Just writing the title, I begin again to tear. Just writing Godpapa.
I’m afraid everything is colored sorrow at the moment. We are in the midst of an immense battle for life, through prayer. My son’s Godfather, whom I posted about a few weeks ago, has had an awful turn for the worse. During the recovery, after his surgery, something–many things–went awry, and only a miracle now, today, will bring him home to us. I continue to pray.
My son leaves for Seattle, for a new life and adventure in college in just a few days. He and I made the long trek down the coast of Southern California, through the stop-and-go traffic, to USC’s Keck Hospital to see his godfather. Once there, we scurried up the stairs and entered the ICU where everyone works in hushed tones and monitors beep, and patients are fighting for their lives. I have to say, Deacon Howard’s room, his wife Gail curled into a chair, his daughter massaging his feet, was a haven of love and beauty and even home. We brought a handmade Saint Brigid’s cross, one from this lovely night (Deacon Howard is pictured in one of the photos–he has the most awesome white mustache!), and a bag of fresh peaches for Gail.
Bless him! I held his hand, and kissed his arm, and rubbed his feet. We prayed, and talked, and my son’s eyes grew redder and redder, and we all cried together, and spoke words of peace. But the sorrow hangs heavy. The doctors were all there–all huddled–all looking beaten and grave. Mother Viktoria was there, too–thank God. Thank God.
Today is the day for a miracle, folks!
And it’s another day for giving thanks.
I’m thankful for: Deacon Howard and Gail, and all the love they’ve showed us as a family, and the special attention they’ve given my son, Andrew. I’m thankful for the people who filled in for me so I could take Andrew to the hospital–picking up the other kids, tending to them, etc… I’m thankful for prayer and the comfort it brings. I’m thankful for a community that bands together like glue when need be; I’m thankful for the fountain and the sunshine outside my office, offering sweet notes of light and encouragement to me today. I’m grateful to all of you who have whispered prayers on Deacon Howard’s behalf. And I’m comforted to know that Heaven is just a wisp away, and that death opens a door to that place where all the saints stand, cheering us along!
I ask your continued prayers…