time for everything

The Royal Infirmary's over the other side of town. Which makes a visit there a fairly lengthy trip.

I was over there, at the hospital, twice today.

First thing in the morning, first of all, since I'd learned that one of our genuinely gentle gentlemen had taken a turn for the worse.

John's been getting by on about a third of his lung capacity for a good little while. He was diagnosed some nineteen years ago with pulminary fibrosis and told back then that he could expect maybe four more years. He's done pretty well to last as long as he has, though latterly his breathing's not been good.

All the same, it can't be easy living like that. Getting such a small proportion of the air you'd normally get on every intake of breath.

But he's battled on brightly in his usual chirpy way and he didn't ever let it get him down. Not openly, at any rate.

The last few days he's taken a turn for the worse. Gone downhill 'like an avalanche', as his wife very aptly put it.

So I looked in first thing to see the man. To read him God's word and to pray at his side. To thank him again for all that he's been and has done. And assure him of both the love and the power of God.

His breathing was plainly a struggle. And later today, I think it was late afternoon, he died.

I only found out when I called again at the hospital in the early evening. I'd rung his home and no one was there so I figured they must be with him. I guess we passed on the road.

A second trip to the hospital. But this time no one there. Except the staff. The girl who'd been there in the morning and still was there at night. Erica. Long hours these nurses work.

So I took the chance to thank her and her colleagues for the work they do. She said that John had died a very peaceful death. A lot of that was due to them, the nurses who tended his needs.

I don't have a clue what faith the likes of Erica have. But in what they do, they're very much servants of God. Bringing his peace.

It didn't feel as if the trip was wasted. There isn't any limit to the miles we sometimes need to go to say that word of gratitude which others need to hear. Perhaps her hearing someone say those two short words - 'thank you' - perhaps that sort of made that nurse's day. I hope so.

After that second hospital visit I caught up with the family later on. Down at John's house. His wife and daughters were there. And the rest of the evening was spent having time with them.

Most of the time just listening. People need to talk. There is a certain therapy in once again rehearsing all the details of a person's final days. The ups and downs, the twists and turns. Those tiny little details which reveal for folk the providence of God.

Sometimes all they really need is someone there to listen.

And much of the rest of the day I've been doing the same. Simply trying to listen. Mainly to the Lord.

The week is getting fairly full. I'm already starting to wonder how on earth there'll be time for all of the preparation that each of the services brings.

And I don't like ever being rushed. I just can't hear the Lord too well when rushing here and there.

We all need space. The time and space to grieve. The time and space to listen to the Lord. The time and space to speak those little courtesies and say a heart-felt 'thank you' to those 'angels' of the Lord.

There is (a) time for everything, declared the writer of Ecclesiastes. That's very reassuring!