The family group has been talking about a number of things on our family group. Numerous things have been said. That strikes me as more than co-incidental. It seems like this is a story that has been on my mind so much over this last period of time.
I’ve been struck over and over by the phrase in the King James Version about how the Rich Man “fared sumptuously every day.” (There was that part about purple and fine linen, but I don’t think my old housecoat that I’ve worn most of the week, no matter what the color or cloth, really qualifies as that . . .)
But even though I’ve been so very sick this week, I’ve fared sumptuously. I’ve been taken care of. My house was warm, my family has waited on my hand and foot. I’ve had all the Sierra Mist and ice water and pain medicine and blankets and comfort measures that I’ve wanted . . . and my bed! Ah, my comfy bed!
This week the family of six that I have loved so much were (supposedly) evicted from their hotel room. It has been so cold. I don’t know where they are. I cannot think of them without crying. (I could have, I should have, maybe if I would have, I wonder, I hope . . . )
This week, the family in the trailer that houses ten (to twelve at any given time) found out that they must be OUT by the 31st. They don’t know what to do. They are talking of giving the children to relatives. The kid that is my favorite is with us this weekend. He is pensive and preoccupied. I just want to hug him. And then I come in to the computer and find that he is looking for games called “family killer.” Oh, Lord Jesus. Have mercy!
This week, our beautiful niece and her lovely family came home. Home to people who want to help, who are equipped to help and who desire to wrap this little family up and give them a place to heal. But it is a difficult and disappointing time for them, and even when physical amenities are in place and comfort measures are available, there is hard, hard work to be done, decisions to be made, and I’ve looked at her face in the pictures and prayed quiet desperate prayers and cried buckets. Oh, Lord Jesus. Have mercy!
Our friend lies dying in a hospital in Maui, while his wife, son and daughter keep watch. “Anytime,” we keep hearing. How can this go on so long? His only response from the depths of coma is an occasional moan. They and he have suffered so much. Oh, Lord Jesus. Have mercy!
And none of this even addresses the Third World situations that break my heart and how people suffer every single day, but that it is so much worse when they are sick.
And then I think about the fact that not only this week, but for my whole life, I’ve fared sumptuously. And much of it has been out. of. my. hands. It’s been choices of parents, husband, family and even offspringin’s that bless my heart in so many ways. And even my own choices that I made– often not beginning to realize how much difference it would make. (What if I HAD married that other guy, for pity sakes!!!)
And I know that I’m not dressed in “purple and fine linen” but I surely hope that it was the man’s heart and not the fact that he “fared sumptuously every day”that was the real sin.