I have been reading about the life of Covenanter Patrick Simpson, in an account written by his brother Archibald Simpson.

Going up to the part that told of his death, he caught a simple cold, which in those days, with lack of medical or scienctific understanding we have today, a simple cold could often turn deadly, or into tuberculosis or something.

He had his wife and family around him, and the month he was ill, a stream of visitors in and out of his home to see him, encourage him, lift his spirits. This is a little quote from the relevant section:

“and then he gathered his memory and beagan to spear [look] for my Lady Erskine and her husband, and looked about him, thinking they were coming. We never made any mention of them, fearing it should breed him greater unquietness; for I testify he loved them with an exceeding great love, and rejoiced in her above any mortal person, while we marvelled he should [have] been so transported, and we think he tarried upon her coming.”

I have laid sick and in distress for around a week now, with no one besides my cat, no human hand, and in the midst of it all, I find I have my own Lady Erskine, who I tarry upon her coming. Sometimes, It seems a long time coming, as when in the midst of a furance such as this, we all need someone, we all long for something that can bring relief to our hard days.