Today I had planned to blog about two very different shopping experiences from this past weekend. I even had a picture! But then I read e-mails and blogs first. And now posting about something so trivial as a shopping trip seems frivilous.
My brother-in-law is a pastor. Yesterday morning he stepped off the hospital elevator to visit members who had just bore a child, to be greeted by a nurse with "Preacher, how did you know to come now? An angel must have sent you!" They had just told a young couple that their unborn child was no longer living. Through an interpreter, he was able to pray and share with them, and even met with them again last night. It brought back horrible memories from five years ago as a young missionary couple that I worked with (and shared an office with the wife) lost their firstborn with less than four weeks to go before delivery. The heartbreak was horrid; there were no words of comfort that could truly help.
And one of the caregiver support groups I belong to posted an unexpected loss. The founder of our group has a brother who serves in Afghanistan. Their unit was hit by an IED, and a member lost both legs and part of an arm. For two years he has valiantly undergone so much, and was supposed to be discharged from rehab in three weeks. He caught a stomach bug a few days ago, and his fiance was unable to wake him up this morning. She paged the nurses, the doctors came, but he was gone. As the shocked family is reeling from something so unexpected, I'm reminded of how fragile life truly is - a vapor.
Meanwhile a lady from the church I grew up in heard "well done" two days ago. For her, it's a blessing. Her health was bad, her mind was going, and her very full life had left almost all of her family saying "it's time". It's funny how the circumstances around a death determine the level of our grief.
And as circumstances do dictate our lives somewhat, I'm off to get chores done...including the repair of a our chicken pen. Hawks in the day and who knows what at night, but we're losing our flock a few at a time. Looks like the electric fence will be going back on tonight.
My brother-in-law is a pastor. Yesterday morning he stepped off the hospital elevator to visit members who had just bore a child, to be greeted by a nurse with "Preacher, how did you know to come now? An angel must have sent you!" They had just told a young couple that their unborn child was no longer living. Through an interpreter, he was able to pray and share with them, and even met with them again last night. It brought back horrible memories from five years ago as a young missionary couple that I worked with (and shared an office with the wife) lost their firstborn with less than four weeks to go before delivery. The heartbreak was horrid; there were no words of comfort that could truly help.
And one of the caregiver support groups I belong to posted an unexpected loss. The founder of our group has a brother who serves in Afghanistan. Their unit was hit by an IED, and a member lost both legs and part of an arm. For two years he has valiantly undergone so much, and was supposed to be discharged from rehab in three weeks. He caught a stomach bug a few days ago, and his fiance was unable to wake him up this morning. She paged the nurses, the doctors came, but he was gone. As the shocked family is reeling from something so unexpected, I'm reminded of how fragile life truly is - a vapor.
Meanwhile a lady from the church I grew up in heard "well done" two days ago. For her, it's a blessing. Her health was bad, her mind was going, and her very full life had left almost all of her family saying "it's time". It's funny how the circumstances around a death determine the level of our grief.
And as circumstances do dictate our lives somewhat, I'm off to get chores done...including the repair of a our chicken pen. Hawks in the day and who knows what at night, but we're losing our flock a few at a time. Looks like the electric fence will be going back on tonight.
Comments
Sorry for all your sadnesses this week. Love you.