Reaching for the hem...

On the night of Lindsay's funeral I went through my phone and found text messages that she had sent me over the previous months. Some of them are from Lins time in hospital. They are all really special and personal to me but I think this one can be an encouragement to us all. I really believe that Lins glorified God in her sickness and that should not be forgotten.

The passage in the Bible that tells of how a woman who had been sick for many years pushed through the crowd and grabbed the hem of Jesus garment, was important to Lins and I during the time of sickness.

Leaving Lins in hospital each night was horrible. Loads of kisses and hugs and prayers night after night and then walking out into the cold dark hospital car park on my own to make the journey home. I used to send Lindsay texts at night when I came home from leaving her. This particular night I must have told her to hold on the hem of Jesus garment as I was not able to hold her myself at that time. This was Lins response...'the hem? I'm taking the whole lot firmly..God with me...x'

I do believe that power left Jesus body as it did with in the Bible story and entered Lins, but it did not ultimately have the effect we wanted it to. I don't know why it didn't turn out the way we wanted but I know that the peace of God was so evident in Lins life even if she did not always feel it herself....although on many occasions she witnessed to the peace she experienced and 'green pastures' she found herself in.

About a week before Lins passed away, I got up from the bedside in her parents house where I had been sitting holding her hand, praying and reading beside her, to change a song on the ipod. When I turned back round again Lins arm was straight up in the air, her face was grimaced and it appeared she was straining to grab something. I tried not to carried away by this but by this stage in Lins' illness she was barely able to lift hardly any of her limbs. The best she could do was lift her hand up to stroke my face but lifting it straight up would have been out of question.

I called Arthur (her Dad), to come and see but as he entered the room she had just brought her hand down and laid it on her face. We both cried, sensing that Lins was reaching out to Jesus. That she was reaching for the hem of the garment or maybe even in her own words the 'whole lot.'

At night in my bed, as I listen to music and try to mutter some words out to God (I still find it difficult to pray any kind of coherent prayers), I try to do what Lins taught me to do. To lift my hands up, straight out and straining towards the roof and ask God to come and heal me.

I will be honest, sometimes it feels like I am clutching thin air but deeper than that sometimes I sense that God is in the midst of my brokenness and pain loving me in the silence.