Life Goes On

Life goes on. The sun rises, the sun sets and life just keeps on going on.

Sometimes it seems like when we walk through hard times (like losing a loved one) we think that the whole world should stop and notice and grieve with us. But life just goes on.

And I guess that's a good thing.

Life stopping? Not so good.

Dad is still hanging on to his life, still waiting to be summoned for his glorious graduation. Although it's not quite as glorious for the rest of us, the thought of him getting to meet his own dad (who died when my dad was just three days old ) is quite marvelous to contemplate.

And to think of my dad, who has struggled with major health challenges his whole life, being within just a few breaths of getting a perfect, healthy body? That's pretty marvelous, too.

He'll go to heaven. And life will go on.

And for those of us left behind. Life will go on.

__________________

In non-dad news, we're packing up our hotel room and getting ready to hit the road for home.

The interview last night went very well; we just a call this morning that they want us to come back and conduct a service (preaching and music). And then I'm assuming at that point we would be voted on by the congregation.

I'm not giving the name of the town yet, but it is one of the most beautiful little communities we have ever seen. We took a walk on the waterfront Sunday night and ate dinner at a little sidewalk cafe. I'll have some pictures to post once I get a few moments to get my act together a little more. Right now I just feel sort of frazzled and bedraggled.

The funniest moment in the interview last night was when Steve happened to mention that I had beat their former pastor at ping pong many years ago. (We had sung at that church back when we were on the road.) I must say that my stock with the men in the room went up rather significantly when that news was reported.

Their pastor of 21 years was greatly loved there and well respected but the joke about him that everyone knows is that he hates to lose at anything. (In other words, he's a great winner.) All the guys in the room said they were going to call their former pastor and razz him about losing to a girl! (Actually, the pastor demanded a re-match and came back and beat me the second time, so he was a happy guy.)

Anyway, the board members and pulpit search committee were truly delightful, warm hearted, open minded people. We really enjoyed our evening, although we were frightfully nervous going into it.

We didn't tell them till the very end about my dad's situation and they were all rather flabbergasted by the fact that I had been able to sit there so many hours, completely at peace. I knew I was able to keep my composure because of the prayers going up for me; I truly have felt the difference they have made.

Well, I'll sign off now and head out the door. We're still working on travel arrangements but the four of us should be heading to Wisconsin within the next day or two.

And in the meantime? Life goes on.

Too Little Sleep, Too Many Tears

Thank you for your many words of encouragement, e-mails, promises of prayer, and virtual hugs. I feel very "surrounded." (In a good way of course!)

Dad is still hanging on to life. The siblings are still coming and going from his bedside, still crying for him, for each other and for mom. We're all more aware than ever of the ties of love that are holding each of us up, and tying all of us together.

Depending on how Dad doing tomorrow when we get home from this trip, I may be flying out very soon. It's been a roller coaster of emotionally massive proportions as he rallies for a few hours, then plummets, then gets better, than takes a turn for the worse. Every time the phone rings, I think it's going to be "The News" and I wonder, when the time comes, how I will take it. How I will feel. How hard it will be to hear the final words. I talked with my sister a few minutes ago and she said it looks like it's coming down to the next day or two.

Tonight at 6:30 is our big, scary and important meeting with the seven men and one woman of the pulpit search committee. It's hard to believe that so much can hang on just a few hours. And with my stress load already pretty high with dad's situation, I hope I don't end up going in there and babbling and rambling and making no sense whatsoever.

The tears come and go with no warning. I had a very teary moment last night when Debbie called and said that dad was asking to go to my two websites and read them. He wanted to see what I had written and see the pictures that had been posted. It occurred to me that in a few hours/days, he would never again see anything I had written and it hit me pretty hard.

He also wanted to look on a map and see where we were traveling this weekend. He's always followed us closely in all of our journeys and has sent his love and prayers along with us. Hard to believe that those won't follow me anymore either.

Sigh. I need to go and get ready for the evening. I'm hoping that my make up might miraculously be able to disguise too little sleep, too many tears.

What Life Is

After getting about two hours of sleep last night, I finally talked with my sister this morning.

Dad is still holding on by a thread. Debbie said that after hanging up with me, she and the family would be talking with the doctor about which life saving measures (if any) they want to keep in place. Tough decisions for all.

In a couple hours, we'll be headed out to our two Very Important Appointments on the coast. And then at some point next week, there will no doubt be a long drive to Wisconsin, a funeral, a college farewell to Nathan and the celebration of Sarah's 14th birthday.

Isn't that just what life is, though? It is celebrations, sorrows, joys, tears, saying good bye to the old parts of life and saying hello to the constantly evolving new chapters that are being written every moment.

At this very moment, Dad is in the process of saying both good-bye (to us) and hello (to heaven). He is truly living out what life is.

The Last Stages of Good-Bye

The phone rang at 11:45 pm.

