I have pictures to share, but will save them for tomorrow, or maybe Saturday. Tonight I share what I have been thinking about for a week.

Based on my line of work, I expect to see dramatic things. I do not need to avert my eyes when a bone is being reduced (put back into place after being broken and misaligned), I do not gag with the smell of burned flesh and I do not balk at brain matter on the backboard...these things happen when I work and I have learned to process them and continue in my role. There are times, however, when I have to swallow a lump in my throat...

On Monday night, as soon as I got in to work, I was told I would be taking an ICU patient that was being flown in. The details of the situation were a bit fuzzy and several minutes later, my patient was there and I got the story from the flight nurses.

32 years old

wife and mother

3 young children...ages 7, 5, and 3.

Spontaneous bleeding in her brain was pressing on her brain stem...she would be "brain dead" shortly. There was no intervention to do. Nothing could save her. And she could be me. I am that age. We have the same ages of kids. She was healthy, active, alive several hours ago. How could this happen?

The family was informed of the reality of her prognosis and was in the room shortly after. Her husband stroked her face, sobbing..."our kids need you! you can't die!" The lump in my throat remained...as I hung medication drips, emptied the foley catheter, adjusted the ventilator, charted medications and vital signs. That lump remained.

And as I have processed even that situation, and asked God to teach me through it, I have been reminded in such a real way to make each day matter. We do not know which will be our last. Times like these feel like a gift to me, because I re-evaluate everything. Am I living the life that God created me for? Am I living for His Glory alone? What would I do differently if I knew I would die next week?

I find myself thinking about that family. On a day when I was very tired and sleep deprived, I imagined trying to function in the depths of grief. In that dark pit that would seem unending. I am then thankful that sleep deprivation has a solution. The painful ache of grief does not. I think about those precious kids, who are catapulted into a new world...of having to function without their Mommy. I have cried imagining those are my kids. The pain that they would experience. And then I am brought back to the Truth. That God is all-powerful, all knowing and All Mighty. That He does things in His timing for His Glory. And that He loves us. More than we will ever understand. So whether tomorrow, or in 50 years, if I say I trust God with my life, I better trust Him with my death too.