For Emma

It is almost nine years since my good friend Gladys died. As I type this, her little Bakelite Box is on the desk beside me. I said in the post I wrote back then just how proud she was of her family. Here's that family now.

Her granddaughter Emma has just finished all her training as a doctor. 
I have watched Emma grow up - being a Supply Teacher for her class in primary school, making crafts at Holiday Club with her, then having her working alongside me in various church activities.
She is bright, and witty and generous and kind. She has always had a caring nature, patient with all generations - both fussy little children and nervous older folk. It is a privilege to count her [and her parents] amongst my friends.
But this is not how it was meant to be - the years of study have all come to a rather abrupt end, and she is waiting to see where she is needed. Everyone knows that medical training is extremely hard work, with long hours - and at the end of it, there is meant to be a moment to celebrate and have fun with friends, before going off to work in a world of sickness and pain. 
Her parents have loved and supported her through all these years, and I know they are rightly proud of their daughter and her achievements. But it must be hard for them not to feel anxious about the genuinely dangerous world in which she finds herself working now. 
It is right that we acknowledge all our NHS staff right now, and thank God for the sacrifices they are making.
But this morning I specially want to think of Emma, and all her young friends who are beginning their careers in a way nobody could have envisaged a few months ago. And also remember their families who are anxious for them.  
Keep well, keep safe, Emma...and thank you.