A week ago tonight Matt was frantically driving to Florida, trying to get there before Dad passed away...and tonight he is still propping up his pillows, trying to help him breath comfortably, rubbing his back from bedsores, checking on him throughout the night.
It's a weird hard thing, death. Sometimes you have no warning and no goodbyes and you're breathless with a slew of heavy regrets and wishes and shock...and then sometimes you say all your things and redeem all your regrets and watch and wait for death to come, dreading the aching loss, anxious for their relief from sorrow and pain, waiting and wondering what you're supposed to be wanting and how you're supposed to be praying.
I often still struggle with how I'm supposed to feel, or what I'm supposed to do...but I rarely struggle with how I'm supposed to pray. Prayer is the one place I have found myself totally free from expectation...from the fear of hurting or offending others...from the concern of saying it right or carefully or well...from concern of how my thoughts might negatively affect the hearer.
My rants are safe on Him. My complaints, His to bear or rebuke...my thoughts, free at His feet, and His love for me unaltered, unchanging. He hears and knows just what to say...He speaks and knows how to help me listen.
So I ask Him what I'm supposed to be praying for my dad right now, and it's always just peace...and to trust Him. So I do and I do.
Matt's chance to be Jesus to Dad until Jesus takes over brings me such peace. Checking on him every hour...sitting with him when he can't sleep, adjusting his pillows when he can't breath, watching over him so Cindy can sleep or go to dinner with her parents, trusting one another with each other's pain...I am so thankful for Matt able to be there, much as we miss him. They have had so many quiet, hilarious, hard, painful, sweet moments, and Dad's at peace.
And here. Here-ish.
And yet.
How much I already miss the ability to just call him, hear his confident, upbeat voice, "mmmYello! How 'ya doing babe?"...to share with him all the goings...to laugh and roll my eyes at his, "here's what you need to do is..."
I missed calling him this week when the garbage disposal stopped working and the water wouldn't drain...I've never googled anything I didn't call Dad about first (and he never didn't know how to fix it!) I miss him asking about all the little things he always asked about.
I miss him, my dad.
I'm never gonna stop missing him until I join him, and that's a hard pill to swallow.
Hospice comes in every day. Matt still drains his lungs daily...does the meds. He is in more manageable pain, sleeping a lot more, not eating or battling to anymore, made all his phone calls, talked out all his details, still likes to talk them through, and sometimes wakes up and out of nowhere asks Matt, "What's going on in the world?" or "Who do you think is going to the SuperBowl?" or "When is Nora's surgery again?"
Life carries on as we wait for him to be healed or be healed. I had zoom OMS USA board meetings today and was once again challenged, inspired, and passionate about what God is doing in the world and in and through OMS...and signed up to go as full-time missionary to at least 11 foreign fields. Just like last board meeting.
Matt knows when I'm in these meetings that he's gonna get texts about moving to Thailand and today was no exception.
The kiddos are all off to their Friday programs or school tomorrow, and I have one more morning of meetings, and then the whole weekend for youth group, Saturday morning Bible study, church, family dinner, and to prep for Nora's surgery Monday and a crazy day of kid shuttling/covering.
Every night the kids and I thank the Lord for the people who helped us that day, and every day since Matt left there has been someone. Days like today, Hannah took the girls to school, Beth helped do school this morning when I was in meetings, Hannah this afternoon, Dawn did Thursday night date night so I could take Lily (and Emma) out for quality time, and Betsy brought dinner! I mean...what would I be doing with
out such thoughtful, sacrificial sisters? The peace I pray for comes from those surrounding us with love as well.
I read somewhere yesterday that "If it isn't GOOD, the Lord's not done yet" and the more I think about that, the more I see that simple statement to be true.
This awful cancer death has been so far from good...and indeed He is not done. When my dad goes, it will be good for him (the Lord will be done working in my dad's life here on earth) and it will NOT be good for those of us left behind, and indeed, the Lord will NOT be done working on and in us even when dad is.
What IS good and complete is His great love for us, His children. So I'll cling to that. And take our days. And pray without ceasing.
That's a good word. If it's not good, God's not done with it. -RS
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