Friday, September 17, 2010
I cried yesterday. I didn't want to accept it, I wanted the assurance that he would be well, completely well, but I was tired and discouraged. A darling child of God was working in the hospital on his floor, and she took his hands and encouraged us with the words "In everything give thanks." It reached my head.
This morning those same words reached my heart. And I thanked Him. I thanked God that He had a purpose in this situation. I thanked Him that Bruce was still alive and was still able to tell me that he loved me. I thanked Him that he was still able to remember scripture even though he couldn't remember what day it was; I thanked Him that he had no trouble remembering where he was going when he died, even though he couldn't remember whether he was in the St. Micheal's Hospital in Toronto, or Hamilton on the Hill or in some fancy motel.
And I rejected the statement that he would never preach again. He is already preaching. His words, though slurred and slow, and sometimes a little confused, always lift up Jesus. His desire in everything he tries to tell us is to draw his family closer to God. And his thoughts of love are spoken more clearly now than ever before.
Why should I not give thanks? I mourn the stripping away of his pride and independence. I admit that. But his childlike faith and simple love have been unveiled through the stripping. He may never preach again with eloquence and style; he may never again be a judge encouraging young preachers at the ACE International Student Convention like he has done for the last few years, but I sincerely believe that God has not finished with my husband and will use him in ways I cannot yet fathom. And for that I thank Him.
For the next post, see: It is going to get easier as I go
To read the previous post see: Giving Up