I woke up from a nap in which I was dreaming I was talking to my dad over the phone as he was laying in a hospital bed. He was hard to hear...crying, alone, afraid, and terribly without hope. I tried to comfort him, but no more words could come. I couldn't understand what he was going through and couldn't tell him the things I knew he needed to hear because the words simply didn't exist. I woke up paralyzed. I couldn't move. The dream was so real and completely overtook my body. I felt shaken and guilty...like my stomach had swallowed the pieces of my heart that had just slowly shattered into millions of pieces. My arms suddenly felt like they were made of bricks and my throat refused to swallow.
Cancer sucks. It is a mean, unforgiving, harsh, gross, unfair disease. I loathe the toll it has taken on my dad's life and on the emotions of our entire family almost as much as I hate the sickness itself. I have seen good come from it. My family loves a lot harder than we used to. I've seen the fighter in both my mom and my dad. I have seen selfless care flow from my sister's hands. I'm thankful that it has brought us closer, but to what cost and for how long?
This dream was so scary to me because it was not long ago that I was sitting in alley way crying with him over the phone about how much I wanted to be there taking care of him or to be helping mom. It took me back to that frighteningly familiar dark place. It took me back to the first time he told us how bad the cancer was, when he went through the disheartening number of surgeries, chemotherapy, traveling to a hospital on the other side of the United States, losing his hair, throwing up every single day, tears, silence, anger, frustration, pain, anguish, hate, agony, complete and utter hopelessness.
And yet, I love that Jesus is taking care of my dad. I don't trust any Doctor more than Him and He has been faithful to provide for dad. I don't know how much time he has left on this earth and I don't really like to think about it. It's hard to think about timing. I want my dad to walk me down the aisle when/if I eventually get married. I want him to have grandkids. I want to see my mom and dad celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. I want my dad to retire and go see the parts of the world he's always wanted to see. I want the very best for my dad as he has always pushed me to pursue the very best in my life. I'm not gonna lie, hope is sometimes (even oftentimes) hard to see. I know it's always there and it's continually calling, but there's so much debris clouding and drowning out hope's little voice. Though when we eventually find it, hope is a beautiful beautiful thing.
I don't know what I would do if I didn't have Jesus. I already get this depressed knowing how much hope there is in Christ and that in the end I'll get to spend eternity with both of my wonderful fathers. I would be the messiest person alive if this truth was not known. Thank you Jesus for hope, for taking care of my dad, and loving him more than I ever could.
Cancer sucks. It is a mean, unforgiving, harsh, gross, unfair disease. I loathe the toll it has taken on my dad's life and on the emotions of our entire family almost as much as I hate the sickness itself. I have seen good come from it. My family loves a lot harder than we used to. I've seen the fighter in both my mom and my dad. I have seen selfless care flow from my sister's hands. I'm thankful that it has brought us closer, but to what cost and for how long?
This dream was so scary to me because it was not long ago that I was sitting in alley way crying with him over the phone about how much I wanted to be there taking care of him or to be helping mom. It took me back to that frighteningly familiar dark place. It took me back to the first time he told us how bad the cancer was, when he went through the disheartening number of surgeries, chemotherapy, traveling to a hospital on the other side of the United States, losing his hair, throwing up every single day, tears, silence, anger, frustration, pain, anguish, hate, agony, complete and utter hopelessness.
And yet, I love that Jesus is taking care of my dad. I don't trust any Doctor more than Him and He has been faithful to provide for dad. I don't know how much time he has left on this earth and I don't really like to think about it. It's hard to think about timing. I want my dad to walk me down the aisle when/if I eventually get married. I want him to have grandkids. I want to see my mom and dad celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. I want my dad to retire and go see the parts of the world he's always wanted to see. I want the very best for my dad as he has always pushed me to pursue the very best in my life. I'm not gonna lie, hope is sometimes (even oftentimes) hard to see. I know it's always there and it's continually calling, but there's so much debris clouding and drowning out hope's little voice. Though when we eventually find it, hope is a beautiful beautiful thing.
I don't know what I would do if I didn't have Jesus. I already get this depressed knowing how much hope there is in Christ and that in the end I'll get to spend eternity with both of my wonderful fathers. I would be the messiest person alive if this truth was not known. Thank you Jesus for hope, for taking care of my dad, and loving him more than I ever could.
