Into God's hands...

It happened today. We lost our first patient, Anicette. Hard to say that it happened, hard to believe that it did. Hard to admit it...because somehow in my head, it doesn't quite match up with the hopes of what I came here to do, in my own little way.

"To bring hope and healing..."

Somehow, death doesn't seem to be the answer to that. How does the loss of life equal hope? How does the absence of breath bring healing? Where is the justice in seeing a little baby not grow up due to possible malnutrition? How is that fair?

I know that I didn't know this patient personally. I know that I didn't care for her. But, you could feel the weightiness of the loss as you walked down the corridor of the hospital. As you opened the doors to the wards, through the hesitant smiles on the lips of others, through the red eyes that told of tears flowing.

I know in my heart, that the Lord has this all to His glory. That there is a plan in mind, and that He had a plan for little baby Ani, however short lived it was. But, sometimes...when I think that perhaps something like this could be prevented, even though they've done everything that they could, those words still ring a little dull in my ears. It is all in God's hands. The best place for it to be, right? And, while I don't question the authority of God, I question why this world has to belong to another so that things like this can happen. There has to be another way, right?

But...it's better in God's hands. So, in God's hands the question of, "what are we supposed to do with this?" goes. Into God's hands, the hearts of those who took care of Anicette and her family go. Into God's hands, their grief and mourning goes...for He comforts them.

Into God's hands, little Ani finds her final place of peace.

The best place for her to be.