I recalled having to tell the young man, then eighteen, what he’s been missing whilst in a coma. I wondered what demons he had to battle in there, his mind. I wondered if he had any dreams post the short piece he lived through of that horrible Sunday. I wondered if as they say, “you can hear in a coma”, if he heard all the while from the very beginning, with me, when there was no nurses, no police, no eyes to witness our every move. Just us and… How do you tell him he’s one parent down? How do you tell him how long he’s been down? How do you tell him he missed the funeral? How do you explain his new unfamiliar face? How do you explain his new living arrangements. “You’re up, now here’s a life from the twilight zone, brought to you by…” Sigh.
Those days I lived with constant stomach aches, on top of everything else. A precaution, they called it, with side effects. Everything seemed like a negative side effect of that day. Fallen dominoes of grief in an endless maze of happenings was this life. Little did I know then how long this maze would take me about, chasing my own tail of feathers for my head had been cut off all at once. I shake my head at myself at times now because heck, it’s now and I’m wiser, but I know all too well how easily I find myself entwined in my personal maze.
He took it and sat with it. We sat. The three of us.
John 16:33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. (period) But take heart! I have overcome the world.
…Remembering and meditating on that fact. That promise. That declaration. It’s…it’s everything. The victory has already been won in Jesus!
…He was there in that room as we sat. But He, He never sat. On my behalf He never sat. He continues to fight on my behalf as I continue to fight to stay enveloped in His peace, the creator of peace.