Weekends are for Work: death
Before I started my job, I only remember death significantly affecting me two times.
The first was when my grandma died a slow death from Leukemia. I remember how she looked the night she died: still and peaceful, as if she was sleeping. I remember how my mom touched her, as if she really WAS just taking a nap and my mom was somehow comforting her. I couldn't bring myself to do the same, but I also couldn't stop looking at her as if to convince myself of the fact that she really was gone.
The first was when my grandma died a slow death from Leukemia. I remember how she looked the night she died: still and peaceful, as if she was sleeping. I remember how my mom touched her, as if she really WAS just taking a nap and my mom was somehow comforting her. I couldn't bring myself to do the same, but I also couldn't stop looking at her as if to convince myself of the fact that she really was gone.
The second time was when my grandpa died barely a year later, quickly and unexpectedly, all by himself. I was a new driver, driving myself, my dad, and my brothers to my sister's house where I was going to go on a road trip. We were listening to the Nebraska game when news of his death came by phone. It took my breath away and almost rendered me useless at the wheel. I remember how he looked in his casket, not like himself at all. Not the goofy, loving grandpa I knew. That grandpa wouldn't be laying there so still and looking so, well, dead.
Since I started working in EMS I have come to know death of the young and the old. Death on the side of the road, death in living rooms, death in the back of the ambulance, death in ED's, death in grocery stores, and the list could go on. I have seen violent death and death that came quietly. I know what it feels like to have somebody's life grow cold underneath fingers that are working so hard to keep keep it going.
Even though I have been exposed to death more than I would like to say, I still found myself with the wind knocked out of me in shock and disbelief when I got to work on Friday morning and saw the news headlines about the shooting in Connecticut. My mind couldn't grasp such horror. My throat was tight with emotion and tears. I felt sick for most of the rest of the day. I intentionally left the TV and Radio off and stayed away from news sights online. It was too overwhelming to hear about 20 little kids who's lives had been brutally ended.
I remember where I was for a lot of these big, horrible, life changing days across our country:
I remember driving in the old beater blue van as we listened to news of the Columbine shooting.
I remember that we were camping in the cold, COLD Rocky Mountains when all those kids died in Russia.
I remember sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on my bed listening to news about the school shooting in Texas.
I remember waking up to news about the shooting in Aurora and immediately checking to see if my friend who lives there was ok.
But this. Those kids. What if it was my nieces or nephews? Putting myself in the place of the people directly affected by these senseless killings makes my mind numb. There is so.much.hurt.
I appreciated my pastor's message on Sunday, when he transitioned from our song service of hope and joy in the reality of God with us, to how the truth of Emmanuel should be our comfort and strength through this time of darkness. The fact that we don't understand everything about God should not be disheartening or discouraging to us. The reality is, if God is small enough for us to put in a box, then he is not a big enough God for us to worship. And because of what I know about who God is and what I have seen him do in my life and the lives around me, I am content to rest in his goodness, to cherish his grace, to call on his strength, to joy in his comfort. He is faithful and never changing.
Lamentations says:
"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 'The LORD is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him.'"
Since I started working in EMS I have come to know death of the young and the old. Death on the side of the road, death in living rooms, death in the back of the ambulance, death in ED's, death in grocery stores, and the list could go on. I have seen violent death and death that came quietly. I know what it feels like to have somebody's life grow cold underneath fingers that are working so hard to keep keep it going.
I remember where I was for a lot of these big, horrible, life changing days across our country:
I remember driving in the old beater blue van as we listened to news of the Columbine shooting.
I remember that we were camping in the cold, COLD Rocky Mountains when all those kids died in Russia.
I remember sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on my bed listening to news about the school shooting in Texas.
I remember waking up to news about the shooting in Aurora and immediately checking to see if my friend who lives there was ok.
But this. Those kids. What if it was my nieces or nephews? Putting myself in the place of the people directly affected by these senseless killings makes my mind numb. There is so.much.hurt.
I appreciated my pastor's message on Sunday, when he transitioned from our song service of hope and joy in the reality of God with us, to how the truth of Emmanuel should be our comfort and strength through this time of darkness. The fact that we don't understand everything about God should not be disheartening or discouraging to us. The reality is, if God is small enough for us to put in a box, then he is not a big enough God for us to worship. And because of what I know about who God is and what I have seen him do in my life and the lives around me, I am content to rest in his goodness, to cherish his grace, to call on his strength, to joy in his comfort. He is faithful and never changing.
Lamentations says:
"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 'The LORD is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him.'"
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