Sunday, August 23, 2009

Can you see the smoke coming out of my ears yet?

Death is a part of life, so in that sense I guess it's natural. But as with most things since the fall, it's not quite the way perhaps it was originally made to be. When it comes down to it, sin is rooted in doubt- doubt that we are getting the best, that God is "holding out" on us. Doubt that He know what's best for us. I find myself at yet another time of spiritual anguish, the death of Hubert seeming imminent, acutely feeling the separation from Him. If I knew he was with us always, with Hubert, would this be so hard? If I didn't doubt for one second that God's plan is far more encompassing and loving than mine, would I struggle this much? I suspect I wouldn't. I suspect it's my doubt that causes the separation, not God himself.

I wandered into the dinning room a little lost at about two this morning. I'm sure it was no coincidence that some close friends happened to be finishing tea at that strange hour. Sitting down, I tried to relate how great it was to talk with Peleke on the phone tonight- how we both laughed and my cheeks hurt from smiling. Instead, tears for Hubert started leaking out. Grief is funny that way. I think sometimes as nurses we "prophylactically grieve" so as to be ready to help the families start their own process. It's simply the acknowledgement of loss of something or somebody important. And each time a patient dies, you have to decide what exactly that loss is to you- maybe not much or maybe a lot. I didn't expect Hannah's response to the situation: "sin makes me angry and sad." And that's just it, isn't it? The death of a child is just one more difficulty of life, one we have the peculiar honor to experience, compounded by our own doubts and fears of who God really is. It's not meant to be this way- but that's on us.

No, Hubert hasn't died that I know of. Both from what I've seen of him and in practice, I strongly suspect he will though. If he does survive, it will be only by the grace of God. And if he doesn't? Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

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