Saturday, November 27, 2010

a day in the life (6)

I'm supposed to be sleeping but I can't stop thinking about this unfinished post. It's like going to work with one sock on and one sock off. It can't be done--at least with peace of mind. So in order to sleep I'm spilling this out. Shhh...don't tell my family I'm out of bed. ~Kara

The view out the window was cheery. The grim skyline made the outlines of the churches, highrises, and colored houses all the more bold. I could see remnants of ArtPrize on a few walls--colorful displays of freedom, talent, life. The 131-South bound highway was outlined with streetlights, like a string of white Christmas lights strewn through the city. Old houses stood proudly with white trim lining their deep blue, fire red, and sunny yellow sides. Smoke billowed from factories and chimneys. Cars and people buzzed about on streets, in cafes, filling parking ramps. So much life.

The beeping machines dragged my attention back inside to the ICU. Calvin was still on the bed. His face was puffy, eyes were closed, and a mask was over his mouth. His hair billowed up above his head making him look all the more adorable. Outside the glass doors doctors and nurses swarmed busily--mingling comfortably with monitors, charts, machines, carts, medicine and the telephones. My mind went to another place. A place hit by tragedy this past week.

I had been scanning the headlines on the news page and it jumped out at me: STAMPEDE IN CAMBODIA LEAVES HUNDREDS DEAD. I anxiously checked my Cambodian friends on facebook and found heartbreak, confusion, and sorrow over the many deaths of family members and fellow Cambodians. Darryl and I were compelled to look at every picture and watch every news video. Once you've poured your life into something you always leave a part of yourself there.

I thought about the Cambodian families mourning the lost. Over 400 dead and hundreds more injured. I thought about the families who were still in the struggle of life and death with the injured family member. I wondered what their view was. I wondered if they had a window. I wondered if they had a bed to lay the sick one on. I wondered if there was a doctor who'd be willing to help them even if they had no money. I felt the desperation they'd feel when they were told they needed more money or when they were told there was nothing that could be done.

And all I could see when I turned around and looked at my son was MERCY. An undeserved mercy to be here amidst the beeping machines and first-rate medical care. An undeserved mercy to have family by our side caring and helping in every way. An undeserved mercy to have a church family and pastors who pray continually. An undeserved mercy to be surrounded by compassionate and competent doctors and nurses. An undeserved mercy to have the medical bills covered. An undeserved mercy to have four precious children to love. An undeserved mercy to share that love with Darryl.

I looked out the window again. The sky was growing darker and the lights growing brighter. And all I could see was mercy, mercy, mercy.

1 comment:

Kate said...

I thought of you and those you know & love when I saw that headline. I'm very thankful for the mercy God has shown to you guys in the past couple weeks, especially.