all at once

I have been so grateful that our time with dad was when it was....as it was...how it was.  The Lord gave us such a great gift in those days with Dad, and my broken heart felt so full coming home.  I had nothing left to say or do...I said it, I did it, it was good.

And then I woke up the next day, and just felt so sad.

Have you ever been there? The Lord's been good and faithful and loving and kind, and yet your emotions struggle to get behind your brain?

Good friends, sweet and lively children, blessings far beyond what I merit, all my hopes set on healing and heaven for my Dad...and yet.  I have felt so deeply sad these past few days, just hurting deep in my bones,  because I have missed my mom for 20 years, and I don't want to miss my dad. Because my children have missed my mom their whole lives, and I don't want them to miss Grumpa. Sad because sickness and dying is all so gut-wrenching, even when I know this will one day be a distant memory and that He will abundantly add back all that has been lost. 

And then today it took our breath away.

Long story short, Dad called at 3, and Matt came home quickly at 3:15 and packed a bag, and got on the road, still now making the 11 hour drive to Dads. Despite doing a bit better, suddenly today everything took a steep dive.  Don't know if Matt will get there in time. Don't know if he'll rally or fade. Don't know what caused the massive shift this afternoon, or what is happening. 

I know kiddos still hungry, and drama at school still has them furrowed.  Ben still lost his mind at dinner over orange juice, Nora still cried at bedtime because Daddy isn't here, Aunt Lisa and I still talked six times and cried and cried some more. Lunches still needed packed. Floor still dirty.

Sitting with mom as her brain bled was easier than 750 miles away with seven sweet kiddos.

I have nothing left to say or do, so I pray.

And I don't have any word prayers, so I just picture my dad's bony frame lying in bed, and that dark little room so packed full of His presence that it glows, glows like that sky above those shepherds, glows like the heavens that know no shadows.  I pray Dad's busted up body is so overcome by the Father that peace fills his very failing veins, his very heart, his very mind. I just close my eyes tanpri that Dad's life poured out and done unto Him is met now with unspeakable, pure, simple joy. 

I picture-beg that God will use Matt in the middle of death and tears and heartbreak to be life and hope and peace, calm in the storm. I pray the children will see in mama godly mourning and His grace upon grace. 

And I envision all of us sitting with him on our blankets of wordless prayers.

I am grateful-thankful-breaking-bleeding, and I guess you can be all that at once. 

Jesus understands all that at once. 

Let me learn, O Lord,

What it is to live so open to life and hope

that I might weep and rejoice

in the same breath

without contradiction.

Douglas Kaine McKelvey

***Update, Matt arrived safely at 2:30 am and this morning is taking dad to the hospital today to drain the mounting fluid from his lungs