What a sweet name. And what a sweet, sweet little lady. I have been avoiding this blog for 2 weeks because I knew I could not post one single thing on our family "scrapbook" here until I talked about Miss Bridget who died in a tragic car accident Thursday, August 19th. Somehow it strangely makes it real rather than a terrible dream.
I knew Bridget for 9 years...since she was 15 and I was her K-life small group leader in Kirksville, MO. What a pleasure I was given in watching her grow up into womanhood. She came to St. Louis to go to nursing school and we got to see her quite frequently then because she didn't have a washer and dryer :). I treasure those times of hanging out in my living room with her while clothes washed and she folded. Inevitably she would need to leave and feel so bad that she was leaving a load of laundry behind, but it was just a great excuse to see her again the next day to pick it up. She lived with us for a few weeks when she was in between housing and eventually she graduated and continued to be a nurse at Children's Hospital. And when I say nurse, I really mean top of the line, best nurse of the year. How do we know? Well, in the Lord's sweet provision, when Weston was 9 days old and admitted to the hospital from the ER we were being escorted up to his floor and the nurse said on the elevator, "I think you may know your son's nurse...her name is Bridget." I just started sobbing. She greeted us and was, of course, the best nurse/friend/encourager/advocate we could have asked for. She loved kids and I'll never forget the warmth and love she showered on our own little ones. The last time I saw her was when she came over to meet Lily. She brought her a huge bag of the cutest little clothes and held her the whole time she was here. I picture her now with Lily in our leather chair, talking to me and alternating between rubbing Lily's little feet and her head. I was worried about Lily having a stuffy nose and she reassured me that she was breathing just fine.
I could go on and on about memories of Bridget. But all of them come back to a girl with a sweet, generous, loving, enthusiastic, happy spirit. Her smile and laugh will be etched in my mind forever. God used her life to touch a mass of His people. I am so proud of her. So, so proud of her.
After getting off the phone, Weston saw me crying and asked what was wrong. We had the following conversation:
Me: "Well buddy, mommy is really sad about Miss Bridget's boo-boo's that we prayed about last night."
Weston: "Where IS Bridget?"
Me: "Well, Miss Bridget is with Jesus in Heaven."
Weston: (pause, thinking)"Miss Bridget is at home far, far away."
Welcome Home sweet girl. I wish you were here, but I'll see you there.
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Beth, this is so sweet. I didn't know Bridget, but this post captured her in a very special way and sent tears down my face. The end of your post made me think of one of my favorite poems, "Go Down Death" by James Weldon Johnson. I'm going to share a little bit of it, but I encourage you to read it in its entirety. This is the end of the poem when Death brings "Sister Caroline" home to the Lord:
ReplyDelete"And there he laid Sister Caroline
On the loving breast of Jesus.
And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away her tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from her face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked her in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.
Weep not--weep not,
She is not dead;
She's resting in the bosom of Jesus."