The waiting room was packed.
Family members filled the chairs, lined the walls, and paced the hall.
And that phone call… the one that changes your life forever -
it brought a silence to the room as it rang.
We waited for the other end of the conversation.
The one we desperately needed to hear, but desperately feared.
And in one small sentence, the oxygen was sucked from the room and only a painful silence remained.
In a single moment, I saw my father-in-law’s face crumple as he took in the news.
I saw his son slide off his hat and reach for him.
Four of her siblings were there; family resemblance made bittersweet by their matching tearstained cheeks.
Far more of their lifetime spent together than apart.
Seeing the profound shock and sudden grief spread through the room, it was easy to recognize the shared love we have for this woman.
But I realized anew why even breathing enough to speak was hard for this man.
While they are so intertwined as to be a unit that can survive surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and all the ugliness and suffering that comes with them… you cannot possibly remove one vine without causing terrible damage to the other.
And this is the way it should be.
Doesn’t make it any easier.
And I hate thinking of these next months in terms of Lasts.
A new year
But really, shouldn’t each day be lived as a Last?
Please don’t stop praying. Please call your mom and tell her you love her. Please hug your kids another fourteen times. Please marvel at your blessings and thank the One who gave them to you.
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit .