When Hard Things Heal

My sister is desperately ill in the hospital.  She had an appendectomy and then complication after complication–3 surgeries in 2 weeks.  Days crawl, filled with suffering.

She is my sister because our parents married each other.  In the beginning, there were 6 of us:  some yours, some mine, none ours.  We struggled and we didn’t always like each other.  There was ugliness.

Then one of us gave up on life and pulled a trigger.  Now there are 5 of us.  The way I see it, the 5 of us need to stick together.  We’re all we’ve got.

So we do, and I’m proud of us.  I love my sister.  I hurt because she’s hurting.  We’re family.

But the rule is to give thanks in everything, and Lord help me, I don’t want to break the rules.  More specifically, I don’t want to break the heart of my First Love.  So, I practice.  And I work hard to see the good.  Even in this, what do I have to be thankful for?

Well, for starters, #493 – #498 on the list:

• Shiny new Podunk hospitals, with people cleaning and polishing in every corner.
• Caring doctors who are both staff and friends.
• Nurses.  (Period.)
• Hope.
• That God restores the years the locusts have eaten.
• Family, however blended.

And these beautiful words, for when life hurts, and you don’t understand, and it goes on and on, and you’ve gone to a terrifying place:

Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed,  for the Lord your God is with you, wherever you go.

(Joshua 1:9, NKJV)

Even in Podunk hospitals.  Hang in there, Sister.