My sister's holy week

Holy Week is not easy. As we walk with Jesus in the last hours of his life, we encounter darkness and light in strange guises. Jesus takes us where we'd rather not go.

My little sister, Betty, has been in the hospital the last couple of weeks for an infection. It's made worse by the hepatitis she's been living with for twenty years and damaged her liver. She was transported by ambulance to the University Hospital in Denver on Sunday, and our whole family is holding our breath, praying.

Betty told me that she's had some dark moments. "I'm scared," she said. "I'm in a dark hole and I can't find a ladder. I laid here all day and just prayed."

I wish I had magic words to tell her that would make the darkness go away. But I don't. I listen to her as gently as I can and offer my prayers. And I think of Jesus in his last hours. His suffering gives him solidarity with all human suffering, and every person has access to his compassion and love.

Betty is slowly recovering, and I'm hopeful she'll be able to go home in a few days. In the meantime, I take comfort in the knowledge that she's not alone, that Jesus is with her in this holy week.

In peace,
Bill