Every year on Good Friday I am reminded of what my mother used to say: “It’s Friday… but Sunday’s coming!”
My 95 year old uncle has been in the hospital for the past two weeks. He went in having difficulty breathing due to fluid build up on his very damaged heart. After that was addressed and my aunt was preparing to take him home via a stay in the local Life Care nursing facility, it was determined that he had a kink in his intestine and needed surgery. At age 95 with a very bad heart! But there was really no other way. In the moments before they took him, the family said all the things you say when you are not sure that you will see someone again. But he came through the surgery splendidly and has healed from that remarkably well.
Last week the fluid built up around his heart again, and he was transferred in the middle of the night to ICU. Once again, the fluid was reduced, yet he continues to have trouble sleeping and refuses to eat. But somehow he is getting stronger every day, going for (short) walks and using his iPad to check on current events.
This morning as we sat down in church I received my morning phone call from my aunt. Standing out in the vestibule I rejoiced to hear that the night had been a good one, he was having pancakes for breakfast, and he was moving to a “regular” room today from ICU. Hallelujah!
My uncle has a long way to go and a new lifestyle to adjust to. My aunt knows each moment is precious because the next ones are not (not ever) guaranteed. But today was a small Easter miracle for our family, and we are thankful.