Blip. Blip. Blip.
Bfffff. Tshhhhh. Bffff. Tshhhh.
The hospital machines are rhythmic and steady. Supporting life, where it isn’t. IV drips, holding fluids and medicinal cocktails run down, like a trail of wires.
“Please Father, God Please.”
These were the same words I’d been saying for the last few weeks, and last night, they were even more desperate.
Jen's* hand rested in mine, her eyes stayed closed too, too weak to open. Across the small room, Andrew* was in a chair, sleeping only because of exhaustion and worry.
“Please God, Please.” It felt like the only thing I could say right now.
“Please God,” I rested my head on the bed; “please, I can’t lose another friend.”
I wanted Divine inspiration right then. I wanted some bible verse to magically appear and reassure me. But it didn’t.
I wanted someone to tell me it was okay, that everything was gonna be fine and that shed be back up on her feet in a few weeks...but they didn’t.
Instead the Nurse came in and told me that visiting hours were over, and that I should say my goodbyes.
She stood there quietly as I squeezed Jen's hand and tried not to tremble too much... As Andrew sat there blankly, trying to not break.
I made it out the doors, but I broke down in my car. Sobs that wracked my whole body, and lungs that struggled to find air amidst my tears...tears of anguish. It wasn't sorrow, not even hurt; just, anguish.
I yelled until my voice was hoarse, screaming at God, screaming at myself.
I sat for two hours, unable to move, just crying. When I finished, that quiet numbness that seems to accompany any grief, slipped around me. And I was silent, save the occasional shaking sob that escaped.
“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.”
No God, please.
“let me walk upon the waters...”
Please, I’m not strong enough for this.
“wherever you would call me”
I shook my head, as tears which somehow formed from dry eyes began to flow again.
“take me deeper than my feet could ever wander”
I was biting my lip hard enough to taste iron, and the shaking sobs began again as the song continued to pour over me, just that bit.
“and my faith will be made stronger, in the presence of my Savior.”
Again and again, those words, like salve, flowed. Two hours turned into two more, and still the song continued in my soul. I felt like David’s men in that moment, who “cried until they could cry no more.”
I drove home, and slept through what was left of the night. Knowing that all I could do was rest in the arms of Heavenly Father. This wasn’t in my hands, and I needed to not pick it up.
I awoke with only one word resonating in my heart:
“Lean.” Lean into Abba-God. Lean into His word. Lean into his heart. Lean into the people of God around me. Lean into truth. And most of all, lean into the everlasting arms of the Father and just be held.
The update this morning only said that Jen's condition had worsened overnight, and that it was good I had come to see her.
But beloved, despite these, I will choose to lean into my Maker.
I will choose to stand on the promise that He will never forsake me. I choose to not be bitter.
But I also choose to understand I don’t have to be okay all the time. In fact, the whole reason I must lean into Father is because I can’t be okay this whole time. And that’s okay.
I don’t know what tomorrow is going to tell me, I don’t know what will happen. I can only live today. Today, and not tomorrow.
I can only heal today… and if I don’t heal today, if I break down and am a mess. that’s okay.
I’m not okay, not right now. And that’s okay.
*Names have been changed for privacy purposes.