Too close for comfort...

A couple days ago Steve told me about a particular critical-care patient of his that he had spent a lot of time with. She was 32 years old and had just given birth 4 weeks earlier to a healthy baby boy. When I asked him what was wrong with her and replied simply, "She is very sick."

I don't know how many doctors worked on her case, specialists of all kinds, but she continued to decline. Her heart function was decreasing, and she had some kind of infection, but they couldn't locate the source. She was transferred to another hospital with a better critical-care facility, and there she had surgery in which they removed her uterus after it perforated during a D&C. Perhaps there was some tissue left over from the delivery that caused the infection. We still don't know.

I was consumed with her case, asking for every detail (including her name, which Steve with held due to HIPAA compliance). Why was she sick? There still wasn't a good answer. It was frightening. It still is.

I told my mom about her yesterday and we prayed for her healing. I felt the spirit of death had attached itself to her, and we both prayed against it. I went to sleep last night feeling peaceful that she was in God's hands.

Today, I asked about how she was doing and was shocked when Steve told me she died last night. I do not understand why, and of course, I am fighting to maintain peace.

And so I am grieving. Grieving for a woman I have never met but felt a deep connection to. Grieving because she will not be there to raise her son, she will not know the joy of seeing him go to preschool or meet his first soccer coach. And her little boy will never know the woman who gave him life. He will only hear about her as he grows.

I know there is pain in the world, tragedies like this one that have no explanation. Although my life has had it's share of troubles, I have been protected from such pain and for that I am thankful. I know that my God is watching over me, protecting me, planning good things for me, providing for me.

I just wish that I could have done something to help. I felt that my prayers were enough, but I was so moved by compassion that I really wanted to DO something - to go down there and pray with her, anoint her with oil, share the gospel with her, offer her hope... but all I did was pray. I know there is power in prayer, but I will never see in this life any fruit from those heart-felt prayers that were going up for her. I suppose I can continue to pray for her husband and baby boy.

I just don't understand. I just don't get it.

How will I continue? "A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." (Proverbs. 17:22) I will chose to be cheerful, to keep my spirit focused on the goodness of God and not allow this to crush me. I will remember that I am a redeemed daughter of God and that he will watch over me. I will not fear evil - I will remember that even the swallow has found a nest for herself, where she may have her young - a place near the altar of the Most High. (Psalm 84:3) I will put me trust in God and not man. "No good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless." (Psalm 84:11)

Even now, I know God is bigger. I may not understand, but I don't have to. I will release this woman and know that I am not her, that this will not happen to me.