Friday, June 18, 2004

Call Waiting

I remember standing outside the door and every once in a while giving it a gentle kick. My brothers had locked me out of the attic and were upstairs giggling at my frustration. I was a small boy, the youngest of three, but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction so I entertained myself in other areas of the house.

Every once in a while though I walked by the attic door and gave it a little kick. I hoped no one would notice, but I wanted to see if it might budge.

In a few minutes, my phone is going to ring. It will be my friend Roy asking if I am still willing to go with him and his wife this afternoon to visit Charles and Barbara, a couple of fellow church members. Amy wanted very badly to join us, but can't because she's running a higher than usual fever today.

The fever wouldn't slow Amy down, but we can't risk it for another reason.

Barbara is dying.

Like Roy and his wife, Charles and Barbara are in their 70s. They are from a different era. When these very hard times hit, their reaction was to hunker down, hold each other close while asking for prayers and privacy.

We've respected their wishes....but every once in a while we've wandered by and given the door a little nudge...a gentle kick.

This afternoon, it's opening a small crack....enough room to allow three people, carrying the love of many, to squeeze through...if only for a little while.

Gotta go. It's the phone.