this is the day

welcome to the world of pain and joy that walking through this life provides: no guarantees, lots of suggestions, a few unshakeable truths.
today, a loved one stands at death's door, a man who has been to the hospital so many times he should have frequent flyer miles. a hemophiliac who has given his life to Jesus Christ, he is a signal example of patience in suffering, of hope in the midst of the chaos of his body's nonfunction. dozens of people have visited his hospital bed, have listened to his story, have been quietly amazed by the light of Christ that shines from him.
He's a professional hospital visitant--primarily in the role of patient. It's one thing for a passing priest or pastor to say kind words as they enter and quickly exit a hospital. it's quite another for a patient lying in a bed of pain and uncertainty to be the one to offer the words of comfort and peace.
john, we salute the mighty work God is doing through you. He does all things well, however much we do or do not feel good about the result.
this day is also the four-month anniversary of the passing of a lovely young woman who was my husband's daughter. like john, she had beat a number of boldily malfunctions but died of a bacterial infection. (perhaps euthanasia will never become an issue in this country if bacterial infections run so rampant in hospital settings that, well, going to the hospital will simply be the euphemism for the long good-bye!)
but because Jesus lives, because life is small and eternity enormous, there is rest even for the funerally-minded and the grieving. life is, as a wise man once said, like the title page of the book. Eternity is the rest of the book. we're only on the title page here, waiting for the page to be turned to get to the REAL story!