3 Months ago today, I was sitting in the hospital watching and helping my first child to be be born. Only 10 hours previous I had received a call from my mother telling me that my father had died. I had never experienced so much emotion in such a small time period. It truly was both agony and ecstasy.
I have tried to write this post many times. In fact, I have deleted and edited this post down to what you are reading, I am sure it is far from anything that you could call coherent. I had planned on writing much more. My point isn't to sadden you... in fact it is to explain God's mystery and love.
Growing up my dad was my hero, and he remains my hero to this day. So to think of a situation in which I wouldn't fly home to be with him in his final days, was impossible. But it happened. The only thing that could keep me from my dad and mom, was my own family, the one that God prepared for me. That is what I did. In fact, my sister had flown up here to be with me... so she too was in a situation she would have never dreamed. We had each other, but most of all we had God. It would be lazy and foolish to question God's motive here.
As I heard my mom tell me the news that broke my heart, over the phone no less... I told her that my wife had just started having contraction. Neither of us questioned the timing. Mostly because it was obvious to us. My wife was 5 days late... could have had the baby at anytime. My mom had called me earlier that morning telling me that the nurses said that my dad only had an hour or two; he lasted 12. Sol the timing was perfect.
Perfect? Yes.
My dad just happened to be at a hospital he had never planned on being at. He was in a rehab facility, and when he took a turn for the worse, they took him there, rather than the hospital where he had spent most of the previous 4 months. This hospital was Catholic... it was also the hospital that my wife and I first saw our daughter via an ultrasound. Such beautiful continuity.
So when my mom called... I looked at the clock, and realized that it was 11:00pm back in Michigan. My dad died on January 20. My daughter was born 5 hours into the 21st day of January. My dad knew... but more importantly God knew, he even took into consideration the 4 hour time difference. The Lord gave, but first he had to take away. I honestly believe that my dad's job was done, and knew that it was my turn. Little could have eased the pain of that night for me... except for the most beautiful gift on earth. All tied to one Catholic hospital... dedicated to Fathers.
So on a long, dark, cold, and sad night in Alaska, the Lord sent a light into our life that eliminated the darkness that sin and depravity had engulfed us in. One tiny little light.
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