Fragility

I received an email yesterday from a dear friend at church. Her children are the same age as mine. Her mother has cancer and is hospitalized, and she is overwhelmed with the burden. It brought me to tears when praying for them -- that was our family, four years ago.

My father was terminally ill, four hours away, and we were overwhelmed. Physically, emotionally, and sometimes spiritually. It's the little things that sometimes send you over the edge - the grocery store trip that didn't happen, the homework that was forgotten, the laundry that needs to be washed. The children's questions that you can't answer. The situation you never thought you'd be in - my dad wasn't yet sixty when he died.

I've thought a lot since that time about how fragile life is. We all live like we're promised forever, like every day will go on just like the day before. We cling to life desperately, trying to wring every happiness we can out of our days. However, God didn't promise us forever here on earth, and I don't think He means for us to be that frantically attached to our life here. Forever is a promise to our souls, and unless we believe in his Son's sacrifice on the cross for our sins, that forever isn't pleasant at all. If we do, however, accept His invitation to believe, confess our sins, and follow Him, then, in His graciousness and mercy, He gives us forever, in heaven, with Him. Perfection for eternity. So why do we still long so much to stay here, where sickness, cruelty and sin rob us of so much joy?

My dad is healed in heaven. He will never again struggle for breath, never cry a tear, never have another panic attack. Do I miss him any less? (Of course not -- I'm in tears just thinking about it). Am I comforted knowing I will see him again someday? Absolutely. But I still hug my boys tighter, cherish my husband and my mom more, and look at life differently because I know, now, that it is short. That I can't control its duration, any more than I can control the weather.

Thinking of my friend, I longed to tell her of the good things God redeemed from that time. Both of my boys have made salvation decisions (because we prayed and talked about heaven so much, I think.) One of my friends selflessly poured her time and energy into our lives, taking care of so much for me and teaching me so much about joyful service. But that's so hard for my friend to think about right now. So I told her, instead, the truth: we're praying for her, as her church family, we're here for her, and I will do anything she will let me do to help her.

Because I know what fragile is. And I know what my Savior would have me do. And I long to be the woman, someday, that he wants me to be.