Not fragile at all

For me to live is Christ, to die is gain.

Philippians 1:21

Life is fragile.

My lovely dad caught Covid and took a tumble last Friday. He waited a gruelling 12 hours for an ambulance and then we discovered he had broken his hip. He had an op on Monday and against the odds, he is still with us.  

I was with him just before he went into theatre, wondering if we’d see each other again this side of heaven.

91, Covid and a heart problem. None of us were sure that he would pull through. We waited for the call from the recovery unit. The phone rang and it was Dad who said, “I’m alive!”  

It has been an exhausting emotional rollercoaster for us but also a precious time. He and Mum have poured out love on each other and both are holding his life with open hands. Before his op, Dad committed his spirit to the Lord and we read Revelation 22, the promise of heaven together.

Yet here he still is, though I don’t know how much longer we will have him.

Life is fragile. I devotedly take my kefir and my vitamins and maybe gain a day or two but each of us will meet our Maker one day. It’s rare we know when. We didn’t expect to lose Trev. Even billionaires cannot protect themselves and a freak waterspout can tragically steal lives.

Our life here is fragile because our bodies are fragile but when I am with Dad, it is visibly true that although his body is failing, his spirit grows stronger (2 Cor 4:6). He can only whisper but has still been telling the nurses about Jesus.

Life is fragile but the love of God and the promise of heaven is not.