Editor’s Note: You may have watched one of the recently aired tributes to Randy Pausch, the Carnegie Mellon professor who gave his famous “Last Lecture” before passing away on July 25^th, 2008. His final inspirational months on earth grabbed the attention of many, and his passing highlighted this simple fact: our culture doesn’t offer much guidance on how to die well. Sometimes even our churches don't know how to handle this topic.

In her new book, Glimpses of Heaven: True Stories of Hope & Peace at the End of Life’s Journey, former hospice nurse Trudy Harris shares her encounters with the many brave yet ordinary “Randy Pausch’s” that she’s cared for over the past 32 years. Harris collected these stories from those nearing the end of life's journey to offer comfort to those who have experienced loss as well as to share  profound insights on the spiritual realm that only those getting ready to pass into heaven can offer. Having observed God's tender care for those He calls home firsthand, she notes, “Those who have allowed themselves the luxury of being present with patients as they are dying come away realizing in a whole new way that there is only one Divine Physician, and it is He alone who sets the timetables of our lives.” Mary Anne’s story is reprinted here.

Mary Anne, a wealthy investment broker, married with no children, came to my door one day. She lived in a world of social activity, wealth, and country clubs, a world that was very different from mine. “I understand your father died recently,” she stated as she pushed past me and seated herself in my family room early one morning. “I didn’t know what to bring you,” she said, handing me a brass door knocker wrapped in tissue paper. “So I got you this.” Nothing sat well with me that day in regard to Mary Anne. I didn’t understand the gift at all and did not want to, and only later did I realize the symbolism involved with the “knock at the door.”

I have to confess: I didn’t like Mary Anne very much. She was a strong, outspoken businesswoman, and I was sure we had nothing in common. Why was she here?

“I’d like to hear about your dad’s death,” she said. “How it was, what he said, how he died. I want to know all about it.”

Her prodding questions made me both uncomfortable and angry. In spite of my feelings, I somehow knew deep inside myself that this was the beginning of something that I did not yet understand, something I was to experience and from which I was to learn. What the lesson was to be, I had no idea. It seemed that God’s plan for Mary Anne and for the things to come was just unfolding. Needless to say, over a period of time and out of my control, we became very good friends. God taught each of us what He wanted us to know through the other.