|Kip & his dad, June 2012|
|Kip's dad & Kip's uncle, Nov. 2012|
Am I recalling how we felt compelled to annoint him with oil after hearing a sermon on James 5? And when his pastor was asked, he said, "Yes" and how peace filled the room. How we were all blessed by obeying the Word?
Am I recounting how on a day when all I could think of was how weary I am, that a friend sent a card in the mail with a verse about being weary along with a Starbucks gift-card?
Do I remember how a friend texted me and made herself available to talk on one of those really hard days? I don't remember which one. But it was one of the ones where we thought we were saying goodbye.
Am I remembering how I arrived at home around 1 o'clock in the afternoon with four hungry children, an empty refrigerator, an empty pocket-book, and a friend called wanting to bring us lunch?
Am I remembering how someone brought a pork roast to my house, someone who had recently been in the hospital herself, that she put in our freezer and the very next night I would need food to feed my family and others?
Am I remembering how a child-less couple of 13 years of marriage found out on the day my father-in-law had surgery that they were expecting? She thought something was wrong. Instead, God gave them a baby after thirteen years of waiting. The news delivered to their ears on THE SAME DAY of the original brain surgery. My father-in-law's tenth grandchild would be delivered while he was still in the hospital fighting to breathe.
Am I remembering how a friend planned a birthday dinner when I had no energy to plan a party and she rarely, if ever, plans such things?Am I remembering how friends have said that I could text in the middle of the night? And how comforting it was to have them praying in the middle of the night when the hospital called again with bad news that they intubated him again? And sometimes they had started praying before I had texted?
Am I remembering how a washing machine came to my front door when our washing machine had been broken for over a week? Reminding me that God is seeing all of my needs. He will watch over me and take care of me.
Am I remembering? Not the intubation and the MRSA and the blood clots and the hard decisions but am I remembering His mercy in it all?
Am I remembering the answered prayers of an 11-year-old grand-daughter who wanted to see her grandpa but wasn't allowed in the ICU? She prayed. He was moved to a regular room for two days. She saw him. He told her, "I love you." He moved back to the ICU, one of many set-backs. But she remembers that God answered the cry of her heart, just for her.
|Kip's dad or Papa, and Sophie, Feb. 2013|
How many more details, important God-has-hand in this kind of details, have I forgotten? Let me not forget. Let me recount the many mercies of God. Let me remember how good and kind He is in the midst of sorrow and suffering.
Let me remember. Let me declare all of the ways He has shown His mercy on me. On us.
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