Hope

They sit around the room in silence, the only noise being the steady heaving of his chest. Eyes are glued there, waiting for the moment the breathing stops. It has been tough watching him suffer, knowing the only reprieve from pain will be his death. He has been strong and tried to spare them, yet his private agony, that which no one could take away, could clearly be seen in his eyes. And now, he can no longer keep them open. Instead, his struggle is evident in the labored breaths he takes, each one sounding like his last. His end is near.

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.

But the sadness is mixed with joy. They have had time to say what needed to be said. They have been assured of his destiny. They know he gets to go home. He will soon leave this world with its pain and uncertainty and evil. He will be on to a better place and though their hearts will ache for a while, he will be whole again, basking in the glow of heaven, seeing and finally understanding God. And they are happy.

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."

The waiting is hard, yet thankfulness abounds. This is not all there is. The best is yet to come. Even in the midst of the trial, a gentle hand lifts them up, providing precisely what is needed at this moment. Thank You, Lord, for such mercy.




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