The Only Hope

Almeda looked great today.  She was bright.  Her eyes were alert.  Her fingernails were painted in a bright red shade which matched her knitted sweater.  She was having a good day “except for shaking a little bit,” as she told me.  Good days are not always the norm for Almeda, who is stricken with advanced Alzheimer’s.  Some days she is despondent; sometimes even angry or depressed.  Today was good, until I had to tell her that her great grandchild–only two months old–had died in his sleep.  He ate, went to sleep, and never woke up.  It was grievous to watch Almeda enjoying a good day, only to have it ruined by such devastating news.  She wept and wept more.  She grabbed my hand and said, “I’m going to be OK.”  Some of the tears fell from her nose; others crossed over her lips.  Clearly, she was stricken with grief.  As a Christian, she was grieving.  I say as a Christian because Almeda still has hope–hope that death has not spoken the final word–hope that life, in fact, will still have its say.  At times like these, no religion will do; no political victory will satisfy.  The only hope adequate for days like today is the hope of Jesus Christ, his death and resurrection.  Praise God! He sent to us one who is the resurrection and the life.