Goodbye my friend.

Life is ironic I tell you. Yesterday morning was the start of my final day of orientation at the hospital. At the end of the 8 hours, my hands were anointed with oil and prayed over. According to the precious tradition of the hospital, of which I am now employed, they like to bless the hands of each employee to do the healing work of Jesus.

Yesterday night, I received a phone call from the lady I had given my horses to. She told me that my gelding (boy horse) was not doing well, and that I could come and say goodbye if I wanted to. I left church with cheeks plagued with tears and drove to see him. I was in my new favorite dress when I said goodbye. I laid my newly anointed hands on his body and his head and kissed him goodbye for the last time. This was one life with which my hands could not heal. But I think I'm okay with that. I'm not good at saying goodbye.