I’ve got several blogs mostly written – which is quite unusual for me. However, none of them feel right just now.
My father’s physical condition continues to ebb. It’s slow, but visible. We all know he’s dying.
The good news is twofold; first that we’re experiencing it together and second that I believe that I’ll be able to go back to visit him at least once more before he leaves this world. Once he got settled into the rehab hospital, I’ve been able to talk with him on the phone regularly. Every time we have a few good minutes to talk is a blessing.
I know I’m straddling the link between my parents and their generation on one side and my children’s generation on the other. What makes this challenging is that my children range from 38 to 13 – literally two generations.
Moses was eighty-something and settled into his routine with his wife, family and goats when God called him.
Abram and Sarai were well past my age when they were called to serve.
I know God’s got everything figured out.
However, faith, up close and personal is a different experience from the intellectual discussion of faith.
sfnowak 
Blessings and continued grace (favor) be to you, Steve…your pop and family. I believe you’re right, Steve, regarding an “intellectual discussion” about faith vs. the experience of living our faith. However, the latter does not necessarily include how we “question” our faith in times of trials and doubt.
“Why Lord?,” I believe, is appropriate–because we seek understanding. And we are not the first and we won’t be the last to ask that question…or to get God’s answer. It’s has always been and will always be the same: All of our troubles, worries and trials ultimately turn into blessings.
For example, your 2 or 3 hour trips to see your dad are rather long and arduous, and perhaps inconvenient. Yet, those who did the same before you will tell you those long, tedious drives are the very thing that will help you “let your father go.” God really does know what He is doing.
And there’s a reason why a person’s latter stage is called their “bed of life.”
They make “our” life precious. They bring us to the Foot of the Cross…of
Jesus…as their last act of love. Yes, it is difficult for you to see your dad at this stage of his life, living, being, and doing. Remember, though, this stage was not the whole of his life: For most of your dad’s life he was well, vibrant, energetic, and contributing. And as intellectual or living faith, recall this: Each time you remember your dad, he lives forever. Peace B2U.–rick
Rick,
Thanks for the note, as always. The unfortunate piece you missed is that it’s about 12 hours each way to visit my Dad, so I can’t do it as often as I’d like.
Last night, I told him “I know it’s stupid to start the conversation with, ‘How are you?’ However, I haven’t thought of anything better, so you’re just going to have to tolerate it.” If he’d felt better, I think he would have laughed.
When I was up there, he was dealing with C-Diff, so isolation precautions were in place. I would be with him all day, and figured that if rigid hand washing didn’t take care of it, so be it. I shaved him, fed him, prayed the rosary with him and we took communion together. In his way, he told me how important my touch was. It was poetic, because the priest from the parish he had belonged to for many years before he moved to the senior home had stopped by and we were discussing Pope Francis (among other things). Why would I deny my own father such closeness when Francis gives us such an example?
We talk every night – usually only for a few minutes because he tires easily. He always has the phone within reach. I told him tonight that so many of my friends and coworkers have him in their prayers – one of the benefits of “the wardroom.” Officers tend to be people of faith; I guess it goes with understanding that there are things more important than “me.”
We reached an agreement – Me, my family and my friends will pray for him until he gets home, then he has to pray for us.
Blessings and the Good News of Christ be with you.
Esteban