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Sunday, August 31, 2003

Lessons From Life

Your room’s not ready yet

TODAY I was able to release Myrtle K. from the hospital to go back to the nursing home. For about eight or nine years now she has had declining health and mental status. Sweet as ever, but just not always home. This was an absolute gift from God.

When she came in to the hospital 7 days ago, this 91-year-old lady had pneumonia and worsening confusion. The next day she had a TIA (mini stroke), and I told the family that it would be a miracle if she survived. She didn’t regain consciousness for 48 hours. Then just like turning the lights back on, she began to come around and the antibiotics began to work better. Her health began to improve. Each day she got better and better. Her lungs cleared, and she became the most alert I have ever seen her by this morning when I finally let her go back to the nursing home.

Back when I first met Myrtle and she was perfectly clear, she would see me scurry about in the office and the hospital, and tell me, "I don’t know how you stay up, I’m praying for you."

In the elderly, it is frequently pneumonia that finally takes their lives, because the worn bodies just don’t have what it takes to fight off infection any more. Well, I don’t think Myrtle could fight it off, but God could!

 


Several years ago, as I sat at the nursing station one evening, some good friends were there visiting an elderly relative and they related an incident that had just happened involving their young daughter, JJ. It seems she had been in a position to be left in the room with her grandmother and the lady was just plain tired. She said, "I just want to die. I want to go home to be with Jesus, why can’t I just die?" JJ looked up at her and said, "Granny... God’s painting your room, and it’s just not ready yet."

How often I think of JJ’s words when I see the miracles God performs in the hospital. Simple, uncomplicated, and ‘right on’. Thanks JJ, you have given me insight. And Myrtle ... I wonder what colour your room’s going to be?

(Contributed by Bill McSmith)

Portrait of a man

This is a poem that my sister wrote shortly before her death. She was 16 years old.

I am but a creature of the earth, one among many;

I live to be loved and I give love in return.

I am understood; and I am misunderstood;

I am praised and I am scorned.

I long to cry out from within myself but none will hear,

For my voice is sealed within me.

Day after day I toil;

I dream of the place where work is no more.

There are sad times and happy ones, too;

There are days when everything goes wrong, But life must go on.

My life is but short and my death oh so near,

And yet I wonder

why I am here...

(Contributed by Sharmayne Symons)

(Four months after this poem was submitted, Sharmayne died in an auto accident)

Recognition

As the Master grew old and infirm, the disciples begged him not to die. Said the Master, "If I did not go, how would you ever see?"

"What is it we fail to see when you are with us?" they asked.

But the Master would not say.

When the moment of his death was near, they said, "What is it we will see when you are gone?"

With a twinkle in his eye, the Master said, "All I did was sit on the riverbank handing out river water. After I’m gone, I trust you will notice the river."

(Contributed by Anthony de Mello) (Culled from the Net)

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