the buffering wall

My sister made it to my dad's side this afternoon, having quiet moments with him while he drifts in and out of sleep, most often mid sentences. The pain is intense. The pain meds give him terrible nightmares. The lungs fight to breath with so much fluid. The staph infection still being fought. His head is angry cancer, taken over.

My clothes feel heavy. I sat by the fire all 80 degree day that it was, following my updates and reading to the girls about China and grading Math, all the noises of Ben's party horn from school and shouts of sudden laughter from the girls feel deafening, deafening. 

I know Emma didn't suddenly become 50 pounds, nor did my arms suddenly become weak to tote her around, but it just. feels. like. so. much.

Isn't it strange? Grief? Suffering? How even your body keeps the score, how all you want to do is go to sleep and stay there until spring and all this is over.

All these precious kiddos, still worried about beta fish, still struggling with opening cheese, still forgetting to pick up their shoes. They know, they feel it, they are sad...but life carries on and Ben dropped a French fry and they hold lightly the weight of shedding broken bodies for forever souls.

They love Grumpa and they want him to get better, and last they saw him they knew it was gonna take Jesus...and they trust Him.

I want to listen while Lauren tells me about her new teaching placement...I want to meet Stephanie for coffee to hear about work and change, want to sit with Lady Jane and hear about her Bible study. I want to reach out to Jessica and let her known she is seen and loved and cared for, want to catch up from Christmas with Abby and Hannah and Alex and so many more.

But I can only seem to muster everything it takes to get to the carpool line at school and to braid and bandaid and dinner, taking all I've got.  

I should have gone today. I am so anxious to get there before it's too late, I can hardly think about anything else, and yet dread going with all my heart.

I have lived my life till now, O Lord,

with a sense there was a strong, buffering wall

between myself and the risks and uncertainties of life--

for there was always one who had existed before me, 

who loved me from the beginning of my life, who protected me, 

cared for me, and watched over me

a father who raised and nurtured me, who did not

hesitate to sacrifice his own resources for my good,

or to deny his own desires

in order to advance my flourishing.

My parents were such a fount of grace to me, 

echoing so poignantly your own tender, sacrificial love,

O Heavenly Father.

And now.

I must now navigate the rest of life without them--

without their wisdom, encouragement, sympathy and aid, 

and without that ever present sense of stability and safety that their sheltering love

so long provided.

Meet me in this empty space, O Christ. 

Be to me, O God, that which I cannot be to myself

be to me a shelter, guard and guide.

be my strong barricade against the gales of life.

be my shepherd, my counselor, my provider. 

most of all, be to me as a parent,

whose affections for me are displayed in your kindness, compassion, generosity and delight.

Even as I grapple with this loss, o lord,

I thank you for the life of my dad who loved me well

who loved me even admits the many hardships and broken moments of their own life. 

let me take the best of what they embodied and learn to better practice those 

qualities in my own relationships.

Let me honor my dad's many sacrifices for me,

by availing myself ever more intentionally of your mercies and grace, O God,

that I might also become a better lover of your people and your creation.