“The distance just dissolves into the love.”

Four weeks ago today, four bombs exploded in London. Two weeks ago today, four more bombing attempts failed. Today London is on high alert for terrorist activity. According to an online news article I just read, they’ve launched one of the most expensive police campaigns ever. Today.

Grace arrived in London about 12 hours ago. 10:00 AM their time. I’ll be curious to hear about her experience with airport security. She was supposed to meet Luke three hours ago, and if all things have gone according to plan, they are together right now, enjoying one another’s company somewhere in downtown London.

Side note: If I didn’t believe in the power and mercy of God, I couldn’t be a parent.

Tomorrow Luke flies to Ireland for a ten-day jaunt before returning to the U.S. of A. Meanwhile, Grace connects with her pal, Eliza, with whom she’ll spend the next two months gallivanting around the European continent. If you want to follow their adventures, Grace plans to post whenever possible in her journal.

In other news, a couple of weeks ago we received a phone call from Dr. Mary Carlile at Baylor Institute of Rehabilitation. She told us Gwen was in hospice care in the final stages of death by cancer. She had a day left. Maybe two.

Who is Gwen, you ask? Gwen was one of the nurses who cared for Jacob when he was in a coma and medical science held out no hope for his recovery. With gentleness and just the right amount of wit, she took us through the heartbreaking process of signing forms our first day at Baylor. Organ donor forms. Experimental treatment forms. Forms no parent ever wants to be in a position to sign.

Gwen was part of a team that cared for Jacob during a crucial time. Like all the employees on Baylor’s 3rd floor, she faced tragedy and brokenness day after day. And she did it with genuine warmth.

No one at Baylor expected Jacob to recover. He was one of their more severe brain-injury cases. So, when he did (“he did”– what miracles are summed up in those two words!), and we took him back there for a visit, he became a source of great joy and encouragement to the staff. To Gwen.

And now, she was dying. Dr. Carlile thought we should know.

George called Gwen, and her husband answered. When she got on the line, he spoke to her for a few moments, then asked if she’d like to speak to Jacob. At the sound of his voice she wept tears of joy. They conversed briefly until weariness forced her to say good-bye. I love to think that in her final hours Jacob’s voice reminded her how beautiful the work of her hands has been. And still is.

Life is short, even when it’s long. And there are all kinds of destructive forces out there. Terrorists. Cancer. I can’t control those things. But, like Gwen, I can choose to do my little part to make the world more beautiful–one smile or hug or kind word at a time.

♥