I am looking out of our corner suite and watching the sky turn from black, to blue and finally to an orange glow in the east.  Morning is coming and we are still sitting here waiting for Thomas’ gut to wake up.  It has been sleeping for a long time and is certainly not responsive to the sunrise, unlike my little baby who is sitting right beside me keeping me company.

Thomas continues to do everything he can to help things along but so far, his insides are not responding.  We spent Sunday walking the halls with him, serving broth and juice to him and reading Louis Lamour.  The doctors keep saying his gut will eventually wake up and do its job.  I feel a bit like a woman in labor; I am waiting and waiting and the whole thing would be much easier to bear if I just knew when it was going to end.  Listen to me!  I am not even the one who is sick!!!

When I was a girl, my mom listened to Elizabeth Elliot’s radio program.  Each program ended with her saying, in her low, warm voice, “… and underneath are the Everlasting Arms.”  That refrain has come back to me again and again through different times of struggle.  When all has fallen from beneath us, underneath are the Everlasting Arms.

Emily, for all the Maedas

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