If you’ve been reading my posts lately, you know I’ve been spending a lot of time with my Dad, who, as far as we can tell, isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. One of the perks of this experience has been the chance to spend time with my brother and sister. But when the call came that Dad might be cashing in his chips, we converged.
We hadn’t been doing much of that lately. Continue reading “Pretty sneaky, Dad”
These past few weeks I have noticed how small my Dad’s world has become. This came to my attention last week when at supper, we made sure to keep the bread out of my Dad’s sight. It’s a food he often chokes on, so we don’t let him have any. If he can’t see it, he doesn’t ask for it, and life is good. His reality is quite small, limited to what is in his field of vision.
His daily commute is quite small, too. It’s only a few steps from his bed to his bathroom and about as far to the kitchen table. This is his world now, about a 10′ x 20′ space. He has little interest in the weather, the upcoming presidential election, the news or even baseball. He doesn’t realize all who involved in his care. It’s a small, small world.
I like to think that my world is much bigger. After all, I’ve been doing a lot of traveling these last few years. I know what is going on and keep in touch with people around the globe. I am interested in the weather, elections, the news and sports. But is my world really that big?
The expanse of my experience is really just a small slice of a universe that we see more and more of each day, whether with telescopes or microscopes. I’m not always aware of how much care God provides for me through his angels and other people. My attention is quite often focused on that which is in my field of vision or in the realm of my self-interest. Hmmm. Maybe my world is pretty small, too.
Once in a great while, a window opens and my Dad remembers some of his experiences and travels to places I’ve never been or even heard of. All of a sudden, he’ll begin talking about places he was stationed in the South Pacific during World War II. Or a world where you built furniture by hand, as opposed to putting it together from pieces packed into a box. How about a world where you tuned up your car in the driveway?
For now, though, Dad’s world is pretty small. But just for a while. Before long he’ll get to experience a world without end, that much larger eternity that we were created for.
For those who have been following the story, it’s been a month now, and we’re still hanging out with Dad. Perhaps it would be better to say that Dad is still hanging out with us. And he isn’t planning on going anywhere soon. Recent tests show that his kidney appears to have regained some function, which we suspected as he resumed much of his daily routine.
Yes, this is good news. And yes, this is hard news. Continue reading “More time to hang out with Dad (part 3)”
It ‘s only been two weeks. But it feels like it’s been two months. Two weeks since the doctor said Dad had 10 days left to live. Two trips to Springfield to see him, be with him and now help care for him.
After getting Dad back home, I spent a week with him, expecting a gradual decline and preparing myself for the end. I flew home for the weekend, worked feverishly to get a bunch of stuff done and came back on Monday. Upon my return, Dad mentioned he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen me! Dad seemed to have improved a little. He can stand up on his own; he just can’t go anywhere. For the most part, we only need one person home to take care of him. Dad eats well — especially dessert — but wears out quickly and sleeps a lot. The overnight CNAs are wonderful and a blessing so we can get some rest.
So where do we go from here? Continue reading “Still hanging out with Dad”
I got the call last Wednesday night. My sister-in-law found Dad on the bathroom floor, confused and dehydrated. Tests at the hospital revealed kidney failure. The doctor spoke in terms of days and urged, “Tell your family to come.” Continue reading “Hanging out with Dad”
So about a week ago I found myself worshiping in a different language. On the Sunday after we arrived in Haiti, we attended a worship service at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. The service was spoken and sung entirely in Haitian Creole. The extent of my Haitian Creole is a few numbers and colors.
As I sat and listened intently, I was determined to find something that sounded familiar. I kind of knew where we were in the liturgy, so I recognized when they said “Amen” and I heard Jesus mentioned a few times. But that was pretty much it. It was a lengthy sermon, so my mind began to wander a little. I began to wonder if the Gospel is still the power of God for salvation if you can’t understand the language it’s being preached in. Can faith come from hearing the word of Christ in a different language?
I immediately thought to myself, “Of course not.” And just as quickly I thought, “Wait a minute. Is that always true?” What about absolution? Was I forgiven even though I didn’t actually understand the words of absolution the pastor spoke? This is a mind-bending question.
