As I came back from feeding the animals, a glorious rainbow streamed out of the clouds, ending in a shaft of light that looked like the legendary pot of gold. The rainbow suddenly faded, leaving only the golden light.
I looked behind me at the setting sun in time to see the dark storm clouds part like the Red Sea and the light burst through.
I thought of my sister-in-law, Jane, and I claimed the rainbow and the light as God's promises for her. She has been in intensive care for over a week, suffering greatly, with the outcome extremely questionable. Herb went to join his other siblings at her bedside on Monday where they have lovingly offered their support all through this difficult week.
Jane's family and friends everywhere are praying for her, as are many people at our church. Their love and care for us reaches out to encompass Jane, whom they have never met. Yet one of our elders prayed for her with tears on Sunday, and many people keep emailing to let us know they are praying, too.
There have been glimmers of hope in the last day or so, particularly as the Palliative Care unit has taken over her pain management. Within the past 12 hours she has finally begun to experience some relief. That is a huge gleam of light in a very dark and stormy time.
I smile a little at the thought of us getting triplets. (No offense to anyone who's ever had real triplets; I would never minimize the amazing job you have done!) But I know the dogs and we will all have many adjustments, almost like three new babies in a family, working them into the canine hierarchy and initiating them into the adventures of farm life. I'm sure there will be days when it's hard or frustrating, but I have a plan for dealing with that: This is for Jane because we love her. These are her babies, and we love them, too.