I've been visiting my dear friend Mary at the local hospital all week. Last Saturday when I saw her there for the first time, I was shocked at her appearance and her frailty. Through Sunday and Monday we talked about her condition. I asked if she had anything she wanted to say. She gave me a couple of small tasks to do for her funeral. We shed a few tears. Mostly we just held hands and were quiet.
Then, Tuesday morning she was a bit better. Three of her friends (mine too) came from her church, and we had lots of laughs. It was a real party atmosphere. Mary began to improve. Wednesday morning when I arrived, she said she felt like she had a second chance at living, and we celebrated. She walked. She got off the oxygen. She had occupational and physical therapy. Yesterday she went to a nursing home near her home, where her husband and friends can visit much more easily. She will have rehab and, hopefully, return home in a few weeks. It was a real resurrection moment — we both felt it and rejoiced.
I have been thinking since then about the many resurrection moments in a person's life, times when we feel that all hope is gone and we are helpless to change the course of events. And then something happens. A plant we thought was dead sends out new leaves. A lost opportunity presents itself in a new, better form. A relationship we thought was failed is mended and renewed. I am reminded of the psalmist's verse: Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning. Thanks be to God.
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