Steve was sleeping soundly and I was kind of drifting in and out of slumber. However, it didn't take but a second for me to come fully awake.

Just as I expected, the call was from the hospital. However, it wasn't a call saying that dad was gone. It was my sister, Debbie, calling so say that Dad wanted to talk to us.

I heard Dad's voice come on the line and I realized he was crying. He said, "Honey, I miss you so much. You've been such a treasure to me and I want you to know that I'm proud of you."

And the last thing he said to me was, "We'll all be together again."

His voice was very weak and I could hear the rattle in his chest but I could still understand clearly what he was saying.

While I was talking with Dad, Steve went to get Nathan and Sarah. Dad told Sarah, "You have taught me how to have a servant's heart and how to have a giving heart."

He said to Nathan, "No matter what you decide to do, the sky will be the limit for you."

When Steve got on the phone, Dad thanked him for being willing to preach his funeral and then he told Steve that he knew that God had chosen him especially to be my husband and take such good care of me."

He ended his conversation with each of us by saying, "I love you."

Finally he said that he had to get back on his oxygen and we hung up.

By that point, Sarah and I were in tears. She came and stood by the bed and held my hand and we cried together. Nathan went over to Steve's side of the bed and we all held hands and prayed for Dad, for Mom, and for all of us left behind.

After we were finished, Nathan laid down at the foot of the bed and we all started talking through the tears and telling stories about dad. Steve got it rolling by saying (pertaining to the late night call), "Well, Becky, your dad always has been a night owl."

And I said, "Yeah. And Mom has always been a morning owl."

Both kids giggled and told me there was no such thing as a "morning owl."

And suddenly our tears had turned into laughter and the pain of the pending loss was eased just a little as we continued to laugh and talk and cry together.

Since that phone call came, I haven't been able to get back to sleep. (It's about 2 am.) A few minutes ago, I was just sitting here and thinking back to a conversation I had with Debbie earlier in the evening. She was saying how wonderful our brother, Phil, had been with Dad all day. She said he just sat by his bed for long periods of time, rubbing his shoulders, patting his arm and talking to him.

She painted such a poignant picture that I could just see the two of them together there in that hospital room, a father and a son in the last stages of good-bye.

But I know deep down it's not really good-bye. As Dad reminded me, "We'll all be together again."

And Yet Another Change of Plans

A few things have changed since my last post. (And by the way, thank you so much for your sweet words of encouragement in the comments section; you all are so special to me!)

I just talked with my sister, Debbie, who is at the hospital with my mom and dad, along with some of my other siblings, in-laws and nephews; there are also a couple more family members en route. The whole crew is going to be staying overnight in the hospital waiting room.

I have another brother who is on vacation with his family several hundred miles from the hospital, in addition to another "unofficially adopted" brother in FL; they have both decided to wait until dad's actual passing to make the trip home.

After hearing about their decisions, Steve and I got to talking and realized that the chances of me getting there before Dad dies are pretty small. And even if he were still alive when I got there, he's been in and out of consciousness a lot and barely coherent so most likely he wouldn't even know I was there.

I did get to talk with him on the phone a couple days ago and we ended the conversation by saying that we loved each other. I guess those are the best "last words" I could ever hope to have with my dad. (There are tears streaming down my face as I write this.) And so I am at peace with the knowledge that I have said my good-byes.

What's really amazing to me is that a couple months ago, before dad's health took such a dramatic turn for the worst, I dreamed three times in one week that he had died. I know that God was preparing me for what was to come.

Tonight we'll keep the phone by the bed because we know the news could come any minute.

As it stands now, I've decided to ahead with the trip to the coast and then we'll just take it an hour at a time from there. The four of us will probably drive up north for the funeral since flying would be quite expensive. As I said, we'll just take it a little bit a time.

I'm headed to bed right now. It's hard for me to grasp that this could be the last night I'll go to sleep while my Dad is still a part of this world. And yet how happy I will be when his fragile, weary body is once again strong and healthy in the other wonderful World that's waiting for him.

Very, very soon, he's going to be one happy man!

I'll close with a part of a song I wrote:

Heaven's calling you today

So go ahead, go fly away

Leave behind your pain, oh leave behind your tears

It's time to dance, it's time to sing

And rise on resurrection wings

Though we cry for you, we'd never hold you here

When heaven's calling

Emergency Change of Plans

It looks like I won't be going to the coast to those two churches after all.

Steve and Sarah will head out there tomorrow but the way it looks right now, I will be flying out very early in the morning to Wisconsin to be with my family.

It appears that my dad doesn't have many hours (or days) left to live. He's gone up and down all day and just in the last few minutes went into respiratory arrest. He was able to be revived but things aren't looking good.

And so I'll be going. With tears. And love.

He has asked Steve and my brother-in-law, Randy, to preach his funeral.

Thank you for your prayers.