Everyone wants to hear the good reports. The ones where my papa is singing and eating and getting stronger and praise our miraculous God because those things are happening but that’s not the whole of it. There’s another part of this journey—a part filled with excruciating pain and it’s very real. To only share the moments of bliss would be a lie. If you are looking for a story that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside you might want to check out the movie theaters where things are make-believe. There's no such thing as real life stories without some level of trial and suffering. I’m living out a painful love story—the kind that makes me desperate for Jesus. I look to the heavens and cry out, “Come Lord Jesus. Come now and fix this horrible broken mess.”
A whole day comes and goes. And another. And another. They come and go and I wonder when this season will end but the predictions all warn me to brace myself, hold on tight, because this season will likely be long, and this season is extra stormy. When the all doctors, therapist, and visitors leave, when my papa is fast asleep, when it’s just me and Jesus in the dark of the night—that’s when I let out all those tears I held in all the day long. Because really, if it weren’t for the strength of the Lord sustaining me, I’d fall into a heaping cry on the floor for most of the day and that would be both awkward and unaccommodating, not to mention embarrassingly ugly. When I’m encouraging my papa during therapy sessions, while I’m feeding my papa breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and when I try to think of things to say to brighten his spirit as he stares off blank at one of the walls in our hospital room—these are the times I see my papa struggling within and it shatters every part of my heart. Somehow God’s power shows up at just the right time to hold me together moment by moment. I’m sure I’ll break but I don’t. My papa wouldn't take a single bite of his breakfast this morning. I’m not sure how to handle papa when he’s this way—so fragile and delicate. Sometimes he needs to hear my voice. Other times he needs me quiet. Sometimes he needs to feel my fingers stroking through his hair. Other times he needs to be left alone. Sometimes I get it right. Sometimes I don’t. It’s all a spinning blur and I don’t know how to do this. By the end of the day when I crawl into my roll-out hospital bed I am a needy helpless child. Scared, I go running hard into the arms of my heavenly Daddy and I let out all the stored up tears from the day. They stream down my face and He holds me. He is my refuge and I feel safe. His love is so much longer and wider and deeper than I have ever before known. It seems scandalous how my papa’s suffering allows me the privilege to enter into this deeper understanding of God’s great mysterious love for me.
And while everyone prepares for this holiday weekend complete with Easter egg hunts, church services, and family gatherings, I fight to stay strong in the face of my papa’s depression.
It’s going to sound ludicrous but I think to myself this might just be the most beautiful Easter celebration I’ve ever had. Because here, where I’m forced to be still, where the pain penetrates deep, and the longing nearly crushes the lungs, my reflection of the cross reaches new depths. It’s more real than ever before.
The day my Jesus was crucified, He hung there on that cross with passion, suffering and bleeding out true love. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Three days later He rose from the dead and with every fiber of my being I believe it. The suffering of my Jesus has redeemed me. I believe and rejoice because even now the story is not complete. A day is coming when my Jesus is going to return for me. Today I stumble through this dark world but Jesus will come to my rescue. He’s my hero. Until that day I will seek His face and serve Him. While I’m waiting, I have work to do. Jesus gave me His love. His Spirit lives inside me and this radically changes my life, turns it completely upside down. I feel wild. I’m on a stroke wing of a hospital tending to every little need of my papa who I love with every ounce of Jesus love in me. I think back to that verse in my bible: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” 1John 3:16
Humbled at the feet of my Jesus, I count it a blessing to be exactly where God has called me to be. And how can I forget the way my papa first showed me the sacrificial love of Jesus when he rescued my twin baby girls—so many sleepless nights and hospital visits were needed to keep them alive and he did this when he didn’t have the means to do it…simple faith and real love was enough. Tonight I see the cross, I know more about what love is and I cry, “Holy is the Lamb.” Again, simple faith and real love will be enough.
We covet your prayers for my papa...pray he will not get depressed on this journey. Pray that my brother, Clief will be able to get his visa to come be a deeply needed source of encouragement for our papa.
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