God’s Will be Done
Of course it was snowing. It had been a long weekend and for this one night she was looking forward to staying home and probably going to bed early. Then the call came. He wasn’t doing well, and they needed her to come as soon as possible. Her hands were tight on the wheel as she slowly passed cars that had slid off the road. An hour later she was exiting the highway, giving thanks that this part of the road was clear and the snow had stopped. A smile crossed her face as she thought of how he would have told her, in a different time, that he would pour her a bourbon.
She pulled into her favorite spot by the emergency entrance, remembering that last week the security guard had left a note on her windshield telling her employees weren’t supposed to park there. Funny that after her nightly vigils the guard thought she was an employee rather than a daughter. She rushed through the doors and found her way to ICU. Her mom and sister were in the waiting room, holding hands and holding back tears. He was bleeding internally, the doctor said. They were going to give him eight units of blood to see if it might staunch the bleeding. Her mom, exhausted, shattered, asked to be taken home to sleep for a few hours.
They let her into the room. Her dad was a sundowner and it helped tremendously to have one of his children spend the night. It had become part of her routine. The nurses were monitoring his infusion and his vital signs. She settled back in the recliner and they spoke of nothing and of memories and of dreams. After several hours the doctor, far too young to her weary eyes, called her to the nurse’s station. The bleeding continued, there really wasn’t anything more they could do at his age and in his condition. She should probably call her mom and have her come back.
She went back and her dad asked, “It’s not good, is it?” No, Dad. And then the question that stopped her heart, “What does your mother want?”
How to answer that? She wants you to live! Life without you will break her heart. She depends on you; we all depend on you. Let’s fight.
He was a faith-filled man. He had taught them about the love of God through his love of them. He was active in the church, he prayed at home, he shared his faith with others, he was joyful. He and his wife of over 50 years prayed regularly together for their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She, his daughter, was steeped in the faith he had so lovingly shared. He trusted her with his final wishes, made clear that in the end he wanted to die with the dignity the Lord had given him from before he was in the womb. He was not afraid.
“What does your mother want?” Mom wants what you want, Dad, for God’s will to be done.
Her sister brought her mom back and she called the rest of her siblings. They came, and those who couldn’t they called so a final goodbye could be said. They sang and prayed and told stories and laughed. He didn’t respond, except once or twice with a grunt, but he knew they were there. Finally, when most of them had left the room, he quit breathing and slipped into his new life. God’s will was done.
