God Is In Control

He breathes.

Blessedly breathes.

But the inhale becomes shallow, the exhale postpones.

He’s pale, razor thin.

My grandfather, or “Mr. Wonderful,” a name that stuck as a kid, is dying.

He’s confined to a hospital bed. A bed encircled with a passel of nurses and beeping machines. Friends and family stand nearby exchanging worried glances. Desiring to feel useful we brush fingers through his silvery white hair, offer water, food, anything.

It’s inevitable.

Death is a veiled threat.

Desperate pain causes confusion. He pieces stories and conversations together like a puzzle, only the pieces don’t fit. He utters fragmented sentences with no meaning. Sometimes, he thinks he’s still chained in a WWII Nazi prison. Other times, in a haze of medication, he struggles to communicate at all.

Mom sits on one side of the bed and I on the other. We lean in towards him. He grabs our hands with his wobbly, frail ones. Then he presses our hands together as if to pray.

“Let’s pray together, dad,” mom says.

She prays with sweet tenderness as tears stream down her face.

She’s losing the anchor in the sea of her life.

With a slight squeeze and a clearing of his throat, my grandfather begins to pray. I think to myself, “Even though he fails to make any logical sense in normal conversation, he makes perfect sense while praying to His Heavenly Father.”  His words are clear, heartfelt, understood.

So it is with us and Jesus.

Some days the only thing in our lives that actually make sense is Jesus. When we’re confused, uncertain, unsure… Jesus is the One we run to for clarity, for sense-making. He alone is the common denominator, the solution to every problem. He is in control of us and for us.

This is the last prayer my mom and I will ever pray with him, the last time the three of us will talk about Jesus together. But not the last time we will ever see him… and that is such good news.

On my flight home, I ponder the purpose of pain and suffering. In the death of “Mr. Wonderful,” the purpose of our pain, my families pain, was to renew and refine our faith. It was the perfect occasion for God to remind us, “This earth isn’t our home…we are set apart… our souls were created to experience eternity in a seat next to Jesus.”

Suddenly, the wheels of my mind begin to turn a little more and I think, “…The purpose of the pain for my granddad was so that God could remove it from his frail, worn-out body as He ushered him into heaven.”

“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised,” Job 1:21.

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7 Responses

02.22.12

The only thing that really does make sense Kelli is God He doesn’t change like man does, we can trust in Him knowing He is going to keep all His promises..
desirayl recently posted..Faith Expression AbilityMy Profile

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02.22.12

Losing a loved one is so difficult. But knowing it is not the last time we will see them is comforting. Knowing they are worshiping at the Father’s feet is a beautiful picture.

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02.22.12

thank you for sharing such and intimate, difficult time! I know it will be encouragement to many!

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02.22.12

Loved reading about your “Mr Wonderful”… His goodness and tender mercies never end… beautiful post my lovely friend.

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02.22.12

For me, this is very inspirational…Thanks a lot for the post you have shared us here…Great job too!
GelliAnn recently posted..Relaxation Techniques For AnxietyMy Profile

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02.22.12

Your words are beautiful, Kelli. And so true. This world is not our home. We have hope to one day be reunited with those in our lives who are gone and yet remain so dear to us. Looking forward to that day too!
Eileen recently posted..I Am Not AloneMy Profile

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