“He healeth all our diseases…” (Psalm 103:3)
In the old Western novels, cowboys are taught that once a wound begins to itch, healing is on its way.
On January 23, a little over two weeks ago, my wife had what appears to have been a pulmonary embolism which triggered a cardiac arrest. That was a Friday and on Wednesday night, with the counsel of doctors, my family made the decision to unplug life support. My wife of nearly 53 years had not responded to any of the stimuli and treatments. A physician friend said to me later, “Your wife died in the nail salon on Friday.”
It would appear so.
I’ve wept ever since. We had a memorial service on Monday, February 2, and family members have been helping me with a thousand and one details. Two wonderful ladies from our church spent the day here last Friday cleaning the house from top to bottom. I’m still eating meals people brought.
And I’m still weepy. I asked a friend, “When do the tears stop?” She answered, “I don’t know yet. Jim’s only been gone 14 years.”
I do not grieve for Margaret. She was living with such pain and infirmities, and now that is all gone. She is with the Lord, out of this pain and misery and dancing with the redeemed of the ages, if God’s Word can be believed.
I’m betting my life that it can.
A large number of people assure me they are praying for God’s healing for me.
Healing. What a nice concept.