Thursday morning there was an explosion in an apartment of one of our fellow State Department employees here. It was an accident, it could have happened anywhere. Gas was leaking so she stayed home from work to wait for a service man to arrive. I would have done the same. She was taken to the hospital where my husband met her. He was gone all day and into the night. When my husband came home he slept an hour then got up to get her on an air ambulance where she was taken to another country. My husband returned home only to pack so he could join her there.
My phone has not left my side for the past five days as I await word on how she is doing and how he is handling it. I find myself in a chair praying to God or walking aimlessly crying out to my Lord. I believe my husband is the best person to be there with the patient and family. He is excellent at his job, God has given him instinct in medicine that I don't always understand. But above all, he is a man of compassion. I see God's love in his eyes when he helps someone who is hurting. He is patient in explaining a medical diagnosis. I know that my husband has only survived the past 5 days through God's grace and strength.
This morning I looked at the American flag flying at half-staff in front of the embassy. I thought of the many men and women who have given their lives for our country. I thought of the parents who have lost their children so that we can be free. I looked down at the text coming in. The patient had passed away.
With a heart full of pain, I want to thank these parents for giving up their daughter so she could serve her country.