It was late, Sunday evening hours stretching into Monday morning. Brent, Deanna and Whitney are exhausted with the strain of hope - hope building, waning and building again. Lauren has finally, though reluctantly, headed back to Indiana Wesleyan University to start the school year. (She came back a few hours later.)

I had only been back at the hospital an hour or so after Brent's call that BJ's vitals were wavering, so I decided to stay in with BJ while the others sought much needed rest. Whenever it was coming it was only fleeting as wavering numbers had been too much a part of the six weeks at the hospital.

Standing by his bedside, leaning into it and holding onto his hand, arm, or brushing back his hair; looking into his face and talking to him, praying for him, hoping for him. Believing in my heart that the Lord was with him no matter what - he would come through this, after all, it seemed such an awesome ministry had been laid out for him to persue. A young man who was fully committed to serving him and truly open to his call - wherever it would take him. He was bold in his faith but humble of spirit (well, most of the time - he was a teenager).

Looking into his face I tried to recall our times together, our conversations, hikes and wrestling matches. I still found it hard to see this physically changed body as my nephew, still swollen and bruised from his battle with sickness. I walked around the bed and did the same thing from the other side, trying to stay clear so that the nurses could go about their work as they did so efficiently and lovingly. I closed my eyes.

I opened them again with just enough of a start to realize that I hadn't just blinked as I thought I had. The doctor was standing opposite me looking concerned and resigned. He was asking the nurse if the parents were here or if they had been called. NO! This can't be happening now - this weekend had brought trials but renewed hope through dire circumstances that he was going to live. But it had come down to "a matter of time".

As Brent, Deanna, Lauren, and Whitney slip in and go to his side I slip out and make three quick, hard phone calls on my cell phone - "we are losing him - now." During the last of these calls I hear weeping beyond my own and I feel the weight of it, I know.

Times like these bring such conviction, sorrow, even guilt, questions that can't be formed into words. Even as we see how the Lord uses this precious life - loss - there are still unresolved questions, feelings and pain. Through it all there is hope in the Lord, our King of Kings; knowing and trusting that His will is perfect, even when beyond our understanding, this is the only hope some days that can keep us going.

Thank you Lord Jesus for the hope that you give us, the grace you extend and for the promise of life eternal. Thank you for the knowledge that BJ and your other faithful servants who have gone home, are beyond suffering. Thank you for the knowledge that his story is part of yours.


Brad

P.S. Thank you to the blog family that has been praying for me through my surgery and recovery...it went very well and I am getting stronger.