The Confession

Her hand was cold. So cold. She shouldn't still be alive, yet here she was, clinging to life by such a thin thread.

As her breath rattled in and out so slowly, so painfully, I bowed my head and prayed.

Oh, Father... why haven't you ended her suffering yet? You know, by earthly standards, that the cancer should have ended her days months ago. Why hasn't she accepted You? Oh, why can't she come home to You?

After a moment or two of sitting in the silence, a word came to mind. It wasn't one I heard. It was more impressed upon me than anything else. The word was listen.

Ok Father, I'm listening.

Nothing. No sounds, no more whispers, not even a movement in another room.

I wanted to cry, but I had no tears left. I wanted to scream, but I hadn't the strength. I had come home from college and stayed with her almost every day since she had outlived the doctor's timeline for her, and much of the time before then, trying to convince her of God's love for her.

I had watched my grandmother transform before my very eyes over the last five years from the lovely, well-figured old woman she once was to the frail, stick of a thing that laid before me then. So had the others. We had all spent as much time with her as we could, thinking it would be the last chance we got.

Today, though, I was alone. The caregiver had been ordered away by the insurance weeks ago. I was wearied by the time and effort that went into my grandmother. But I was grateful. Especially on days like this, when it was just her and me. I knew that in the years to come I would wish that I had gotten yet more time to spend with her. Especially if she died unsaved. I was the only Christian in my family then, and I had tried to use the time she and I had left wisely.

She slept most of the days away. I didn't blame her. Sleeping through the pain likely made things that much easier. But it was the moments where she was awake and lucid that I cherished the most.

I lifted my head saw that she had been awake, staring at me.

When our eyes met, she offered a tired smile.

"How long... have you... been sitting there... Dear?" It was a struggle for her to get enough air with which to speak.

"That doesn't matter, Grandma, I enjoy sitting here with you. Shh. Relax."

I tucked a lock of her ever-thinning hair behind one ear.

"Relax? Honey... that's all... I've been doing... for the last... five years." Her face turned very serious. "Amy... are we alone?"

"Yes, Grandma, we're alone."

"Good... because I have to... tell you something." I would have told her that it could wait. That she should rest longer first. But the look in her eyes silenced me. This was something she wanted me to know.

"I've... done something... something terrible... awful. I've kept... the secret... all of these years and I... need to tell... somebody. You are... the only one... that I trust." She tried to lean forward, but failed, so I gently laid her back down, and she continued.

"Many years ago... your grandfather... got me pregnant. He was... out of town... working... when his son... was stillborn." I leaned in so she wouldn't have to talk so loud. I could see her getting weaker and weaker by the minute.

"I didn't... know what to do. I was... so scared... and sad. I didn't want... it to be known. Times was... different back then. Anyway... the next day... I got a... telegram saying... your grandfather... was offered a... promotion and... he took it... and wanted me to... join him... with the baby... up north... to live. I sat out on the... front porch... with my telegram... crying, when I saw... the couple across the street... bringing home their new... baby girl. And I was angry. Those people... were not fit... to have a child. They were both... violent alcoholics... and I just couldn't understand... why a good girl... like me... had a stillborn child... when trash like that... their baby was perfectly fine... only surviving to be mistreated. So... that night... I killed them. I killed them and I... took their little girl... packed up... and brought her to your grandfather... and introduced her... to all.. as his'n. The police never even considered me... because I had already settled in... up north when they... discovered the bodies. Now... I know what I done ain't right... and I truly... am sorry. But that baby... was my daughter. I deserved her... they didn't. And it's because of... what I done... that I could never make that decision... you're always telling... me about. The one about... God. I know you say... that God can forgive anything... but I don't think... He could forgive this. Please, Amy Dear... don't hate me."

I was shocked. I didn't hardly believe what I was hearing. My grandmother... a murderer and kidnapper?

"Ohhh, Grandma." I moaned. I had thought that I had no tears left, but that theory was in great danger of being disproved right about then.

I leaned down and hugged her gently. After a few moments I felt the inexplicable urge to forgive her. It was not my place to do so, seeing as I was not the person wronged, but I felt that in order for her to believe God could forgive her, she needed to hear it from a person first. And since I was the only person around...

"Grandma? Look at me." I lifted my head so she could do as I asked.

"I love you, and I always will. And I forgive you." The expression on her face had been one of miserable guilt, but as I said that, her countenance brightened, and she even smiled.

"Thank you." She whispered. I knew I was running out of time.

"But it's not my forgiveness you need to ask for." And with that, I told her once more what I had been telling her for twelve years.

"I know you must think that God is angry with you because of your sin, because of what you've done. But that's not true. God is in love with you, despite your sin. He does hate the sin, but He loves the sinner so much that He sent His only Son, Jesus Christ to die for us all. We all sin, and because of sin, we cannot be in God's presence because He is a holy God. Set apart. Righteous. Jesus's death on the cross bridged that gap. No matter what you've done, no matter who you were, God loves you, and He is waiting for you to come to Him. Jesus Christ's death covered all of our sins and is an open invitation. All you have to do is confess to Him what you've done. He knows already, because He is all-knowing, but He wants you to speak to Him directly. He knows everything about you, every thought that's ever entered your mind. And He still wants you to spend eternity with Him. Just believe that He loves you, believe He exists, believe that Jesus's death absolved you, and accept His free gift of forgiveness. That's it. It truly is that simple, Grandma."

She looked as if she finally understood.

"He'll really... forgive me?"

"Yes! He will, Grandma, just ask him, and He will."

She closed her eyes, and her lips began to move but no sound came out, and I realized she wasn't talking to me. She was talking to Him. I smiled, thanked God, and waited for her to finish.

"There... I've done it." She smiled. It was the biggest, most joyful smile that I had ever seen her give. I returned it with one of my own, and as a ray of light came through the window to shine on her, she breathed her last.

I leaned forward, closed her eyes and just sat there for a few minutes, praying. I talked to Him about how this revelation made me feel. I asked Him what to do.

After a little while, I felt the impression that I should keep this to myself. There was no point in bringing it up, opening old wounds, and causing hurt. This was a secret that could die with me. God knew. And that was enough.

I pulled out my phone and called my mom to give her the news.

As it rang, I realized that even though she wasn't my mother's mother, my mother was her daughter, just as surely as I was her granddaughter, and there was no arguing that fact. Despite her flaws and issues, she still loved us more than life. And I will always love her for that.