Israel — The Holy Land
I made the decision to leave my cell phone at home. It was just that a “phone,” and I didn’t want to pay the extra money required during those days, to have my service switch for international. It’s so much easier and cheaper no. During my recent trip to China, I didn’t have to pay anything for texting services, and very little to make a call. But those days, May 2005, the costs was higher, and the introduction of the smart phone was still over two years away. And I knew if there was an emergency, there would be others on the trip with their phones.
So when we landed at the Laguardia Airport in New York, I made a pay phone call to my mom’s hospital room. I had not told her of my plans to go to Israel with my church. I didn’t want her to worry. I knew she would if she found out. The perception among most of my friends who knew was the same then as it is now — that Israel was a place to learn about, but not to visit. Most of the people I spoke to about my trip thought the same thing; that it wasn’t safe, and didn’t understand why I would consider going. I even waited until the weekend before I left to tell my siblings; just so they’d know where to find me if needed.
One of my sisters picked up the phone. I told her I wanted to talk to mom one last time before boarding the plane. But mom was asleep. I should have asked her to wake her. But I was more concerned with mom getting her rest. I had already made plans to return to South Carolina for the Memorial Day weekend, which was just a week after I was set to return from my trip. I figured I’d let mom know then where I’d been; share some pictures, and explain all the reasons why I didn’t tell her in advance. I thought I had it all worked out. But that’s not the way it happened.
The first call came four days later, in the middle of the night in our hotel room; 12 hours ahead of the eastern time zone. I could never have prepared for that phone call. It wasn’t one, but two of my sisters; a three-way call to me, out of the country, and the one who lived out of state. The one in SC was in the hospital room. My mom had taken a turn for the worst earlier that day. She was in ICU. I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing next. “She’s not going to make it.”
I was in a calm shock. I didn’t break down. But I could hardly believe what I’d heard. Mom had a DNR, so I knew there was no way to get out of Israel and back to the states, and to the hospital on time. I knew my mom couldn’t talk to me, but I wanted to talk to her. My sister placed the phone to her ear, and I talked. I told her all of the things you would expect a daughter to say when she knows this would be her only chance to say her goodbyes to her mother.
I couldn’t go back to sleep that night. We would be heading to Jerusalem the next morning, and I needed to figure out if I should call the travel agent and try to get a flight out. But that alone wasn’t what kept me awake. The questions started. The beating up commenced.
Why was I in Israel?
Why didn’t I cancel my trip, knowing my mom had gone from being admitted in February, to still being there in May. Certainly I should have known she wouldn’t be getting any better after over two months in there. Why was I more worried about the costs of the trip and my own desire to go, than I was about my mom and what was happening with her? How could I be so selfish?
I suppose the incredibly difficult, painful, emotional, and mentally draining impact of grief started for me that night, two days before the second phone call. She was gone.
And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Luke 19:41-42
