Strength For the Moment

My father’s cousin Frances had a heart attack. A widow in her late 70s, Frances had no children. My mom cared for her, and I provided respite care.

Frances had always been rather thin, but now she seemed frail and gaunt. Her coloring matched the sheets pulled over her trembling body, and her words slurred when she tried to speak. She could barely keep her eyes open while I sat with her. An independent former schoolteacher, Frances could hold her own when she was healthy and could be feisty at times. But now it seemed that any dab of spunk had disappeared.

When a nurse came in to draw blood, Frances grabbed my hand for comfort. As the needle pierced her skin, Frances squeezed. Tighter and tighter and tighter. The sharp prongs on my wedding ring and engagement band pressed against my middle finger and cut into the skin. Pain, mixed with the scent of rubbing alcohol, caused my head to feel fuzzy. When Frances finally let go, my hand felt numb and my head was spinning.

Frances’ sudden vigor reminded me that God adequately equips me to care for her and other family members when my own strength fails me. When I hang onto God, he replenishes my strength and gives me the fortitude that I need in that moment, and in the days ahead.