There are really hard days … with really touching moments.
*Stock image from Google
When my Dad was in the hospital battling Leukemia, everything was hard. Looking into his eyes, and sensing he was not quite present in the moment, as if his spirit were half somewhere else was really hard to stomach. I never thought I viewed him as my Hero, but I sure did view him as my strength, my wisdom, my laughter. Here he was in a hospital gown, crying most of his awake time because of a brain tumor that had developed and was pushing on the part of the brain that controlled emotions. On one particular visit to see him we asked ‘Dad why are you crying?’
He seemed to come back to our present moment and said “I just wonder if I’ve done right by you guys. Did I give you enough wisdom? Did I tell you how important God is?’ and he trailed off in soft tears.
We walked back and forth in those hospital halls. My daughter Jessica was about 18 months old with chubby cheeks and a giant smile that lit up everyone who saw her, including my Dad. I’ll never forget - crossing a glass enclosed walk-way above a street, Jessica stopped to look at the cars passing below. We were there for 2 days and each time we passed through, there was her chubby little hand print perfectly planted on the glass. It was such a contrast of joy and life and promise compared to what waited for us in Dad’s room that it caught me and spoke to me each time I saw it. I tried to take a picture of it but it didn’t show up.
I was newly pregnant with Paige when we received the news that there was nothing more the Drs. could do for Dad and sent him home on hospice to die. I wanted to be there so much. I wanted to soak up every moment possible that I could hear his breath, see his Heinz 57 eyes, and take care of him. He told me no. He said “My spirit might be leaving but God has already given permission for this family to go on through the spirit he is sending through you. If you’re here you might get so upset you could miscarry and I want to protect that baby.”
And just like that he was gone.
What an awful time, with such beautiful moments. Tiny hand prints, the promised cry of a new baby, a Loved one gone on, who wanted to protect his newest grand baby. The hard days can take your breath away. The loss of a job, a loved one, or a marriage, financial tragedies, and many days in between can all leave you feeling like life just knocked the wind out of you. Look for the hand prints, listen for the new cries of hope. They are there quietly waiting to breathe strength back into you when you need it most.
