Lessons From the Edge

Sometimes it's hard to face another day.

I talked to B this week and saw this lesson in full color. He was in the hallway looking lost, so I stopped to ask if he needed any help. B looked up at me and said he didn't want to be here anymore. And I knew the "here" to which he was referring wasn't his wheelchair, or the hallway, or even Edgewood. He told me he doesn't know where he is half the time, and he's lonely because his family hardly ever visits, and he's tired of the aches and pains. I've heard him say these things before, but this time he seemed more sure of his feelings. The fact of the matter is, B is tired of living here on Earth.
I knealt down in front of B, grabbed his hands, and said, "Let's pray."
B thanked God for his many blessings, and I prayed for B's heart. I asked God to bring him peace, and to buoy him with hope for the day when the confusion, the loneliness, the pain, and every tear will be no more.
Sitting there with B, seeing the tears running down his cheeks, I realized I cannot understand the extent of his feelings. I cannot comprehend what it must be like - feeling trapped in a body that hurts, and which cannot do the things it used to do. I can't imagine not wanting to wake up to live another day.
It's beyond me.
But that's right where B was sitting.

Sometimes it's hard to face another day.

Yet, we still have hope. Because there will come a day when all the confusion and loneliness and pain and EVERY tear will be no more.