scorched places

Daily, at my job as a bone marrow transplant nurse practitioner, I face suffering and pain, life and death. It is so hard. Yet, I love it. At times it's too much and I just want it all to stop. Counting the days until my next day off or a vacation. At other times I don't want there to be an entire week before I see them again. I have witnessed beauty and horror simultaneously. I have felt empty at the same time my heart is full. I have celebrated at the same time I'm grieving. 

Some of you may be thinking, man, she's a glutton for pain and suffering or just crazy. Trust me, it's crazy to me most days that this if my life. But I'm meant to do it. In the Lord's sovereignty and mystery, this is where I find myself. This is how He has gifted me and these words ring true in my life more than I actually want them to:

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." 2 Corinthians 1:4

The past month has been particularly devastating. During October I grieved the anniversary of Marcus's passing while holding the hand of a dear patient and friend after his last breath was taken. While missing my husband, I told two wives their husbands wouldn't be with us much longer. I held them as they cried, wishing I wasn't there but also so grateful I was. It is a gift to walk this journey with my patients and their families. There is healing in my soul with each story. Even though it's hard to explain fully, here is one example. My heart breaks that Marcus died alone on a street, an image that use to haunt me. I was not there to hold his hand, comforting him by speaking truth and love over him as he took his last breath on this earth. I have, however, since that time been able to make sure none of my patients are alone as they pass from this life. With several, I have been the lone person at the bedside praying over them while their breathing subsides. 

Even while writing this, a patient's wife called me to let me know her husband had died. She is the same age I was when Marcus died. I'm in shock. The last time I talked with him was my last shift before the week of the anniversary. He was a little out of it, but I was saying good night and telling him not to give the staff any trouble. He said "OK, I love you." Immediately I responded, "love you too buddy" as his family chuckled. That night I was spent and needed to hear a "I love you". I felt like the Lord gave me a gift through him. 

All of this, with the usual heaviness of October, my grief and pain has been unrelenting. The Lord is teaching me things about Him and myself during this rough, heavy season. It was too much for me to bear, I ran ragged to the point of sickness. I spent the week of the anniversary recovering at my granny's—the best place in the world to be sick. He has gifted me and He has given me life experiences to gleam from. Still if I'm not leaning on Him for understanding, for strength, for rest then I will fail, I will be exhausted, and I will crash. It is too much for one person to handle. He is abounding in steadfast love when I'm not. In my sin I continue to turn to escape, to distraction. I watch too much television, I eat too much, I buy too much. Those things will always leave me empty and desiring more. When I turn to Him through the word and through prayer I am reminded: 

"And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you will be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail." Isaiah 58:11