(January 14, 2011) I am sitting in a hospital room. The machine rhythmically beeps as Dad's breathing rate accelerates. He recognizes me and smiles. He is ashen, uncharacteristically unshaven, grey stubby whiskers I have never seen until now. Only yesterday i was in Arizona hiking mountains, How life changes on a dime.
I take his hand, his eyes weakly open. He looks at me. The father who taught school for close to 40 years is now teaching me about wild and crazy love. I never thought of love being wild and crazy, but I think it is. I sense a wild* love for my father.. The emotions running through my veins right now are intense. It seems unfair, wrong to struggle for one simple breath. My father is almost too weak to breathe.
And an incoherent, ungovernable emotion overwhelms me. A few hours pass. It is time for lunch.. The tray of food sits before Dad. He looks at the food but is too weak to feed himself. Blisters cover his lips and tongue. His eyes ask me for assistance and he mumbles something. I think I hear the words "orange juice." I feed lunch to my father. I have never done that before. It seems strange, but I consider it a privilege.
I think about wild and crazy love. Love for my God, love for my husband, love for my children, love for my 12 grandchildren. This wild and crazy love, however, comes from a deep hidden place in the soul. And I await expectantly for God to walk with me through this "valley of the shadow of death."
* WEBSTER'S DEFINITION: WILD: FULL OF INTENSE, UNGOVERNABLE EMOTION, INCOHERENT
I traveled this territory with my mom, and it was indeed a privilege. But it's not easy. My thoughts are with you.
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