On Saturday night I was in the hospital with a family as their loved one took his final breath. It’s not the first time I’ve been in a room with someone as their life here ends. And I’m certain it won’t be the last time. I feel blessed to be able to do this.
Before you think I sound morbid, hear me out on this.
I feel blessed to have had some valuable training for this. Long before I became a pastor (a “doctor” of the spirit) I was studying to be a medical doctor (a doctor of the body). I’m so grateful that I received enough training to be prepared for these settings.
I feel blessed to be there for the grieving family. When the emotions are so raw and the pain so deep, I’m grateful that God places me in a position to truly be a minister to hurting people.
I feel blessed to be reminded of the shortness and preciousness of life. It reminds me that life is fragile and short. It reminds me to hug more often, express love more frequently, and not take any time with my loved ones for granted.
Being in the hospital room as someone passes from this life is not an easy thing. But I wouldn’t trade the blessing of being a pastor for anything.