For the life of me, her words elude me.
Did she say, “It won’t be long.”
Or was it more like, “It will be soon.”
What did she say? This is too important to forget. That, and what did she mean anyway? She, being a Hospice nurse. They came to the house on Monday.
I was Hospice trained while living in South Dakota. I’ve always had a tender heart for the hurting and thought this was an avenue to be of help. Didn’t know it would be my own husband when my training would be most utilized.
Anyway, the question was put out there on how much time they thought he had left, like we were calculating something as simple as a mortgage rate.
That is when she made reference to his time being short.
Really, it is not as if it is any surprise. We know it is not long.
“Personally I want it over.” These words exit Bill’s mouth. I cannot blame him. Pain can make life unbearable. I wonder if it is death he desires, or an end to his pain.
Even those who are suicidal, do they really desire death, or is it more of a longing to depart from living in turmoil, which causes one to want to prematurely end oneself?
I woke up the other morning thinking of King Hezekiah. He was given a short time to get his affairs in order because he was given a death sentence.
His fate was forecasted, and he earnestly begged for his fatality to be at a future date.
And God gave him an additional 15 years to his life.
Now, there is speculation on whether this was a good thing in the end, as this king did not end on a good note. His legacy was tarnished by pride along with offspring that happened to be one of the worst in Israel’s history of kingship.
So, I asked Bill what he would do if he had another 15 years. He said he wouldn’t want to live like this, referencing the pain of cancer.
I assured him I don’t believe that would be a miraculous healing to live for years upon years in intense pain.
He said he would proclaim Jesus.
We began praying for a miracle. Don’t get me wrong, we have been praying for this all along. But, without any other options on the table, this prayer is desperate.
I think of the desperation of Hezekiah, or even King David, when the course of his son’s life was determined to end soon, David continued to beg God to intervene until the very end.
Unfortunately, David didn’t receive the same answer as Hezekiah.
Hezekiah was yes, David was no.
I think of Jesus, in the garden, on his knees, dripping of anguish, desperate–expressing his desire for the cup to pass from him.
His wasn’t only a matter of life and death, but so much more.
Still, through it all, his heart was one with His Father.
My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.
Afterward, he rose from the garden, and went onto a torturous death.
So we may live forever in His Presence.
The soil is prime for a God-size miracle.
A Gethsemane-type prayer is prayed. Raw. Desperate. Through tear-stained eyes.
Maybe it will be the physical healing we so desire. If not, our hearts are focused on a future when the existence of pain and suffering will be extinct.
In the meantime, I try to be like Jesus, asking, but accepting all the same.