Wrapped in a blanket and on my knees, I ponder the latest events.
* * * *
She was one of many who had been sick. We had been praying and laboring for the improvement of all of them. For a while it seemed like an endless string of one or two getting better and one or two going down each day. There had been over ten to care for each day for a while.
There was something different about her though. We didn't know exactly how many days she had been sick, but in just a few hours she had gone from laughing and playing with her friends to being nearly dead. We were no longer praying for relief from fever or some other discomfort; we were pleading for her life. Doctors hadn't given much hope of her ever being normal again--if she revived. Any moment could be the end.
* * * *
Now I share the chapel floor with others who are pleading for her life. We don't know what the outcome will be, but she's still alive. We're simple human beings capable of little. So we pray. We search the Word.
My eyes skim over the words of stories of that hand whose touch healed thousands, that voice that granted life to a dying body, the One who had spent not just hours but nights pleading for lives.
I contemplate my life in comparison. Here I am spending some of my night in prayer for a life that is on the edge. Yes, we're concerned about her physical life. But what about her salvation? Can we do anything about it now?
And I'm struck--with shame. How many times have I seen a life on the edge, a heart ready to stop trying to pump life through a dying body. How many nights have I spent in prayer for them? How many times have we banded together to plead for their lives?
[9:30 - 3:30]
By taking turns, we pray through the night.
I'm roused from my slumber by a voice. It doesn't take long for me to be sure that it's not good news that we're getting either. She's not only having to be aided for every breath, her heart is giving up. We gather as a group and plead once more. It's hard to say much, so we go back to our places and fall to our knees.
January 24 - 30
Life for us continues somewhat normally while two hours away her life lingers. We wait. We keep praying.
A life gone. A lesson imprinted for ever.
Regardless of the anticipated end--fight for life.