Only Today Matters

My 94-year-old aunt had a stroke yesterday.  Her husband (my Mom's brother) had gone out for a few minutes and came back and found her unconscious on the floor.  Now she lies in a hospital bed surrounded by machines and strangers.  Her breathing is regulated by a ventilator, her vital signs monitored on an array of devices, her nourishment is liquid.  Her eyes opened when my wife and I went in to visit last night, but her face made no expression.  Whether because of the stroke or her weariness or the tubing in her mouth I don't know.  One can only wonder what lies on the other side, much as with an infant.  Her body is small and frail, her arms bruised and broken from the fall.  Her trademark red hair is showing gray roots and I know if she could speak, the spunky lady I know would be distraught at her appearance.

So, we prayed and then my wife talked quietly to her.  Conversation is not easy for me in the best of circumstances, so the notion of a monologue with my stricken aunt left me tongue-tied. But my better half is able to express love and concern and cheer and compassion without needing a response.  Out of the abundance of her heart her mouth speaks.  I just sat and held my aunt's hand and she feebly returned my grip.

After awhile, I went out to call my mother and my sisters to tell them what little we knew.  Since my uncle was not there when we came in, there was very little the nursing staff could say about my aunt's prognosis.  Still, a stroke for a woman of 94 years and poor health to begin with clearly means the long-term prognosis is not good.  As I sat with her, I was reminded that the long-term prognosis for my body is limited also.  I just have few immediate indicators of how short my time really us.  I am just a vapor in the scope of eternity.  But today I have another day to live. God help me to expend each minute purposefully.