Pastors

Dale and Faye's daughter Anna had cystic fibrosis. A blood clot that formed because of her severe coughing had lodged in Anna's windpipe. I had finished breakfast when the call came. Could I meet Dale and Faye at the hospital?

I stepped into the room by 7:45 and sat next to Faye. That's when they told me she was gone. We wept. A friend came. A doctor came and went. It became quiet. The moment had come, and I must pray. On my knees in that little room, I tried to make my voice work well enough to choke and stumble through the words of Psalm 27:

"The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? … One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord forever, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord, and seek him in his temple. For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling."

I can't say, now, that I chose the best psalm, but that was the prayer of the moment, the first of more to be squeezed and poured from me in that next ...

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