It is common knowledge at our house that I am not a candidate for the medical field. When one of our kids gets hurt, my brain shifts to neutral. God knows this, and has conveniently spared our family from broken bones, severed limbs and gushing arteries. Only polite emergencies for us.... John's malaria which exposed no blood, Chara's
appendectomy which kept all incisions behind closed doors, autism which includes no gore. Ben did have a febrile seizure but God was smart and had it strike when I was at the airport, so his sixteen year old sister went in the ambulance with him. Hosanna did split her lip but all it required was a drop of glue.
My appreciation for nurses and doctors is therefore paramount. How they can both think and mop up flesh astonishes me.
But
when couples come to me about the pain in their marriage, I can be present. One time a woman was telling me how close she was to walking away, as if the keys were already in her pocket. Calmly I listened, and cared. Over the next few years I kept checking in, with an email, an invitation to lunch, sometimes asking if she wanted to join a marriage group. I sent her articles, and quotes. Usually she did not respond. But once in a blue moon she did.
Not many people knew
how close to the edge her marriage was, and she reminded me to act as if nothing was wrong with our mutual friends. I assured her that I held her words in tight confidence. But I talked to God about it. I prayed.
Recently they celebrated an anniversary with a larger than usual amount of fanfare. Her smile looked real. Their children are thriving and when we see each other it feels warm.
I believe the breach has healed. And I am cheering
all by myself.
