“Yes.”  That was my Dad’s sweet, confident answer to the consulting therapist in his wheelchair at Marianjoy Rehabilitation Hospital yesterday.

Just looking at those words in a sentence associated with my dad hurts:  wheelchair, therapist, hospital.  My tall, strong, intelligent Father laid so low…

His primary struggle continues to be stabilizing his blood pressure, so that’s the big prayer request for today.  They can’t even begin therapy in earnest until they can get him stable medically.  They’ve given him another week to recover and will assess him again next Monday.

I don’t understand why my Dad has to be suffering like this (I really do understand, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it…).  Like so many in our world believe, it doesn’t matter how good a life my Dad has lived serving God and others–we know good works don’t save–and the notion of karma is just plain foolishness.  Sin wins…for now.  Trapped in these physical, failing bodies for such a time as this–we are slaves to sin’s chains (both our own and those done to us by others…)–it’s a cruel, unjust, irrational, maddening constraint.

Ellie’s been singing hymns lately from her “Kickin’ It Old School” VBS in Indiana last week.  And while we were out walking the dog the other day, she wanted to know what it meant that someday she was going to “fly away” with Jesus.  That gave Karyn and I a chance to remind her that, as a child of the King, she’s going to bust those nasty, sinbound chains loose and go live to be with Jesus forever someday after she dies.  Or, if she’s lucky enough to be alive when Jesus comes back, to fly away, meet him in the sky and, in freedom, move on to heaven.

It’s interesting as I read over this post and reflect on my last year of writing in Second Campus as well, I always envisioned this blog to help inspire people in their spiritual formation at Blanchard Alliance Church–particularly the Warrenville campus.  But instead it’s become a kind of recovery diary for my own hurting family.  My hope in reading my thoughts is that you finish with hope in Christ, as I still do.  John Casey often comments that all of us “come up against something”–that it’s what makes us tethered, earthbound human beings.  I get that.  But you can’t hold me down forever.  I will fly away someday, too (along with my dad and my whole family).  Can’t wait!

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