Sometimes things flow along rather smoothly. Sure, there are a few bumps along the way (we have six kids after all) but nothing too out of the ordinary. And then things get turned upside down and inside out.
Last week I received a bit of news.
A rough bit.
I found out my father has brain cancer – lymphoma – though now they aren’t too sure what it is and are doing more tests. What they do know for sure is that he has lesions on the front and back of his brain – and it came on fast in the last month and a half (or at least, that’s when the symptoms showed up).
My dad is an amazing man. Has always been active and healthy. He taught me to love hiking and nature. He taught me to be and do my best. He has the wackiest sense of humor – the kind where some people can’t tell if he’s joking, but there’s a twinkle in his eye, and he makes the craziest goofy faces.
I never thought about how old he was getting (he’s 74, after all) and how he was slowing down. He always seemed invincible to me, like he would live forever. But I feel my time with him here on earth slipping away between my grasping fingers.
Maybe I have many years yet to come, I choose to hope for the best. But, in case the time is short, I am going to visit. I’ve only seen him one day in these past 3 1/2 years – because of their mission and our move – and it’s been too long. I am so blessed to have such a supportive husband and family to allow me to take off for a while to be with my parents.
I’ll try my best to blog while I’m gone, but I might not have much time. I’ll be hanging with my most amazing parents and visiting amazing old friends too. I plan on having a blast.
But, all while I’m having a grand time, I’ll be praying. Praying for my dad. If you don’t mind sending a prayer our way, it would be so appreciated. And if you aren’t the praying type, good thoughts and wishes work well too. We can feel the support from everyone around us.
And I believe in miracles.
We were walking down a stair case, Paul, Jacob and I, some ways up from the ground. Faces were all around us, recognizable, and yet, somehow lost in shadow. The stair rail running beside us was tall with broad blue slats placed too far apart. Far enough apart for a young child to slip through. Someone had thought of this though, and there was some wire mesh going about half way up, leaving a gap between the mesh and the top rail.
I don’t remember how it happened, I just remember a scream ripping from my chest as I saw Jacob plummet over the side. “Call 911,” I yelled at a nameless face as Paul and I hurtled ourselves down the long staircase, afraid of what we would find at the bottom. We couldn’t run fast enough, it seemed as though our legs churned in slow motion as my heart threatened to beat its way up my throat and out of my body. I felt sick with fear; absolute nameless terror; so much so that I could hardly breathe. We rounded the last corner and there he was. Laying crumpled on the floor. With a sob I rushed forward, stopping short of his still form, not daring to touch him for fear of doing him more injury. “Where is the ambulence?” I cried. Some how I knew that miraculously he would be fine. He always came out fighting, he had a purpose here that God wanted him to do, he wouldn’t be taken from us yet.
Sirens filled my head and I was surrounded by paramedics rushing here and there and we were transported to the hospital. He was alive. All were amazed. He had a terrible concussion, but he was alive. “No one should have survived that fall,” they told me shaking their heads in awe. I was told that during all the tests they had performed they had found some additional minor problems with his heart, nothing too serious they told me…
With a start I sat bolt upright in bed, trying to figure out where I was and what was happening. Paul was sleeping soundly beside me, low snores eminating from his half open mouth. I could hear Jacob breathing softly in his room over the monitor. Choking back terrified tears I snuggled close to my husband clasping his hand. I didn’t want to wake him. Not now, that would almost make it too real. Even as I recounted the terrible nightmare in the bright lights of the bathroom, a shadow was cast over our usual cheery moods. Yes, it was just a dream, but we’ll be keeping an extra close eye on him over the next few days, just in case.
(This happened just last night… I am still shaken.)