 Jane helping me light Kristin's birthday cake. |  Jane with the lemon tree. |
My mother-in-law died on her half-birthday, January 13.
I don't know if there's any significance to that date, but the ancients believed that a truly great person died on the day of their conception or birth. A half-birthday has to count for something.
Jane was a great mother-in-law and grandmother. One of her grandchildren said she was the real Santa Claus. This Christmas Jane was in the hospital, and the absence of her normal pile of presents for the kids offered strong evidence for that belief.
Jane also helped me to be less critical of people who have made bad life choices. She always saw their humanity first and was quick to offer a subtle, but obvious rebuke when I made a judgmental comment.
The Thursday before she passed, I was able to celebrate communion with her, anoint her with oil (mixed with my tears) and pray for her. I knew in my spirit it was the last time I would see her.
Jane was at peace.
"It's all real." She said. God, Jesus, salvation, eternal life, forgiveness. Jane didn't list what she was referring to, but I knew what she meant.
Jane wanted to stay in this life, but it was evident to me that God was comforting her. Revealing himself to her in ways only reserved for those in intense anguish. The peace of the Holy Spirit was almost tangible. Visible in the hospital room.
As I (attempted) to comfort her, we spontaneously half-sung the lyrics "we'll meet again" from the Johnny Cash song.
I love you, Jane.
Until we see each other again in the Kingdom.
I don't know if there's any significance to that date, but the ancients believed that a truly great person died on the day of their conception or birth. A half-birthday has to count for something.
Jane was a great mother-in-law and grandmother. One of her grandchildren said she was the real Santa Claus. This Christmas Jane was in the hospital, and the absence of her normal pile of presents for the kids offered strong evidence for that belief.
Jane also helped me to be less critical of people who have made bad life choices. She always saw their humanity first and was quick to offer a subtle, but obvious rebuke when I made a judgmental comment.
The Thursday before she passed, I was able to celebrate communion with her, anoint her with oil (mixed with my tears) and pray for her. I knew in my spirit it was the last time I would see her.
Jane was at peace.
"It's all real." She said. God, Jesus, salvation, eternal life, forgiveness. Jane didn't list what she was referring to, but I knew what she meant.
Jane wanted to stay in this life, but it was evident to me that God was comforting her. Revealing himself to her in ways only reserved for those in intense anguish. The peace of the Holy Spirit was almost tangible. Visible in the hospital room.
As I (attempted) to comfort her, we spontaneously half-sung the lyrics "we'll meet again" from the Johnny Cash song.
I love you, Jane.
Until we see each other again in the Kingdom.
My Tribute to Jane During Her Memorial Service on January 21, 2026
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