Yes… It’s me. I’m home sick. Too tired and phloem-filled to go to work and too bored out of my skull to watch Adam Richmond gorge himself on another thing on Man v. Food. So here I am. Another sporadic blog from yours truly. I wish I had some life changing thing to share with you, but I don’t. Let me think of things going on in my life that are worth sharing…
Welp, let’s see… the first thing that comes to mind is my dad. About a month and a half ago, I got a call from my mom, that my father had another stroke. This was his second and much worse than the first. I’ll never forget walking into his hospital room for the first time and seeing his face underneath all the tubes, respiratory mask and tape. It wasn’t the man I knew. Not the man with the Irish temper, razor-sharp wit and hop on pop champ. I saw an old man who lay there helplessly as nurses and doctors poked and analyzed what I saw as certain fate. To me, I had already lost my dad. I was filled with sadness and confusion. I no longer felt the need to pray as I knew what was going to happen. I knew my dad was going to die. As I sat in his room watching machines force air down his lungs and pump fluids in his veins, I felt no right to ask God to heal him. I knew how lucky I was in having a father as amazing as him and that he had lived a full life. While the thought of seeing my mom go through this life alone absolutely stabbed me, I knew that my dad’s body would no longer be able to hold the heart I loved so much. I wasn’t mad at God, nor did I trust that He would heal my dad. I just knew whatever happened would happen whether I prayed all night or just sat there. While figuring out how I was going to tell my friends, I could feel something inside of me say more or less “ask for prayer, anyways. Even though you don’t believe, your friends will and that is enough.” This shocked me as I knew it wasn’t something I had thought of. I had already started the grieving process. I texted my friends asking them for prayer for my dad and I immediately was given encouragement, scripture, and hope. I, however, didn’t really feel any of it at the time. The image of my dad’s eyes filling with water as he helplessly seized on the bed was too much for me to have any hope…. but my friends did. I can’t recall the moment when my heart changed, but I can remember how it felt. One second I didn’t believe, and the next second I did. I had decided that the time for crying was finished. I was ready to suit up. I sat by my dad’s bed and tried to take an active part in what was going on. I learned about his medications and what all the numbers meant on various machines. Knowing what was happening helped me to feel not so helpless. By the grace of God alone, I was given hope. I knew He was going to heal my dad. The next few days were somewhat of a blur. I would text friends something that was going on with my dad and within a matter of hours, our prayers would be answered. It started when they took him off respiratory support… and then the feeding tube came out… and then he stopped seizing… and then he started swallowing… and then his heart rate and blood pressure stabilized… and then he sat up… and finally one day I got a call from my mom saying that my father had taken his first step. I still am completely baffled at how quickly my dad healed and what God was able to do when everything pointed to saying goodbye. I know that there is one reason and one reason only why my dad is still enjoying his nightly cups of Earl Gray… because God did it. He didn’t have to, but He did. All credit, glory and wonder goes to God.
So I guess this blog was a bit heavier than originally planned. Oops. But hopefully it offered some faith.
See you in another six months 🙂