The Brimming Edge

Bending down I touch her arm.

She holds her gaze towards her baby

In the hospital bed.

What can I do? I ask.

I’m OK she says.

I believe it.

She’s had to be.

How else could she have taken care of

Her baby

For all these decades.

Now her child is slipping away breath by breath

While she waits

Sitting in perfect posture in the straight back chair

In her little suit.

Stalwart.

Full of prayer and trust

In her God.

Not just God but her God.

Through all the years of suffering and trial

She has become familiar with God.

With a groan I push myself up from a squatting position.

I speak a short prayer,

And she whispers “in the name of Jesus” throughout my little words.

I’m self-centered enough

And insecure enough

To wonder if this little, old saint

Knows how shallow I am.

Regardless, 
I am with her,

With her grown baby,  

With the presence of God

At this brimming edge of loss.

by Candace K Hardin