Keep Fighting, Sweet One, Keep Fighting

That may be a test from God! Keep on believing His will read the text message in my messaging app. I stared at the phone. My sister-in-law was lying in a hospital bed in the ICU, fighting for her life after a serious car accident that totaled the car, left the driver dead, and seriously injured another passenger in the car. She was unconscious, had lost her spleen, had broken ribs and collapsed lungs, fluid around the heart and lungs, a broken shoulder and arm, and bleeding on the brain. On the second day, the doctor had said he couldn't guarantee she would make it past the next hour and, after a specialist came to examine her in the small town hospital she was in, the attending suggested they sign the papers to take her off the ventilator. 

It was then, after I'd sent out the umpteenth update to family and friends, keeping them informed in real time of the battle my sister-in-law was going through for her life, that I'd received this message from one of her friends. 

My reply was swift and curt. 

I don't believe God gives us bad things to test us. That is wrong Theology and not encouraging.

The other person fell silent. I continued to send updates to everyone except for them. 

It all seemed very unreal. Just two days before she had brought her little babysitting charge over to the house in the morning, on my day off, and we had enjoyed spending time with Seder. I taught him in Sabbath School so he already knew me, and when my husband brought out the puppet with the moustache that matched his own, the toddler laughed in glee. My husband leaned down to his level and said, moustache! and Seder tentatively reached out with both hands to touch the ends of my husband's moustache. 

That afternoon, she went down to babysit Seder during his nap and I headed to town to pick up her PCR test result so she could have a printed copy when she traveled. Restless, I decided to stop by the grocery store to pick up a couple of items and ended up buying groceries for a week, even though I knew we would be going to town on Friday for the regular shop. 

After she'd packed, we'd lugged her duffel suitcase up the back steps to the car. My husband, frustrated that she was going home against his advice, didn't come with us to the airport. He's not happy with me, she said sadly as I dodged minivans on the road. I didn't know what to say. They were both right. He for not wanting her to spend money she didn't have on a ticket home and she for wanting to see her mom after a difficult and depressing school year. Her friend was getting engaged and she wanted to be at the party. 3 months was a very long summer to while away, even if Seder was really cute and an easy child to babysit. 

We pulled up next to a luggage cart by the curb. She put her backpack and purse on the cart while she hurried to help me lift the duffel suitcase out of the trunk. I briefly noticed her purse left unattended and wanted to say, be careful, don't leave your purse alone like that, someone could take it, but didn't. 

I'll miss you, she said unexpectedly, as I gave her a hug goodbye. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so expressive emotionally. She was a quiet reserved person around me most of the time but we had been growing closer this past year. I'd started giving her a hug every time I saw her, between classes or if she came over to our house, and she had gotten accustomed to it and now moved forward expectantly when she saw me. I'll miss you too! I replied. 

You're sure you have your passport? I repeated for the second time. She laughed, patted her beige purse, and replied, Yes, I do. 

Okay, then. Go to the second door because usually the first door is closed. When you go in, turn right and go straight and you can see through the window, see? There is the place when you get in line. There's nobody there now so it will be easy for you. Send a message when you arrive safely, okay?

She nodded, then turned her luggage cart around and started pushing. I got into the car, fiddling with the entertainment system til I found a good radio station and then started pulling out. I peered inside as I passed the doors but didn't see her. 

22 hours later, I was sitting in the conference room at work, rechecking details on the graduation bulletin we were working on for the weekend. The last graduate had picked up their regalia and I was tired from a long day. I checked my phone and noticed several missed calls from my husband. I pressed redial. 

She's in the hospital. She was in a bad car accident. The car flipped over and burst into flames and the driver died, tumbled out as I could hear a slight panic in his voice. 

I am coming home, I'll be there soon. I said as reassuringly as I could. I stopped by my boss's office to let him know what had happened. He prayed with me, then, as I left the building, I saw the chaplain talking to another pastor. They also prayed with me. I hurried up the 174 steps and walked home as fast as I could. 

The next few days were a blur. That first night we didn't sleep properly. A thoughtful friend dropped by with watermelon; I'd prepared some for us to eat and at the last minute I'd switched bowls to give him the one with the nicest pieces. He'd enjoyed the snack—his second meal for the day—and I'd ended up with a bout of food poisoning. In between using the bathroom and answering calls from concerned family and friends, neither of us had gotten good sleep. The second night was better, though, and we could rest for an interrupted period of time. 

People came and went. Messages bombarded my phone. By Sunday, I'd turned off my notifications on one app. I communicated with my family and best friend through two other apps so I didn't need to be on that one. I was weary. Weary of it all. I couldn't even imagine how my husband felt as he coordinated everything from afar and gave the best advice he could. The tears came and went as we pictured her broken body lying in the hospital bed. 

As I sat for a quiet moment amidst the maelstrom of it all, a verse came to mind. 

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. ~Psalm 27:13

I held on to that promise tightly. I didn't know what would happen in the next hours, days or even weeks. I didn't know if my sister-in-law would be able to get the emergency care she needed in time or if the injuries to her brain would be life-altering. I didn't know if God would work miracles and heal her completely for His glory. 

But this I did know. God did not close all doors, put us in darkness, and then say This is a test from Me. God was good. Satan was evil. God gave life. Satan came to destroy. Blame had to be rightly attributed to the source of where it came from and when it came to horrible things like this, the devil was to be blamed, not God. 

I did not know what God would do but this I was confident of—God would show His goodness, and only His goodness. And it would not be in the hereafter, it would be now. In the land of the living. So I would keep that close in my heart as we waited, prayed, and trusted in His care. It was all we could do now.