Moments

Not understanding the words that are coming out of your mouth.  That brain was bumped a little too hard.  No idea what was going to happen that day, then all of the sudden, pain, tubes, ventilator, no memory, no sense.  Everything's changed.
Imagine this is you.  Sometimes it's hard to insert yourself in a situation like this and sometimes it's not.  I avoided the room all night.  Too close to me.  This could be my best friend, this could be me.  In an instant.  You never know what is going to happen in the process of a day, an hour, an instant.  You take your eyes off the road for an instant to finish a text or mess with the radio and BAM.  It's done.  For you.  For someone else.
This life we are given is fragile.  I've talked about it before, but until you've wiped the sweaty, matted hairs of this fragile life back into place, it doesn't make any sense to you.  Until you've looked death in the face you won't understand.  I don't understand it.  I've never been in that position.  But I've seen people looking death in the face several times.  I've seen them giving up, waiting for the sweet release.  Others, fighting against the pull, fighting for air, for life.
I realized that night, I couldn't be a nurse without my faith.  It's what I fall back on when I don't understand.  It's what I fall back on when I do.  My faith is what I do understand, even though at times I question it.  I question why this life is so fragile and why he does the things he does.
Nights like this, I'm ever so thankful for my faith.