Two words: tears and stability.
(Okay, that was three.)
Tears of gratefulness
I can’t read more than a handful of your comments without crying — nor can my mom or dad. I turned to Mark and said, “People can be so wonderful. I can imagine God is so happy right now with this international outpouring of unity.” To witness intercession from saints as far away as Central Eurasia, African countries, the Baltic states, many of our 50 states, prayer chains in Montana and Kansas and Missouri…wow. The three of us can’t even bring it up without tearing up. God’s love is overwhelmingly evident in YOU. We will not forget this for the rest of our lives.
Tears of realization
Letting the doctor’s words sink in that if my dad had waited until the end of this week to come in, he would have died. Realizing that his bursts of rapid heart rate over the past half-decade may have been indicating something more. Realizing that the blood coming up now is not just from clots but from bleeding lungs. Realizing that a transition off IV blood thinner may mean a lifetime on oral blood thinner.
Tears of the unknown
Tears for not knowing how or when this all started so we could have stopped it. Tears over asking God that the blood thinners work to prevent an invasive and risky surgery. Tears for not knowing how long the hospital stay will be, and for knowing so many families around the world wonder the same daily.
Tears of worship
The care God has demonstrated for just. one. soul. bowls us over (cue “Reckless Love” by Cory Asbury). My anthem this week, “Miracles” by Jesus Culture, makes me wonder how many times I sang it in church not knowing that one day, life and death would hang in the balance and I’d cast all my faith in the statements, “I believe in You. You’re the God of miracles.”
And stability
My dad’s pain has gone from a 13 (and it’s a 10-point scale, y’all) to a 2. His atrial fibrillation has decreased. He can talk, though with sharp coughing. Mercy hospital staff’s goals are our prayer requests: that the lung bleeds stop
•that heart rate decreases even more
•that his body absorbs the clots
•that the IV blood thinner works so he can adjust to oral blood thinner.
If these go well, he can leave the hospital in several days. If not, then surgery occurs. And if there’s a miracle: then instantaneous healing for all of the above. For this we pray. My dad also asks for less pain and more sleep. (So too my mom: she and I made four trips to the hospital and back, and I think she and my dad pulled their first all-nighter since high school…?.) And above all, my dad asked me to relay how humbled and grateful he is to be brought before the Father by all of you.
More tomorrow,
Renée