January 1, 2015
New Year’s Eve.
Celebrating with Dad. He’s asleep.
I sit in near darkness. The light comes from a singular lamp. The chair I sit in is my sister’s. The room is not. Nor is it mine.
We fought back tears today. As dad said, “That’s something. She was so afraid I would fall.” It was she who fell.
It happened as she walked with dad – leaving days of hospital care, going to memory care. Grateful. Sad.
Stumbled. Fell. Pelvis, ribs, shoulder – fractured.
When I saw the text I took dad to this room. Told him the text. His face grimaced. The tears flowed.
That kind of year. Last Easter in the house. Last flowers planted. Last leaves raked. Last Christmas dinner. All awesome. All memorable. All sad. All with thanks for the years.
A year where the road to Rochester became worn. Familiar with ER. Know where to park for what. But Alfred? Where’s Alfred?
Then the hardest thing of all. The thing we feared the most. Moving Dad from home. His home. The home he loves.
Was not our plan to have Mom fall the day we were moving Dad. Which was harder? Doesn’t matter.
We have a God who knows what’s hard. A God who knows each step whether strong or frail. He knows when we’re about to stumble before we stumble.
So why does He let us? Why not catch us before we fall? Why leave us in pain?
There are answers. I don’t pretend to know. Nor do I pretend to know our God. Don’t need to. He IS. One doesn’t pretend one is riding in a car when one is riding in a car. Don’t need to. It IS.
I’m not a car. I don’t need to know how one works. And I don’ t need cliches. God is God.
And so ends a year. So begins another. No fireworks. No bubbly drinks. Just holding the arm of a much loved father as he tries to get from bathroom to bed.
May your new year be filled with meaning, significance, and the love of God …regardless the path.