A short story from the book "Choices"
A family had a baby with a terrible breathing problem and he had to be kept in a respirator to stay alive. But he was born with several other handicaps besides, so that even with a respirator he could not survive for long. How long would he live at the hospital? Nobody knew for sure. Maybe eight months? How long could he live at home? Nobody knew for sure. Maybe a month, or less.
How would he live and die at home? Bathed in love. Touched and talked to. Wept over with tears of infinite care. And cradled in the bosom of family.
How would he die at home? In the presence of those to whom he was tied by the invisible bonds of family love. Given back to God by the mother and father who brought him to life. Before the eyes of a brother and sister who would forever after remember what it was like to love a dying baby brother. And who could ever know for sure what it meant to a newborn baby to die in its mother's arms?
How would he live and die at the hospital? Surrounded by caring professionals. But strangers in white gowns who stayed for a shift and then went home to their own. He would die tied to wires and tubes, hooked to machines. Kept alive a little longer by the best technology available. But dying anyway, only a little later.
The family chose to take their baby home, to let their other two children share in loving and caring for a brother who was born to live long enough to give his family a chance to love him with the passion of someone who knows he can love only for a little while. More, the parents chose to give their baby a chance to live for the precious little while given him in the place where every baby belongs, in the heart of a family.
He died in a circle of abounding love three weeks later.
Was it a choice between right and wrong? I don't think so. It was more like a choice between two right courses, one which may have been more appropriate than the other. A choice for what best fit the needs of the people whose lives were so deeply touched by it.
This story reminds me of the show "A walk to remember". It's not how long you live that matters most, it's how you live your life, how you touch those around you that matters. God bless=)
How would he live and die at home? Bathed in love. Touched and talked to. Wept over with tears of infinite care. And cradled in the bosom of family.
How would he die at home? In the presence of those to whom he was tied by the invisible bonds of family love. Given back to God by the mother and father who brought him to life. Before the eyes of a brother and sister who would forever after remember what it was like to love a dying baby brother. And who could ever know for sure what it meant to a newborn baby to die in its mother's arms?
How would he live and die at the hospital? Surrounded by caring professionals. But strangers in white gowns who stayed for a shift and then went home to their own. He would die tied to wires and tubes, hooked to machines. Kept alive a little longer by the best technology available. But dying anyway, only a little later.
The family chose to take their baby home, to let their other two children share in loving and caring for a brother who was born to live long enough to give his family a chance to love him with the passion of someone who knows he can love only for a little while. More, the parents chose to give their baby a chance to live for the precious little while given him in the place where every baby belongs, in the heart of a family.
He died in a circle of abounding love three weeks later.
Was it a choice between right and wrong? I don't think so. It was more like a choice between two right courses, one which may have been more appropriate than the other. A choice for what best fit the needs of the people whose lives were so deeply touched by it.
This story reminds me of the show "A walk to remember". It's not how long you live that matters most, it's how you live your life, how you touch those around you that matters. God bless=)
posted by SHIRLEY at 9:39 AM
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