I just don’t know what to do for her… what book does she need right now? I know which book she might need “after”… but what do I give her now, while she is waiting on the threshold for mortality to take away that one person who has not only nurtured her but sustained her? She’s wondering how she will survive… and secretly even wondering if it is possible to live on this planet without the one person who gave her life. People may do this every day; there’s no doubt we survive such things. But the prospect seems daunting before you walk through that door. With a sustained waiting period like this, you have time to ponder this reality, and it is a frightening prospect.
So while I’m wondering what I can do for her, and not coming up with a single answer, the speaker asked us to join hands in a circle and repeat the Aaronic blessing, from the Book of Numbers in the Bible (Numbers 6:24–26). How timely… was this? The Lord Bless you and keep you…
When her hand was in mine, I squeezed hers, and she squeezed mine back. When I looked up to say the words to her face, I saw how crushed she was. Worn, tired, was she getting any sleep at all? What scenarios are running through her mind right now? What worry is she playing over and over in her mind? And yet, there was a sweetness there. A countenance on her face that was calm, above everything else I saw. Crushed, but sustained. Not just sustained, but lifted up by hands, wings, and peace that we couldn’t even see.
There was certainly something invisible sustaining her… and it made my eyes fill with tears for compassion for her… but at the same time, a strange joy. For in her grief, and fear and uncertainty, I saw someone else in charge… bigger than us, holding her up, carefully molding and carving her heart into something new. It was that mysterious peace that passes all understanding made visible. So, that is how she ended up giving me a gift.