"In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste. He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye." from Deuteronomy 32. As Geoff's grandpa gets closer to death, our reactions have woven in and out of coping. One moment the thought of it is so grave and so stark then another moment it is back to our own mundane rhythm here, school, house, church. Talking with a dear friend today, she mentioned having an affinity with the geriatric set. If there's one thing I know, it's that, generally speaking, I do not have an affinity with them. I am really uncomfortable with medication, with hospitals, with sanitized settings, with convalescence, honestly. A different friend who's a nurse was saying how she went to a talk by a woman who was once a midwife and who now works in hospice care, or as I'm learning, end of life care. The talk was about how similar death is to birth. When put this way, I get it. I want to care for Grandpa the way I was cared for in my births. I wanted tender encouragement. I wanted support that I was making good decisions. I wanted physical comfort but I didn't want to shrink away from what was happening. I wanted to move with the process but not be hurried. I wanted to pass from one thing to the next with dignity and awareness. I wanted to breathe in the warmth of my loved ones. I want all of this for Grandpa. I want him to be found, to be shielded, cared for and guarded as the apple of God's eye. Barren and howling as death seems.