The converse is just as intriguing. Speaking the gospel in the language everyone understands doesn’t guarantee my audience will hear or grasp the message. I know people have sat through my sermons and wondered, “What in the world is he talking about?”
So, did I receive God’s gifts of grace that Sunday in Haiti? I believe I did, and I am thankful. But I need to do a little more thinking about this.
After a very early wake-up call, we assembled for a quick 4:30 am breakfast, loaded up the trucks and headed to the Port-au-Prince airport. Though it was barely dawn, the roads were already lined with people preparing for market day.
The airport is always part of the adventure. As soon as you step out of the van, you are surrounded by vendors and others eager to help you with your bags. This is when you get a lot of practice saying, “No, merci.”
Inside, long lines snake through the room where you wait to check in. Some check-in kiosks are working. Most are not. Finally we all get checked in and our bags dropped and its off to immigration, security, customs and a second security check. But this was a good day. It only took an hour to complete the process and we could sit down to wait for our plane to board. There are some nice little restaurants in the airport with some very good coffee, sandwiches and pastries.
The flight was uneventful, and immigration and customs on the US side went quickly. But that’s when you have to say goodbye to everyone heading off to different parts of the country. Facebook means we won’t lose touch. In fact, we’ll get to know each other better as we keep in touch and plan our next getaway to Haiti.
We still had a long drive home from Fort Lauderdale to Palm Coast, giving us lots of time to reflect upon our trip and short-term missions in general. More on that soon.
How do you prepare yourself to re-enter the real world? After a week in Haiti, it’s good to have a day to reflect, recuperate and recharge for the journey home.
We didn’t have to get up as early today, and traveled to Kaliko Beach Club just a little bit north of Port-au-Prince. It’s a nice little resort on some clear blue water lapping up against a rocky shore. You can just reach down and grab spiny lobsters and giant crabs, which various locals did who then offered to cook them up for me.
We sat on the beach, talked in the pool, napped and enjoyed a beautiful sunset.
After supper our group reflected on the week, and how it affected us and our faith. Plus, what will we say when someone asks, “So, how was your trip? Did you have fun?”
It’s a difficult question to answer. It was a hard week of grueling days and not drinking the water and not opening your mouth in the shower. It was a series of long rides to parts unknown where curious looks welcomed us onto their home court in strange tongues. It was a constant encounter with poverty, mercy and faith. It was as a previous team described it: “The worst vacation I ever loved.”
Everyone from rookies to seasoned veterans talked about “next time.” Lophane and Helen reminded us of the value of “presence.” And we were reminded that our friends, family and colleagues will now try to reel us back into the world from which we have been absent, whether we are ready or not.
The images of young eyes peering through holes in the walls, impossibly bumpy roads, the joyful splash of baptismal water and smile after amazing smile will play over and over again in our day and nighttime dreams. Those visions make you see every person, headline and bible passage in a different light.
How do you re-enter the real world? Transformed, renewed, discerning and grateful.
Another long bumpy ride took us back to Thomonde for our last clinic day. I talked about Jesus and the woman at the well to start things off today.
I was honored to do another baptism today for a man nearly at the end of his life. The tap on my shoulder late in the morning took me to a gentleman failing quickly due to old age. A celebration broke out as he confessed his faith and I spilled three handfuls of water from a small bag over Jean’s head. God just keeps adding to the number of those being saved! What a privilege to be the first to pray with a new brother in Christ!
The local church will send people to his home to provide care in his last days.
I had two encounters with a woman who came through my little prayer station. Pregnant, with a history of miscarriage and a tumor on her neck, she neede extra encouragement today. We surrounded her in prayer for some of God’s joy and peace in her life.
A number of people asked for prayers of “deliverance” today. They offered no other details, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they had at some point connected with voodoo. Voodoo is still a part of the fabric of life here. In any event, I offered a number of prayers for the freedom Christ brings.
We saw people for about three hours today before packing up to return home before the evening rains. I don’t know that we saw many really sick in the mountains this week. Beyond a few aches and pains, most were fairly strong and healthy.
Waite for it... 