There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens
My friend is dying.
As much as I want that not to be true, I can’t change it. It’s hard to know how to pray in such a situation. Of course I don’t want him to suffer, but I don’t want his wife to experience his loss either. I mourn what might have been–they are new friends, but they are solid and I love them both so much. I’ve spent much of the day crying because I don’t know what else to do. It’s not that I’m afraid of tears. I’m just sad. I’ve only just begun to hear his voice, to learn from his teaching, and it seems too soon. Too soon, even though I know he had his own miracle of a few more years.
I have another family of friends. The youngest is a boy born November 2011. For most of his life he needed a tracheostomy–a tube inserted in his neck to help him breathe. This meant he had no voice, and he needed around-the-clock care because he could not make a sound if he was in trouble. If he had too much stuff stuck in the tube, he couldn’t breathe. If he choked, no one would know. When he cried it was like watching a silent film.
Last month, he had surgery to remove the trach. Today I saw him, and he is today’s miracle. He laughs, and it is a delightful sound. He makes sounds I’ve never heard before, no doubt the result of all the practicing he did before. Clicks and trills. Gurgles and giggles. He even tries to say my name. He seems to be healthy and thriving, finally.
There is a time for everything–a time to be born, and a time to die. . . a time to weep and a time to laugh. . .a time to mourn and a time to dance. . . a time to be silent and a time to speak.
It’s never been more real to me than today.