3 months clinging to the Old Rugged Cross

Last week at church, I looked at the program and saw that we would be singing The Old Rugged cross. This was one of mom’s favorite church songs. It made her cry EVERYTIME we sang it. It got to the point that if we saw it on the program, we would do an inward groan because we hated to see her cry. I think there were some occasions that she went ahead and left the auditorium when they were ready to sing that song! I never understood why it made her cry so much. I certainly do now. It finally got me. As I sat there in church last week, I felt what I could only assume was the same feelings she would get when that song came on. I was just about to lose hold of my emotions when dad leaned over and said “your mother would be bawling at this point.” It made me laugh at the memory and the moment of emotion passed. Mom would always laugh at herself when it came to her losing her own emotions during that song.

Now when I hear that song, I think of her clinging to the cross. A friend of hers gave her a wooden cross when she was diagnosed. She held it quite often. Joseph (my second brother) told us that early on he walked into her room one afternoon and she was asleep on the bed gripping that cross. Almost clinging to it. Clinging to His healing power. Clinging to her faith. Clinging to hope. During her last few weeks, dad brought that cross from home so that she could hold something in her hand to keep it from curling up. It was perfect. It was what she would have wanted if she could have requested something. So she clung to that cross, with her Bible underneath as well. And we ALL found ourselves clinging to Him. These past three months, I have found myself reaching for Him more than ever. I have questioned my faith. I have questioned Him. I have questioned His will. And he answers me in His own way and I am reassured. So I will cling to the cross just as mom did, for “that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
has a wondrous attraction for me”

Mom took her last breath clinging to that old rugged cross and she certainly exchanged it for her crown.    

“So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
and exchange it some day for a crown.”


About Sherry

I'm not sure about me yet. I lost my mom, my best friend, my confidant to brain cancer. I see the good it has brought in others, I'm just not sure yet how it has changed me for the better. Her kindness and finding joy in sadness has been passed to us, but this is a pain I have never felt. I know she would not want us sitting around crying, she would want us enjoying each other and laughing and continue to grow closer. She loved when we all got together and just laughed and that's what we have been doing. But honestly, I'm really scared of life without her. I relied on her for everything. Most of my time was spent with her, so I'm just not sure about me. I just take it day by day and try to find the beauty of gray.
This entry was posted in The Beauty of Gray and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to 3 months clinging to the Old Rugged Cross

  1. Sherry says:

    Couldn’t say it any better, Sherry – there’s not any part of any day I don’t think about all of them now being together there. GOD’s love for us is broad enough to take all of our hurts, questions, pleas, and only He can comfort and ease the pain – He’s the only constant in this life. So many things have happened in the past three months and she’s not here to listen to my venting! Not sure the missing ever totally goes away. I am so very thankful to have been a part of the same family. Love all of you – Aunt Sherry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s