We're in Macon's Medical center of Central Georgia as I write this. Bunny's by the bedside of the woman who carried her for nine months and who modeled faith, grace, kindness and compassion to her all her life.
It's been a week of amazing glimpses of just how God works, despite the mess a sin soaked world presents as "life." We've heard some heart-wrenching words, and some that were as joy filled as any I have ever had occasion to overhear. There's been devastation, and there's been hope. And now, there's the knowledge that we are as close as we can be, doing all we can.
The ancient Celts used to talk about "thin places." They thought that certain features of the landscape - ancient oaks. mountains, beautiful rivers or ocean vistas were sometimes places where one could feel the very presence of God.
Well, I sit in a chair on a tile floor. To my right - a sink with various means of scrubbing the germs off. In front of me is the dry erase board with the date and the names of the nurse and aide. Nothing remarkable there. Nothing to inspire, or even remind you of a present God. Instead of the roar of ocean waves or the gentle rustle of oak leaves, I hear the air mattress compressor and the sounds of a hospital.
There's nothing lovely here... except the faces of two of the women who have taught me so much about what it means to have real "God will provide", "Satan is that the best you can do", "O death where is your sting", "This is not the end," - FAITH.
In this room, God is present - available - tangible --- right now.
and I am simply in awe of Him
and grateful for these two precious gifts.
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