Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Palliative. When my dad was fighting pancreatic cancer it took me a little while to figure out why we got the big cosy room at the end of the hall with the lovely sofa at the University of Iowa Hospitals. The nurses gently educated us about a new word. Palliative. Dim lights, music. Family. Peace. Angels in the corners.

During that time, I listened to this hymn over and over. Chris Rice's "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" Click it to hear the Youtube music. It's so simple and beautiful. Kris gave me that recording.

So, now, my friend is hearing this word about her Mother, Karen, in the pink and black suit. In the photo she's watching her grandchildren release butterflies as a symbol of resurrection on Easter Sunday, 2011.

Kris loves butterflies--so this is about the best I can offer today.

We remember every spoken word. Every laugh. Every hug and kiss. Every I love you. And somehow in that way that passes our understanding--these times are blessed and etched into eternity.