It will be a slower morning with a lot of treatments this afternoon. Picking up from my posting last night, of course, I’m (like my family) are still grief. I feel like I’m using my tip toes reaching downward trying to find the bottom of the darkness of grief, but yet I can still feel just empty space, that I have not yet explored the full depth of it and without God’s grace, it will beyond what this mere mortal can handle. How can I bare this?
I have a new nurse, which is a good thing. He actually came into my room and spoke with me and prayed with me. The previous nurses (except for 1) avoided me like the plague. This nurse, Jason, and I talked about how some people cope with grief by avoiding it. That some of the other nurses and staff wanted to just close my door and not come in unless it was an absolutely emergency.
After dialysis, I’m feeling some stronger, but we started out slow.
I spend time reading for a path out. I’ve read about a couple of people who were this bad off and lived, lived for a few years at least. But my hopes have been dashed so much, I’m so afraid to have hope.
I have never believed in a magician or jenny-in-a-bottle God. That is the God that changes history only if we pray hard enough. I’ve learned through life experiences that doesn’t happen most of the time, only wishful thinking.
I have never known how God works with fate. This is something the Greeks struggled with an as do I. God has to beyond fate, bigger than fate, or He could not be more of a God than the Greek gods. But it is clear that God lets history take it place, even if that history is horrid. I trust that He knows how all this works out.
So, I argue with myself if it is good for me spiritually and mentally to imagine that there is a road out of this nightmare? Will I ever see outside of a hospital? Will I ever smell clean fresh air? Will I be able to sit on our dock and hold hands with my wife again? Or, will those hopes only worsen the despair when it doesn’t come?
J. Michael Jones 
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