Waiting is hard.
It reminds me of how much control over the world I DON’T HAVE.
Today I was busy. There wasn’t a minute unfilled, a second un-taken-advantage-of. And any other day, today might have been just crazy enough to send me over the edge to The Bin -you know… the one with padded white walls and cozy jackets with straps?
But today, I am waiting.
And the best cure for waiting is GOING. Or, as I like to put it, goinggoinggoing.
With any luck, I will have GONE to the point that the second my head hits my pillow I won’t have time to worry about the test results, the possibilities, the unknowns.
About a week and a half ago, my Dad got sick. And then he got sicker. And then he said he needed to see a doctor which, directly translated from Dad to Standard English, means “I need to go to the ER STAT.”
But he went to the doctor instead, and then a few days later he finally went to the ER.
Dad’s been in the hospital since Friday, and I haven’t blogged about it because Dad wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t want people fussing over him or knowing what’s going on in his life.
And I love him, so I want to do what he’d like.
But I love him, so I want to ask for prayers for him.
I know prayers work. I’ve watched them work.
And I know that if you’re reading this, you have time to send one up -just one.
There’s tests being run, blood being taken, and family members waiting. There have been tears shed at Hansen’s Auto shop counter by grown men who love my Dad. There have been texts, calls, emails, messages! One magical bag of chocolate that appeared out of nowhere and landed on my desk right when I got the news that Dad isn’t getting better. Dad’s customers have stopped by to ask after him. Men with whom he does business have called. I can’t keep up with updating everyone who is worried about this very well loved and respected man!