I’d only been in ICU a week or two when a white box appeared on the porch of our family home. It looked like a fridge.
It was the right size, shape and colour to be a fridge. It had a power cable like a fridge. But if it was as fridge it had seen happier times. Superseded, it was a fridge destined to spend its time in the back corner of a garage somewhere cooling bottles of beer.
Now, though, it had been called out of retirement and offered a new opportunity.
The fridge, when delivered, stood empty on the porch. Strangely though, within hours food appeared in the fridge. This would happen time and time again. Sue, Max and Zac would empty the fridge and, miraculously, food would appear again. And it wasn’t just any food that appeared. What appeared were meals carefully and lovingly created, ready to eat that night.
In those early weeks and months, Sue and the boys started to get a routine back together. The boys had to get back to school and study. Sue needed to keep the business running. On top of this were the daily visits to the hospital. The meals in the fridge meant that Sue was relieved from a lot of the shopping. And, of course, relieved of time spent preparing meals. It also meant that each night the three of them sat down together to an appetising meal that nourished their bodies and fortified their spirits.
In time the fridge disappeared, its work done. It went back to its other noble occupation, in the back of the garage.
The fridge may be gone but it’s magic lingers. On the porch, it was not only a holding station for those meals. Every day it shouted “We care!” And that shout continues to this day. What a fridge! What people! What friends!!