Perspective

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)

About a month and a half ago, my firstborn son Josiah got sick; and one night—€”in the middle of the night—€”I had lots of time to think because of his illness. While carrying vomit-laden sheets and blankets down the steps to our laundry room around 3:00 a.m., I thought, “I sure wish life would slow down a little bit. When am I ever going to get caught up? When am I ever going to get some rest???” And then I realized that sometimes life does slow down—drastically—like it did for our friend Bob in the hospital in Winchester or our friend Gil in the hospital in Blacksburg.

For Bob, a heart blockage nearly ended his life; and now things have slowed down to a crawl for him and his wife Cindy, with one focus…getting him well. I can imagine Cindy sitting beside Bob and thinking, “Just breathe. Just take the next breath and the next and the next.” And for a time, that’s all that matters in life.

Gil is a man from Uruguay who lived with my family back in 1990 when he arrived in this country. Because my dad knows Spanish, our household was a good place for Gil to begin his adjustment to life in the USA. Now Gil is a grad student at Virginia Tech, finishing up his master’s degree in engineering. On April 16, Gil was one of the students shot in the horrific events that have been broadcast all over the globe. Because of God’s grace, he survived! But for him, like Bob, life and time instantly slowed down to a crawl with a singular focus.

So often, we measure time in weeks or months or years, rushing from one activity to the next, one phase of life to the following one. Occasionally, we measure time in moments—one breath to the next—like Bob, like Gil, like I do when I lie in bed beside my sick child. But I can’t forget that for so many people every day, life doesn’€™t just slow down; it stops.

How fortunate I am to have vomit-covered sheets to wash! How blessed I am to have a safe, living, breathing child under my roof tonight! As I laid beside Josiah during his sickness, I watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, I saw his hands like little starfish holding his teddy bear, I noticed how his closed eyes look like little half moons, and then I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his eyelashes curling gracefully, brushing his cheek. Is there anything more beautiful than the eyelashes of a sleeping child—my sleeping child?

And so that night, time slowed for me—finally—after Josiah had been soothed, after the trash bag with throw-up in it had been taken down to the garage, after the washer and dryer had started spinning their way to cleanliness, after the dirty teddy bear had been put in the laundry and a second one found—and I lay there counting time by moments and feeling overwhelming gratitude.

Visit Davene at Life On Sylvan Drive.