Eight hours away. . .

(I wrote this a year ago… and as I find myself waiting yet again for more tests on his heart today, I thought this piece appropriate to re-post… )

My heart pounds in my chest because death’s terrors have reached me. Fear and trembling have come upon me; I’m shaking all over. I say to myself, I wish I had wings like a dove! I’d fly away and rest. ~Psalm 55:4-6 (CEB)

My heart today is eight hours away with my father. I feel like my spirit has flown away leaving behind this shell of a body. I wander around the house aimlessly, picking things up and then wondering why it is in my hand. I might seem to look at you but my eyes see right through you.

My mind keeps going back to a year ago. It was unexpected then. I was going about everyday life. Then a call. Fear. Worry. I was afraid to hope. To think. To feel.

There was a time I thought my dad could and would move mountains. I thought he would always be able to find me when I got lost. All I would have to do was call. Then I found out that nothing is forever here on earth. Eventually even the mountains crumble into the sea.

Today, my father is 8 hours away. He’s back in the hospital. This time there is hope. A pacemaker to nudge his heart. This time still finds me wishing I was not…. eight hours away. Oh that I had wings like a bird and could soar. I could be there in a moment and see with my eyes if he is okay. I could put this fear to rest.

I know that no matter what God has my father in His hands. Here on earth or up in Heaven I know my father will be okay…

But still my mind wanders and I wonder why I am standing here… what was I headed to do? I can’t seem to think with my heart… eight hours away.

Heavenly Father, I know You love my father even more than I do. Please calm my trembling hands, focus my mind on the things that still must be done. Take care of my heart while it wanders today. Amen.

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