Teach us to number our days aright

It has been a series of unfortunate and bizarre events for some at my workplace, lately. Two of my staff experienced loss of loved ones in the same week. Then a close friend met with an accident (thank God, left unharmed though vehicle quite badly damaged) and his wife was admitted in hospital a few days later for asthmatic attack. Another staff had a complicated, first time pregnancy, whereby a fibroid and the child were growing at the same rate, and an operation was too risky. All of a sudden she has a natural delivery being only 6 months due, and her premature child is only 600 grams. The turn of events is all so unexpected.

I’ve been learning how to deal with occurrences like this – being in Management, it’s part of my responsibility to be a representative at the funeral and in the hospital, just as when attending joyous occasions and functions. When I first started on this job and had to attend a funeral, I would start getting all worried. Not that I didn’t sympathize with the family or didn’t want to go (I really did), but because I couldn’t bear to see that face I knew crying in grief. I feared not knowing the words to say, or what to do in an unfamiliar place and crowd during such a depressing period. Furthermore, being the odd one out in such occasions, culture was also an element that intimidated me. I’m also usually the rose among the thorns, so I would have to sit elsewhere while the guys in another corner. I would always make sure I followed the lead of some older person, and just sit quietly, and talk if others speak.

Being in moments of silence can feel like forever, and it makes you reflect upon the brevity of life. To do what you can and have to do in the time that is given to you, is in fact, the only chance you’ve got. Some faiths profess reincarnation, but being a Christian, one life is all you’ve got. Sitting there in the midst of sorrow, you know that life goes on for the bereaved, but it will never be the same. It is heart wrenching to hear little ones say their father is sleeping, or that their mother has gone far away as they run around playing; oblivious to the painful truth of death. Sitting there in silence is the only thing I could do.

I never thought much of my silent presence, until my bereaved staff made it a point to come up and say ‘thank you’; trying to put up a strong front, fighting back the tears while the casket was taken away, as I was disappearing among the crowd. It made me realize that no words can ever take away the sadness of loss, but just being there shows you care.

In the hospitals for less serious incidents, it is a whole lot easier to deal with emotionally. Just taking the time to cheer them up a little actually means a lot. A trip to the hospital also reminds me that we are not super humans who will always be full control, or have life our way all the time. Accidents may happen and sicknesses may leave us dependent upon someone else’s strength – whatever age. Some things in life are not for us to choose.

At the end of the day, it’s all about making the best out of what is given to us. It doesn’t matter how long we live, but how well we have lived. It weighs down to fulfilling God’s purpose in our generation - what we leave behind for others, for we take nothing with us. It is how much we have loved.

Ecclesiastes 7:2 (New Living Translation)
Better to spend your time at funerals than at parties. After all, everyone dies—so the living should take this to heart.

Psalm 90:12 (New Living Translation)
Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.