And the race goes on...

April  4, 2011

It feels like it has been April 4th forever. Every hour or so, I expect  the date on the calendar to change. A million life times pass with every morning, noon and night. And still the date remains the 4th. I opened my journal this evening from this morning's entry and was shocked to see the date. Were those prayers written only this morning? They seem like a million years ago. As I reflect this evening on the day's activities I wonder if I saw this or that person today or yesterday. But, yes, it all happened on the 4th. My heart is like an accordion, compressing and expanding every twenty minutes, sorrow and  joy, clarity and confusion. 

It has been good for the kids to handle and touch their dad. Not all the tasks have been pleasant. But the care of Dad has been more intimate than just an ordinary visit. They have grown closer as a result of this weekend. But I have retreated to the rear both emotionally and physically. I am waiting for the final storm.  Earlier we sat him up too fast and he briefly  fainted —his skin turned clammy and his eyes rolled backwards. In that brief instant I realized that I am not prepared for the end.  

The week has been busier than normal with so many visitors. Hospice has been here almost as a silent witness to what is really going on. In spite of all the care and all the food and all the flowers and all the loving caresses, the profound truth is that a man is dying. 

I am hardly talking to Hans about anything other than how his physical body feels. I promise myself that tomorrow I will only talk about the weightier things that make him who he is. He has an apostolic heart and for him the only thing that matters is that the church is  built according to the standard of Jesus Christ. It is his life's work and throughout the years, I could not engage him (or distract him) in any other thing but this. I must no longer know Hans after the flesh, but only after the Spirit—the same immortal Spirit which will quicken his  body in the great resurrection of the dead. 

Think upon these things.