My grandma, Nini, always told me ‘bad things come in threes.’
Throughout my life, I’ve seen the truth of those words. Just this week, I’m reeling from the news of three different crises.
The friend of a work colleague, and one of our customers, was in a horrific motorcycle accident yesterday. He and a utility truck collided going fifty-five miles an hour. He was life-flighted to the hospital where he was put into a medically-induced coma. He will likely lose one of his eyes and possibly one leg.
My good friend’s mom is still hospitalized with bedsores. One sore is so bad, it goes all the way to the bone. Her body isn’t producing enough antibodies to heal, and she’s had C-diff twice. I won’t go into what C-diff is, you can Google it.
Another friend’s husband took a bad fall down a ravine while camping with his grandkids. Although the bruises have faded, he was just rushed to the hospital with some very bad bacteria in the head wound. If he doesn’t get immediate treatment, it could turn into septicemia, which is what killed my brother.
Enough! There’s my three bad things.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could stop tragedy just by saying those words? If only . . .
I remember when my son passed away and life’s curve balls kept hitting me squarely between my eyes.
- My dad died.
- Five weeks later, my son died.
- On the day we returned from my son’s funeral, we were served papers. We were being sued.
- Hubby lost his job.
If you’ve read the story of Job in the Bible, you may know I was expecting painful boils and for my friends to tell us to ‘curse God and die.’
We didn’t. And guess what? We emerged on the other side stronger. There is hope in suffering, joy after loss, and sometimes a bit of humor in the darkest of times. Really.
Want to know more? Check out either of my books:
Because of Grace – the story for mothers who have lost a child
The Caregiving Season – finding grace to care for an aging parent
Jane S. Daly is the author of two nonfiction books and five novels.
Jane is addicted to coffee, purple pens, and her husband, not necessarily in that order. A self-proclaimed introvert, she enjoys the solitude of riding shotgun in Rigsby, her 37-foot motor home. But when they pull into a new campground, her favorite thing is to make new friends and find hangouts featuring local musicians. Her fantasy involves writing lyrics for country music songs and hearing them played on the radio. In the meantime, she’ll stick to writing novels. And seeing as much of the country as possible.