O Death, Where Is Your Victory?

Of all the expectations I had for what I might be doing as a missionary in Peru, helping people as they die certainly wasn't one of them. I imagined teaching children, giving talks, leading people through the Bible, visiting the elderly, praying for healing, and playing music. Yes, all of these things. But ministry to the dying? Not on my radar.

The first time the Lord led me to someone who was dying was on a Thursday morning in July. As I was headed out to do home visits, I said a simple prayer asking the Holy Spirit to guide my feet and lead me to where I should go. I walked toward the home of Brudiht, a frail elderly woman whom I had visited a few weeks before. When I knocked at the door, Brudiht's cousin and caregiver Palmir met me with with her customary welcome, but was sad to tell me that Brudiht was doing poorly. I entered the simple bedroom and saw lying there unaware the tiny lady who two weeks before was sitting up and engaging in as much conversation as a woman with dementia could. Her breathing was labored, and her color signaled—as far as I could surmise—that death was not far off.

After chatting a bit with Palmir, I asked if we could pray. After some spontaneous words, we said the Our Father, then asked for Mary's intercession "now and at the hour of death." I wasn't sure how soon that hour would come, but it couldn't be long. After giving sweet Brudiht a kiss and marking her forehead with the sign of the cross, I exchanged some words with Palmir and let her know that I would check in again soon.

Brudiht's home

The following morning I received the news that Brudiht had passed in the early hours of the morning. I was grateful and humbled that the Spirit led me to her home the day before so that she could be prayed with before going to meet her Creator. (Thankfully she had received the Anointing of the Sick some weeks earlier.)

It was around this time that my teammate Rachel and I began visiting Ladislao and Cila. We first met Cila—the cutest, sweetest 60-something Peruvian you ever did see—back in April or May. We were chatting with some women in a nearby town, and she was selling oranges. After we bought a bag of fruit from her, she described where she lived and invited us to visit her one day.

A couple of weeks later, we followed the directions Cila had given and found her brick house with a large enclosed garden. The timing of our visit was providential, as her husband—who was in the city of Lima receiving treatment for eye cancer—was scheduled to have surgery the following day. After visiting for a while, we were able to read a Scripture passage with Cila and pray for her husband's successful operation. She was comforted by the prayers.

My teammate Rachel (left) and I visiting Cila (center) with Ali and Brittney, two of our Summer School of Missionary Evangelization participants

The next time we visited Cila we learned that the doctors decided not to perform surgery or give further treatment and instead sent Ladislao home. It seemed unbelievable that the prognosis was so poor. He looked to me as healthy as any man in his 70s. Only his dark sunglasses and the patch underneath indicated that there was anything wrong. Each time we visited he would make himself presentable with an oxford shirt tucked neatly into his pants and come out of his room so that we could pray with him.

We began to visit Ladislao and Cila every Friday afternoon. We would chat, laugh, pray, and drink coconuts from the tree in their garden. We appreciated their friendship as much as they appreciated our visits and prayers. I still couldn't believe that I was in the presence of a dying man. However, as the weeks went on Ladislao's condition got worse, and his pain increased. I wasn't sure how to do it tactfully, but I privately asked Cila if they would want the priest to come for the Sacrament of Anointing. They were indeed happy for that to happen. Padre Francisco was able to make time in his busy schedule the following day to anoint Ladislao and hear his confession.

Cila and Ladislao would always offer us coconuts from their tree. Cutting the cocos open is a process, but Cila is a boss with the machete!

One day Cila called me and asked me if Ladislao could receive Holy Communion. Knowing that the couple was only married civilly and not in the Church, I had to inform her of the rule which the priests had made clear to us. So she asked me if they could get married. I asked her in turn if Ladislao was willing, as I knew that he was the one who had resisted years earlier. "Viejito," I heard her say on the other end, using a term of endearment which literally means "old man." "Would you like to get married?" He responded affirmatively, and so I visited the parish secretary to begin the process.

Ladislao's health continued to decline. During our visit on the first Friday of September, we found that he was spending most of the day in bed and was hardly sleeping at night. Cila was downtrodden and exhausted. Rachel and I took some extra time to pray with them that day. I led us in the Divine Mercy Chaplet, then felt inspired to give Ladislao my rosary. With Cila’s help he slipped it over his head to hold it close. It was hard saying goodbye that day, as our team was getting ready to leave for a week-long trip. We weren't sure how much longer he would hold on.

Sadly, Ladislao reached the point where he was unable to give consent for marriage. But while we were gone, we were able to call on fellow missionaries Miguel and Angela to help provide for Ladislao's final needs. They accompanied Padre Rafael to the home where he gave Ladislao the Anointing of the Sick one last time and made the decision to give him Jesus in the Holy Eucharist. Ladislao was no longer able to take food, but he managed to swallow a small piece of the host with some water.

A few days later he passed into eternity. We had planned to visit him when we got back from our trip, but we arrived at his house ten minutes after he had died. It was difficult not having been there to pray with him one last time, but we knew that he had been covered by grace through the Sacraments. He had reconciled with the Lord and received the Eucharist, as he had desired. We prayed with his grieving family around the lifeless body, trusting that his soul was still very much alive.

Cila later commented on how we came into their lives at just the right time. She told us that her husband believed that we were sent to them by God. What a beautiful and amazing reality—that by His grace we said yes, that He sent us to the jungle of Peru and to the house of a sweet couple in their time of need, and that we were able to accompany this man on his journey to eternity, helping him to die in grace. These moments are sacred, and we are mysteriously called into them. We are given participation in the amazing work of God, preparing souls to meet Him so that they may live forever. I am humbled by this privilege and amazed by God's continual victories.