A year ago I wrote of the impending death of my dear friend, Margareta Ferguson. ('The Last Mile') Somewhat embarrassingly, and to my joy, Margareta recovered. Not completely, but well enough to do many of the things she wanted to do, and to prepare herself for her final journey. Not that anyone CAN truly do so: If any event may be described as 'a leap in the dark,' this is it.
Also for Margareta, a leap of faith.
Last Friday, Loarne, her son called me to say. "Come now, if you want to say goodbye." I went. My friend was unconscious and her breathing was laboured. I held her awkwardly in my arms, and sang the psalm I had promised her for her last hours:
"How lovely is your dwelling place
Oh Lord of Hosts
My soul longs and yearns for your courts
And my heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God ... "
A final hug and my last prayer for her:
"Lord now lettest Thou thy servant depart in peace ... "
I left her then, in safer hands than mine.