So...I am hopefully done playing nurse to my family. Hubby is on the mend--feels good today. Sees eye doctor tomorrow. Baby Girl was her full, happy, bubbly, perky self this morning. She see's doc on Friday just to be sure.
I need desperately to get my sermon for tomorrow written, but just got a sad phone call (for lack of a better word). A little boy was just admitted to a hospice house this morning--he has outlived his diagnosis for much longer than any of us expected. My heart aches for this family--this little boy whose forehead I marked with the sign of the cross on his baptismal day just over 6 years ago.
A few years ago, I thought I was going to move, but had this nagging feeling that I was supposed to stay until I did his funeral. Well--I didn't move then--for lots of reasons. And now--in just a few weeks, a different congregation will be voting to extend me a call. (It's by no means definite; money is a huge factor but that's another post.) If they do call me, it'll be a few months yet before moving. Just recently I said to my hubby, I haven't thought about this boy's funeral for some time. But today, I wonder. Is this what I am here for?