Among my treasured memories of our wedding day is a photograph. It’s not a photograph that made our official wedding album – but the best ones rarely do; and it’s certainly not one that would make the gallery of this blog! Its not even my own memory – it’s a memory I borrowed – but it belongs to Annie and thus belongs to me.
It’s six minutes after eleven on the evening of Tuesday, March 12th 2013. I’m about to leave the hospice after a very full day. Full of Spirit-lead and empowered opportunity to share the gospel of hope in Jesus Christ. And full, in the same measure, of difficulty.
Blog post for today can be read here – meanwhile, below is a picture as fresh as today!
Love in Jesus,
r&a
Here we are
Here we are
Bandaged and bruised
Awaiting a cure
Here we areHere You are
Here You are
Our beautiful King
Bringing relief
Here You are with usYou’re the remedy
Oh, in us
You’re the remedy
Let us be the remedy
Let us bring the remedy
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Thanatophobia. The word may be unfamiliar but the older you get the more familiar you will become with its meaning. Thanatophobia is the fear of death or more specifically being dead or dying; and according to those ‘Top Ten’ surveys that frequent the internet, it remains unchallenged as the number one fear most common to mankind.
The sound of Annie retching and heaving has been a common and unwelcome audible intrusion over the last year. Over the last few weeks, it’s become so common that silence feels like the intruder – a more welcome one, of course.
Somebody recently asked me: “When are you going to update the blog?” My response “When God gives me something to share.”
This gallery contains 15 photos.
During Annie’s second bout of time in hospital early in the month, a nurse whispered “Has your wife come to us from the hospice?” It was nearly midnight and they were in the process of moving Annie from one ward to another. I was tired and burdened with luggage as I followed the porter – but I smiled and replied, “Yes, she has.” The nurse frowned sorrowfully and said “Aaaah, that’s sad.” I know it was late but I had to break the whisper and the myth. “No. It’s not sad at all. It’s a really special place.” What was really sad was being in hospital – being rolled through the warren of corridors at midnight; but unlike the nurse, I exercised a little sensitivity.
I don’t really know if I need the hot-chocolate I am currently in the process of warming the milk up for, but it’s a cosy routine that I am rather fond of each night I return from the hospice without my Annie. If anything, it’s a warm hourglass for the duration of this post. I’ll push the ‘Publish’ button either once I’ve taken the last sip, or the surface cools to form that nasty skin rendering it (in my opinion) undrinkable; whichever comes first!
Broken Chariots 