Julie Fillinger

Living in light of eternity

What does it mean to live your life in light of eternity? Your perspective here is viewed with a lens that the life to come has more significance than this one. You’re living your life to advance God’s Kingdom but cannot wait to be freed from the troubles of this world to rejoice with Christ in heaven. Our brother Paul put it like this in his letter to the Philippians, “for to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain,” Philippians 1:21 .

Pops was ready

The best example from my personal life of someone who lived in light of eternity was my father in law. We call him Pops. I have never seen anyone more ready to go Home than Pops. He had been dealing with chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL) for 15 years. It was well controlled and he was pretty much able to do what he wanted right up until the end. It was important to him to remain very productive. I would call him and ask what he was doing and his reply was always the same, “I’m working J woman. I’m always working.” He loved to be busy doing the work God had for him to do.

But then he started getting more tired. He just didn’t have the energy to do the things he wanted to do anymore. He was even taking naps. He would still get up before the crack of dawn but would need to lie down a couple of hours later. This was unusual since he spoke out against “logdoggers”. He had made it clear from the time he was diagnosed with CLL, he only wanted to be here on this earth as long as God had productive work for him to do.

The battle

When he contracted COVID, he initially refused to even get tested. I tried to reason with him, that COVID could be fatal for him and Beammie (my mother in love has Multiple Sclerosis). He responded with, “I’m ready to die!” To which I asked, “what about Beammie?” He said, “she’s ready to die too.” I told him that was not up to him. I called Eric and asked him to talk to Pops. He got tested the next day. Beammie tested positive the following day. The day after that, they both were able to receive an infusion.
Beammie recovered well and Pops’s initial response was good too. But then he needed an inhaler, then home oxygen. With each treatment he would start to get better, and then a couple days later would get worse. When he was hospitalized, I poked him in the chest and told him he had to fight this. He sighed deeply and said okay, but I could see he didn’t have much fight left in him. He eventually needed BiPAP in order to breathe.

At this time, he could only have one visitor. My husband Eric checked on him every day and felt the weight of making decisions and informing the family.
Pops got to the point where he was going to need a ventilator in order to keep his oxygenation at a sustainable level. He told Eric emphatically, “do not put me on a ventilator!” Eric tried to explain to him that this was the next step in the treatment protocol, and it may only be for a couple weeks so his lungs had a chance to heal. Pops remained adamant that he did not want to go on a ventilator. He said, “why would you want to keep me from heaven?”

While he was in the hospital, our urologist, Dr. Braswell, was consulted. An ultrasound showed Pops had numerous tumors in his bladder. It seemed Pops had known something like this was going on for a while.

The day before he died, Dr. Braswell rounded on him and noticed a change in his breathing. He tried to call Eric but couldn’t reach him because he was in surgery. Dr. Braswell was not just our urologist; he is also our friend. So, when he couldn’t reach Eric, he called me, “Julie, Eric needs to go see his father.”
Pops’s struggle to breathe was worsening and the decision was made to call the Palliative Care Team.

God’s appointed time

Everything was happening so quickly for us, but right on schedule in God’s timing. We informed the family that Pops may not live much longer. Eric’s brother Rod had just been here and was able to see and spend some time with his father. Precious moments he now greatly treasures.

Our son Drew and niece Emily only lived a few hours away and were able to come the next morning. Beammie, Eric, and I met them at the hospital. You could have more visitors when you are under the care of the Palliative Care Team.
The five of us were surrounding Pops’s bed, trying to grasp what was happening. Pops said he wasn’t waiting and motioned with his hand to get this show on the road. He was ready, but we were not. It had been decided the Palliative Care Team would come at 2:30 pm to remove the BiPAP. It became obvious he wasn’t going to live much longer and the team made him more comfortable.

We prayed and sang hymns and worshipped God, thanking Him for Pops’s life and asking Him for mercy and peace. After a short time, Pops raised his hands with the little strength he had and peace washed over his countenance. He then breathed his last breath. His time of death was 3:46 pm. He had gone Home.

It didn’t take long for the significance of the time of death to jolt Eric and me in awestruck wonder. Nicholas’s personal record for a 5K was 15:46. That was what he ran his last race before he died. He had broken the school record with that time. We assumed he would have many more opportunities to break it again and again. Only he didn’t. That would be his last. Many of his friends and teammates had tattooed that time on their bodies in memory of him.

Now for us, the time took on a different significance. It was as if God was saying Pops died at His appointed time. He had finished the race and Nicholas was there at the finish line to greet him, “Hey Pops, I’m glad you’re here. I think you’re going to like it. Now let’s go see Jesus. I think He wants to give you a hug, just like He did me.”

At peace with God

We have peace knowing my daddy, Nicholas, and Pops are in the presence of their Lord. It takes courage to continue to live in light of this Truth. But it won’t be too much longer. May we press on and rest in God’s goodness and faithfulness until we go Home or Christ returns, whichever comes first. We are at peace with God.

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