The phone rang. I was rushing around, trying to be ready to leave when my ride came.
It was someone I did not know, and they wanted me to take a message to our neighbors who have no phone: the father of the family was coming home from the hospital.
My taking the time to run over and tell the shy teen who answered the door was paid in full by her eyes lighting up in pure joy hearing that her dad would be home in a few hours.
Yesterday we learned more.
This father of 11 children (or is it now 12?), has lung cancer; they sent him home, and the prognosis does not sound good.
Henry, a bishop in his Amish church, is a kind and gentle man and always polite.
His wife Sarah, a sweet, cheerful woman, gave birth to another welcomed child not so long ago; the oldest child must still be in his early 20's.
This is the same family whose house burned a few years ago.
I went over after calling the fire department and found the children standing outside, quietly watching their house burn while the firemen drove through the fields and lanes to get there--when I had called 911, we did not know if the baby had been gotten out of the house in time or not; the the firemen came with real purpose.
The baby was safe.
Mom and dad were visiting with family.
As quickly as I could, I bundled them into my car and took them to the home of their relatives--I could not imagine what horrors were going through their minds as they stood there watching, and I did my best to take them quickly to tender, loving arms who could wipe their tears and comfort them.
And now they need comfort again in a very real way.
When you think of them in the coming weeks, will you pray for them?
Thank you.
