I will bless the Lord forever
I will trust Him at all times
He has delivered me from all fear
He has set my feet upon a rockI will not be moved

And I'll say of the Lord
You are my shield, my strength
My portion, deliverer
My shelter, strong tower
My very present help in time of need

Whom have I in heaven but You
There's none I desire beside You
You have made me glad
And I'll say of the Lord
You are my shield, my strength
My portion, deliverer
My shelter, strong tower
My very present help in time of need

I have liked this song for a long time and it also is partly based on one of my favorite Scripture passage, Psalm 73. In addition, we sang it at Tucker Beam's funeral last week. I think seeing his Mom singing this song while holding Tucker's favorite blanket in her arms was one of the most worshipful moments I've ever seen.

Sorrow

Work has been difficult this week, probably more so than I can ever remember. I had cared for a precious patient off and on these past few weeks who died while I was caring for him last night. It was not unexpected and it was peaceful, but yet wonderful and terrible at the same time. He had been sick with cancer for a long time but not suffering as some I've seen, except for a few days, really. He took a turn for the worse early in the evening and stopped breathing shortly after midnight. It is hard to know how you feel in that type of situation. I did not want him to suffer and did not want his parents to suffer watching him, but I selfishly didn't want to be the one caring for him as he passed onto Heaven. His parents expressed that they knew he was tired and wanted him to be free, so it was joyful and yet excruciatingly painful when he died. His face really showed that being absent from the body is to present with the Lord. He had been having breathing issues for a few hours, although we believe he was comfortable when he took his last breath, and his expression was more of a smile than I've ever seen on anyone when they died. He was such an incredibly precious child and my heart is absolutely broken to think of the pain they are experiencing and will experience every day until they are reunited with him in Eternity.
I realized two things about myself on my way home from work after all of that. First, I do not live in reality pretty much ever. When I'm at work, I think about home as little as possible, and vice versa at home. I think I would probably lose it if I thought about all of the pain that I see people going through here at the hospital while I am at home with my family. I do think about my family while I'm at work, but only in the context of home stuff. I cannot think about them in relation to my job. I know that's bizarre because the truth of the matter is that my kids could get cancer, too, but again, I would lose it if I were to acknowledge that to myself. I am having a hard time seeing how painful life can be and is for so many people around me.
The second thing I realized is that if I am completely honest with myself and with the Lord, I would rather be selfish and have them remain healthy and anonymous and with Brad and I than to let them be used by the Lord the way my patient's life was (and still is). His parents absolutely never spent time complaining or feeling sorry for themselves, but when he was uncomfortable and struggling to breathe for a while, his mom did say that she didn't see how one could be expected to watch your child suffer through cancer and then watch them die. I can't help but agree. I literally cannot fathom waking up every single day for the rest of my life missing my child. I honestly would rather keep them to myself, even though I know they are not mine to begin with. I guess that's something I need to work on.