There are no words as I stand in vigil with so great a cloud of witnesses over the deepening pain of the Ben Towne family. The hope-filled post of October 20th documented 3-year-old Ben's journey of six rounds of chemotherapy, surgery to remove a tumor, stem cell transplant, twelve sessions of radiation, twelve antibody infusions, and six courses of oral meds since August 17, 2007. We all collectively held our breaths in prayer for a complete remission. Yet it appears this is not to be.
I have no answers. Only pain for this young family that has been through so much and yet still has more pain to come. In trying to come to terms with my own grief, I come again to the powerful words of Brahms Requiem, Movement 3, English translation, from Psalms 39:4:
Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an hand breadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee. Surely every man walks in a vain show: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heaps up riches, and knows not who shall gather them. And now, Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in thee. The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God and there shall no torment touch them.
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