One Foot in Front of the Other

I couldn’t take another step. I looked down the long, shiny hall leading to the ICU where my husband lay in his bed, hooked up to a ventilator. I couldn’t make that trip again. I couldn’t force my legs to go.

Mike had been in the hospital for more than two weeks since being diagnosed with multiple life-threatening conditions—a ruptured colon, internal bleeding, and blood clots in his lungs. Every day I had made the trip to the hospital in the morning, sat by his bedside all day as he lay still and quiet, and left in the evening. Every day I was there to watch him sleep, wipe his brow, and consult with his doctors and nurses.

But this day I just couldn’t face the routine again. As I stood in that empty hallway, my knees weakened. God, I can’t do this! I started to fall. But somehow I didn’t. I felt as if I had been caught. Gently, I regained my balance and straightened. Maybe I had more strength than I thought. Enough strength, even, to get down that hall. I took the first step, at once filled with the confidence that God would give me all the strength I needed.