In the last few days, my husband, Will, and I have been writing a letter-to-the-editor. In one of the medical journals to which he subscribes an article recently appeared which attempts to justify physician-assisted suicide, and of all things makes the patently absurd argument that it is in the interest of patient autonomy. Helping someone kill themselves advances their autonomy? Do words mean anything anymore?
It’s a rainy and gloomy day here in Washington. A day that seems appropriate in some way for a funeral, and in fact one is being held this morning at my church. The sweet girl who passed away, Amy, was only forty years old, and she was diagnosed with cancer just last spring. I knew her more as an acquaintance, a friend of a friend, but what an impression she made! Her contagious joy was evident, and her service to the God she loved well-known. She went on many mission trips, serving and caring for people around the globe. I find it utterly perplexing that it was not God’s will for Amy to have some last-minute healing. He is Sovereign. He has a plan and it is good. But it is still beyond my understanding. I can trust Him and find His plan perplexing at the same time, and I do.
About a week ago Will and I took the boys to Theodore Roosevelt Island — a great place to let our yardless boys run around and gain a couple tidbits of history at the same time. If you’ve never been, it is literally a little island in the Potomac, closer to the Virginia side than DC, but almost directly in front of the Kennedy Center. There is a foot bridge onto the Island and then in the center, where there is a clearing of trees, there is a rather large statue of Roosevelt and tall stone tablets engraved with some of his quotes. It is simple and charming, and we hadn’t been there in years and years. This photograph isn’t exactly an Ansel Adams, but it did help me remember to blog about this quote. And I love this quote.
My last post was about what we need most, so this week it seems natural to talk about who we need most. Obviously, each person needs a family that loves them. In my experience, as a parent of three boys, and as a child myself, the father role is exceedingly important. I could read to my boys, take them to the park, buy them new toys, feed them their favorite foods, and play games with them all day long, but none of this compares to five minutes of football with Daddy. Although it should be noted that Saturday’s football fun resulted in a single stitch for Nate’s chin, and guess who got to take him to the ER? And when my dad was alive his approval was of great importance to me. I wanted to make him proud in way that did not and does not apply to my mom. Maybe that just indicates the security I have of her undying love, I don’t know for sure. I just know there is something special about daddies and all the statistics about the fatherless are heartbreaking.