Wednesday January 11, 2012
I escaped the hospital today, for just a few hours.
I’ve been here for days, often by myself, and I was feeling pretty dusty. Two sweet sons engineered my getaway; one came to pick me up and the other arranged for a trusted friend to sit with Andrew. (Andrew is my third son, who is in the hospital following a serious car accident. A few more details here and on Facebook.)
It’s an honor and a privilege to be a mom. I was reminded of that when my son awoke from his first surgery with the words, “I love you, Mom.”
But sometimes the path gets stirred up, there are holes and detours, and we get to feeling pretty dusty. I know I have this week.
My sweet daughter-in-law sent me this verse the other day, and I’ve seen it come to life over and again since.
“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him; for He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103:13,14)
As I sat by my son’s hospital bed with compassion pouring out of every pore, I remembered that He has compassion on me. As I love and hurt for my son, He loves and hurts for me. And he knows. He remembers. He knows how my boy was formed—just where those bones should be.
He remembers what? That we’re dust. We fall. We cling. We wallow. He remembers that, and He still has compassion on me.
We live in a dusty world. It’s fallen. Bad stuff happens. But in the midst of it all, His unfailing compassion is there.
Whatever your dust today, that’s quite a promise!