by Mary Marelli
How do I know Jesus is real? As a Christian, I believe, but have been challenged by that age-old question. My answer is simple. Jesus has always been there for me, even before I was saved and didn’t realize it. He was there, never more so than when we lost my mother to liver failure at the age of 63, a bleak time for myself and my family. Mom needed a transplant, yet we couldn’t bring ourselves to pray for someone to die, so she could live. We put the decision in God’s hands.
My father and I went to the hospital every day. It didn’t matter that I had to drive an hour to pick up Dad and another hour’s drive to the hospital. We visited. The week Mom slipped into a coma, we still visited. When my brother and sister went to see her that weekend, there was no change in Mom’s condition. However, on Monday, Dad and I found her bright and alert. She spoke with us, and then she sent Dad away so I could have some quiet time with her. I’ll never forget what she said.
“Maggie, I had a visitor Saturday night.” A visitor? I knew my brother and sister were there, but Mom shook her head. “This was the middle of the night,” she said.
“Who, Mom?” I asked again.
Mom grew quiet. She smiled and held my hand. “Jesus.”
My breath caught. I felt as if my heart stopped beating, but I knew what she spoke was true.
“Jesus came and sat alongside me. I told him I wanted to go home.”
Where some might question such an occurrence, I never thought to do so. I believe Mom saw Jesus that night. Upon thinking more, I realized He visited me, also. Mom’s sickness took a toll on the entire family. Sleep was impossible. I often woke and sat at the table in the dark. Sometimes I prayed. Sometimes I forgot how to pray.
There didn’t seem to be an easy answer. But that Saturday night, I woke around three a.m., as I often did. Only instead of getting out of bed and sitting at the table, a comforting warmth spread over me. More like through me, you know? The feeling was all-encompassing, something I couldn’t deny if I wanted.
A soft voice whispered to my soul. “Everything is going to be OK.” That’s all. Those simple words by an unseen, but deeply felt presence, brought such a tranquil peace to my body and soul, I nodded and went back to sleep.
It was only after my visit with Mom, did I come to the realization that both of us, indeed, had a special visit from Jesus. He sat with my mother on her last lucid day on this earth. The last day she spoke to any of us. She passed later that week, and I knew she had gone home.
Jesus told her so.
Check out Mary’s debut novel, Moon Over Montana.
