Saturday, April 23, 2011
I made a terrible mistake tonight and decided to watch "The Last Song" - you know the movie with Miley Cyrus in it. I read the summary- Rebellious piano prodigy goes to live with her Dad for the summer and it changes her life. It was the only PG rated movie that we saw as we cruised through on the Netflix list. It sounded like a good lesson learner for my kids to see a rebellious teenager change her attitude. Little did I know her Dad was going to die from lung cancer. As I watched them portray her dad dying, I relived my own Father's last days. I didn't know how to stop the faucet once it started. The suffering, the pain, the regrets...It was all there. I guess it always will be. I miss him.
It made me remember an Easter Eve many years ago when I was only 10 years old. I was rushed to the emergency room with soaring fevers and a swollen arm- later diagnosed as ostiomilitus. I remember them jabbing needles all over me as soon as they closed the emergency room door and my mom was on the other side, unable to help. I was alone with all these medical personnel taking blood samples and trying to find a place for an i.v. I remember they took blood from the veins on the top of my feet, I guess I was so dehydrated, that my vein options were limited. I was so scared. What was going on? And then they wheeled me out in a hospital bed and my mom was gone and there was my Dad. My mom had just taken her mom to the airport to go to the Bahamas for last chance cancer treatments. Then she came home to me with uncontrollable fevers and she was a wreck. Dad sent her home. I remember the ceiling lights being so bright as they wheeled me down the hospital halls, they hurt my eyes. I told my Dad and he covered my eyes with his hand to protect me.
So there I was on the night before Easter, strapped in a hospital bed, naked with cold cloths being placed on me intermittently all night, trying to get my fevers under control until they could get me in for an emergency surgery. That whole situation was awkward for both of us. I remember asking the nurse if I could just slide some underclothes on and she smilingly said no. My Dad, I'm sure was so worried about me, but he saw my embarrassment and tried to keep a comfortable distance so I didn't feel exposed. I so appreciated that. I remember the doctor came in and told me they were prepping me for emergency surgery. I told him, "Hey, it's Easter in a few hours, can I just go home and get the stuff from the Easter Bunny and I'll be back tomorrow and we can do this surgery thing then." He patted my hand and shook his head no and left the room. I kind of thought he was the most heartless man alive. He was obviously an Easter Bunny hater or he had forgotten what it meant to be a kid on Easter morning. I was devastated and worried the Easter Bunny wouldn't find me, so I prayed really hard that night that He would. Then the next thing I remember is waking up the next day and seeing an Easter basket beside my bed. I guess the Lord hears prayers.
My Dad got me through that horrible night. He gave me a blessing that I would be completely healed. I was. He was my lifesaver as I lay near death- (I found that part out later.) The heartless Arabian doctor came back when I was nearing the end of my hospital stay to remind me of that first night. He said, "Remember when you wanted to go home? You were very sick little girl. If I would have let you go home, you wouldn't be here now." (I guess he wasn't so heartless after all.) I guess I misjudged him a bit. :)
And then 6 months ago, role reversal, I sat by my Dad's side as he laid dying. I found sitting by the bedside to be so much worse. I saw him take his last breath and felt my world crumble. My Daddy was gone.
But today is Easter and I know that Christ atoned for my sins and broke the bands of death and He lives. HE LIVES and because of his sacrifice for us, we will too and I'll see my Dad again.
P.S. I went to bed after writing the previous thoughts and then I dreamed of my Dad. He came to give me a big hug. (I guess he saw the mess I made of myself after watching that darn movie.) He's still my lifesaver. What joy we will have when we meet again. Today I give thanks to my Heavenly Father for the sacrifice of His son- He being the one who had to painstakingly watch from the sidelines. And to his Son-my Savior and Redeemer who paid the price willingly, lovingly- to make a way back for all of us. I will always be in debt. Today I give thanks for all the lifesavers. Happy Easter.