At the very highest point of our property, there is a perfect spot to watch the sunset. It was there, last night, that I snapped this, and sent it to my dad.
Dad is the world-champion sunset viewer. He’s viewed thousands of them, enthralled every single time by the varying shades of coral and wheat and sometimes even purple, against the waning azure sky. Small and concentrated, or wide and sweeping, he loves them all.
As I sat up there, praying for him, and my sweet mom (her championship skills lying in the nurturing and care-giving department), I struggled with accepting that they are in their sunset years. Certainly, (and Lord willing) their sun isn’t dropping completely, any time soon, but as I’ve grown older, so have they. It’s hard to reconcile it in my mind; after all, wasn’t I just 10, and walking home from the Texas Pool, spotting my soaked-in-sweat dad in white t-shirt and work pants, mowing the lawn in the blazing heat? Wasn’t I just a teenager, horrified (but secretly thrilled) when he came home from work, after fighting downtown traffic, and swooped in on my mom at the stove, giving a her a big kiss?
Time has gotten away from all of us, and bodies have begun to betray the souls they carry. Well, maybe not betray, because that implies doing so with purpose, but what once worked as a finely-tuned machine doesn’t any more. I know I have a few things that don’t seem to function as well as they once did, and Dad isn’t exempt from this either. He has Vasculitis of the brain, not as common as other varieties and much more difficult to treat. His ears complicate the problem with Hyperacusis (severe sensitivity to sound), and the two coupled together create massive, horrible headaches, which now plague him about 90% of the time.
After a bad fall, and the subsequent drop of white blood cell counts, he had to abandon the chemo treatment he was taking. It was just too risky, and there weren’t many other options. His doctors came up with a Plan B, however, and he begins a new treatment today. It has no record with his form of vasculitis, but has proven successful for other forms. We are hopeful and Dad is EXCITED. He should know pretty quickly whether or not it’s going to work, so we covet prayers and thank you in advance.
When I sent him this picture last night, it turned out that he was watching the very same sunset through his hospital window, and I smiled that the Lord would gift him with a westward-facing room. But really, that’s just like Him. He not only holds the paint brush and the pocket watch that provide us the glory of the western sky every night, but the very same that control the sunsets of our lives. I’m thankful that all I have to do is look at that horizon and I know my dad (and mom) are in the very best of Hands.
“The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help.He rescues them from all their troubles.The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.The righteous person faces many troubles,but the Lord comes to the rescue each time.” Psalm 34:17-19 NLT
“And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” Psalm 4:19 ESV
“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3 ESV
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” Philippians 4:13 ESV
this made me cry …
Tom’s coming to see the Chisholm reunion (our loud rock and roll band) with your Mom in spite of his Hyperacusis, was a wonderful compliment to all of us. Praying the new treatment helps – and your parents are in my prayers constantly.
Praying for your parents and the success of this new treatment.
With a big lump in my throat, I say thank you, once again, for another sweet post!! We Love you!!