bridge building

Every night, Matt takes Nora and Ben to bed while I do devotions and bedtime with the big girls and Emma. He sits in their chair and reads and prays and plays guitar, and stays with them 'till they sleep...precious time with Dad and just two.

Tonight I sat with them instead, Nora on the top and Ben underneath, reading Happy Times in Noisy Village when Matt called from Dad's bedside.

Dad and Cindy, Lisa and Adam, Matt and I all on the line, Dad's voice was surprisingly strong as we all talked about hospice and football, funeral arrangements and pizza, the difference between giving up and giving well. 

No one will ever say that you came up before you hit the wall, Dad, Lisa said, the only time I almost lost it.

Matt is the right person in the right place at the right time, not only taking advantage of a rare good moment like tonight to call us all and bring us all together, but also to take turns with Cindy, to shoulder the burden, to fill the spaces with prayer, to help think through all the details, to help with family and friends coming and going, to help with phone calls...I'm just so so thankful he is there.

I don't need to know why we're all going through this. The Lord cares for us each and everywhere I look for Him, He can be seen.  Look for Him, dear ones.

My dad has invested in so many.  He's been a bridge-builder all his life, both at work and at home...finding a way alongside for people who lost their way to find it, finding a way to bring together people on opposite sides, finding a way to point us to Jesus in every circumstance. 

Not everything is the way I know my dad wishes it was, especially with my brother living so far from Him...But I love that perfect peace and complete joy and total healing and unfaltering trust are about to be his. I love that the Lord isn't done when Dad is. And I love that I can trust Him with the father who has pointed to the Father all my life.

Being surrounded by children when facing death isn't bad company.  

They keep my hurting heart busy and my shaky hands occupied, yes, but more, they trust so unwaveringly, their questions and thoughts about heaven have been so precious, their willingness to give Grumpa up to Jesus so he isn't hurting anymore...so sacred. 

All six of them have in their minds a very glad fellowship of many they love, all at the foot of Jesus...they have it painted so merrily and peacefully that by the end of every conversation, they are aching to go to heaven with Grumpa (even if one little boy is sure "the presence of Jesus" are gifts of nerf guns and toys wrapped in bright paper), and that points me true.

Whether I live another day
or may decades more,
there is only one way all of this will end,
and that is with me in your arms, O Father,
joyful and utterly whole, 
pressing even further 
for all eternity into your
beauty, wisdom,
love and delight.