Remembering my Dad on his Birthday and realizing that you are never suffering alone.
Today is my Dad’s birthday. He would have been 91 years old. He passed away on March 2, 2018. At the time of his death, he had suffered a lot. Earlier that year he fell and broke his hip. He was in the hospital for an extended period of time for surgery and rehabilitation. He was making progress in his recovery.
Eventually, they transferred him to a skilled care facility for rehab. He wasn’t there very long. While in skilled care, he developed respiratory issues along with the flu. On Valentine’s Day, they rushed him to the hospital because he was having such difficulty breathing. They kept him in the ER for an inordinately long period of time. Once they finally admitted him, he had to be intubated. He really just went downhill from there.
But my Dad was stubborn. (I’m a lot like him in this regard). He held on for over two weeks. I visited him daily. Most of the time he was unconscious. But in those few months when he would “wake up”, which wasn’t often, he would simply say, “I just want to go home.” That’s all he really wanted in the end was to be in his home, but that never happened for my Dad.
He died in the early morning hours of March 2, 2018. Thinking about him today and his suffering and listening to the podcast released today that my friends have, called KnowHis.love, which talked about entering the passion of Christ, I could not help but think about how people deal with suffering.
Everyone experiences suffering and each person has different ways of dealing with distress. For me, it was extremely difficult to watch my father suffer and not be able to do anything about it. It was difficult too to know that his suffering pained others because they experienced the very same things that I was experiencing, particularly helplessness.
While we had a wonderful support system during my father’s illness, friends, family, coworkers, pastors, and religious sisters, who were all praying for us. It was still a time of trouble and uncertainty. It was difficult to see my father who had always been so big and strong, lying in a bed so weak and vulnerable. He was always my defender, my protector, once going so far as to confront a teacher who accused me of cheating when I had not. I was in seventh or eighth grade at the time. And as a young adult (I was 19), I think he seriously considered tracking down a young man who had broken my heart. I’m glad he didn’t as I am sure there would have been repercussions and all things happen for a reason.
During his hospitalization which started in early January, he had lost a significant amount of weight. He was frail and, near the end he hallucinated a lot. He would shout out from his unconsciousness for a brief moment and then slip right back into silence. I will admit some things were humorous, like yelling about hotdogs that didn’t have mustard on them (my Dad loved mustard on his hotdogs). And some things helped me realize that he was ready to go home. Not home like he had talked about, but home to God and to his family that had gone before him. He would have one-sided conversations with people who had passed long ago. One of those conversations, I was convinced, was with my grandmother who died before I was born. I knew then that he was not going to recover. I knew then that rather than pray for his recovery I should pray for a peaceful death. That is a hard transition to make as a child, no matter how old you are.
But going back to my friends’ podcast, they discussed how to unite your suffering with Christ. And that made me realize that every time I had to endure suffering, Christ walked through that suffering with me. At the time, it was likely unbeknownst to me because I was so consumed with what I was dealing with, how I would process it, and what would come of it. But through all of it, Jesus was right there with me. He sent his angels to minister to me in the form of friends who would sit with me at my father’s bedside, including my son’s friend who came and prayed with us that first night he was admitted to the hospital. He sent angels in the form of priests who came to visit, pray over, and administer last rites. He sent the religious sisters to comfort and pray with me when I needed it most. Jesus was present to me through all of those people, but he was also present to me when I drove, in a daze, to the hospital on those gray winter mornings and when I needed the strength to be strong for others who were just as troubled as I was. Jesus was there with me in my pain, in my suffering, walking with me when I didn’t quite understand.
I am certain there some parts of my life that I would not have been able to get through without Him. He was with me as my father died, he was with me as I fought breast cancer, and he has been with me through numerous other struggles. What I have realized is that Jesus is with us through everything, even when we sometimes can’t feel His presence. He is there.
So as we begin this Holy Week, think about how Jesus has been present to you during your times of struggle. It might be difficult to find at first, but when you begin from a place of gratitude it is easy to see where God has been so very present in your life.
And if you are suffering right now, unite your suffering with Jesus, and let Him walk with you and take some of that burden from you. He will do that if you allow Him, if you invite Him into your suffering. I know this to be true because I have been there, so invite Him in. And today, please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
Tattoos, Motorcycles, Beer, Bourbon and Faith 