“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives
means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving
advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our
wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a
moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and
bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face
with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
─Henri J.M. Nouwen, Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life
─Henri J.M. Nouwen, Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life
Back in mid-October of
last year I received an alarming phone call at 6:00 AM from my best friend of
40-plus years. She informed me she was
having her daughter-in-law take her to the emergency room. Her son rushed to her side and called for an
ambulance instead.
I travelled to the
beach to visit her in-hospital for what I thought would be the last time I would
ever see my best friend alive.
To make a long story
short, she was placed in intensive care and very nearly died. She was released from the hospital 18 days later. She had suffered from cerebral hypoxia, a
depravation of oxygen to the brain, and suffered substantial memory loss. Mercifully, her memory has mostly returned.
Its time to visit my
friend again so, I am packing up the PT Cruiser and Sophie The Wonderdog and
heading to the beach to see my best good friend for a couple of weeks and celebrate her 77th birthday.
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