mercy

One building. So many stories. Sitting in the family lounge with my mom I hear a lullaby play softly in the hall. The  lady sitting across the room from us talking about her dying mother in room 216 while a new life breaths it's first breath a few floors above us. Such sorrow and such amazement so close together.

We chat for a while. The poor lady talks about how she likes to cook, the day she lost her 21 year old son, her brother's health issues, the process of watching her mom pass on and how she wonders why life is so full of sorrow. She tells us how she is so confused about why we are even alive. "Couldn't we all just be spirits floating about without bodies that get sick and hurt and die?" We tell her about the amazingness of heaven- an eternity with God and how we need to know Jesus to get there. The suffering of this earth is not to be compared with the glory that lies ahead. But we don't know how to say more...to share the gospel. And so we talk more about life...and tell her that we are so thankful she shared her story with us. And she leaves to go back to room 216.

I still see her face in my mind and kick myself for not saying more.

A little time with Joyce before I leave. She is uncomfortable and sad that the dinner coming for her is not the one she wanted- but clear and liquid instead. She cries. I lean in and stroke her hair..telling her that I love her, that Evie loves her, that we are praying for her. "It's not fair!" No, sweetie...it's not.

Driving home...I think I could put my car on autopilot and it would take me too and from Mercy. I've come and gone but some people live there...at least for a while.

Home again...greeted with a warm embrace and by little girl who cries "Mama!" She dances about with her onesie unsnapped and hanging outside of her flowery pants. Daddy tells me that she looked that way when he picked her up from her nap. And such a nap it was...during which she managed to take apart her window shade.

I remember the day when the lullaby played softly for her...