Daily Guideposts - 20 Day SampleSample

"Comfort for the Pained" Today, my father-in-law’s death feels imminent. He is eighty-six years old and frail, and in the past week he has undergone emergency quadruple-bypass surgery, developed severe pneumonia and lost 90 percent of his lung capacity. The outlook is grim. To make matters worse, my husband’s parents live several states away. For the past six days, Perry and I have been relegated to riding the roller coaster of updates by text message: “He slept better last night . . . antibiotics seem to be helping.” “Tough afternoon. Weakening by the minute.” “Making jokes with the nurses . . . back to his old self.” “Confused about where he is and what necessitated a hospital stay.” On the heels of one update in particular—Perry’s brother sent word that all four siblings thought he should fly home as soon as possible, “just in case”—I came downstairs to find my husband standing on the porch, his fists pushed into his pockets, his eyes pressed shut, his face craned toward the hot sun and tears streaming down his cheeks. A brokenhearted smile curved his lips. Tears clouded my own eyes as I took in the sight of my suffering husband, but something about his posture encouraged my soul. Seeking out light on the darkest of days—this is how we grieve as those who cling fast to hope. God, during the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, remind me that You see me, You are with me, You care. —Ashley Wiersma Digging Deeper: Pss. 29:11, 31:23–24; Rom. 5:5