Definately see ya later, Dad

After what seems like the most painful week next to Dad, in bad pain at times, and getting worse so gradually, he finally entered into heaven on Sunday morning. He is healed in the most ultimate way now.

At 5.30 we gathered round his bed and had an amazing prayer time.  Not praying for his soul (cos we were sure of where that had gone) but thanking God for his life and praying for God to be in our situation. As I looked at my Daddy without breath it really hit home in a sad but hopeful way that the real him wasnt there anymore - just his body.

I had spent quite a few days in that nursing home desperately wondering what God was up to, in terms of the timing, but the more we think about it now we realise it was His perfect timing.  The day before, my sister and mum saw a sunset and key visitors arrived  - a close friend and his Father (95yrs) and brother. That evening we watched last night of the Proms and I sang along to most of the tunes. When it came to 'You will never walk alone' both my sister and I sang it to our Dad together (to us it is not so symbolic of football as with everyone else) and he opened his eyes for a few seconds for the final time - wow emotional!

Also, we reached the point (of instead of just thinking it) we were actually saying out loud: "Its ok you can go to heaven now, you can go with Jesus and you can trust us to Him too, we love you, goodbye."

At one stage I was concerned about how we may need to read the Bible and remind Dad about Jesus' truth so he doesn't forget.  My incredible and wise sister just said: "we don't need to remind him. Jesus is written right across his heart." Of course - If we hadnt talked about Jesus all week it wouldnt have changed a thing.

I feel like the word we would choose for this situation is not 'relieved' but 'released'. Throughout his illness Dad had spontaneously burst into a rendition of 'Rejoice in the Lord always' or 'Praise God from whom all blessings flow' - now he is singing worship forever more, he is loving it and how cool.

You know in those ghost films when the person raises up and looks down on their family crying over their body? - it entered into my head, at the time, that maybe Dad could see us doing that.  Then those thoughts were quashed with a reassuring discussion about how he would be so overwhelmed with seeing Jesus face to face that why on earth would he look back at us or this broken world when he has moved to God's house!

Heaven must be indescribable. We have also been talking about (which kind of twists your mind a little) the thought that God and heaven are outside earthly time. Therefore I believe that Dad wont be waiting up there for years going, "heaven is fun and all that but when are my family going to get here?" We reckon it would feel like we are arriving together.

So we are very sad yes and life will never be the same again but we will choose to be thankful, keep singing (even if through gritted teeth) and know that His will is perfect.



So it isnt goodbye forever, it is definately 'see ya later'.

Tensions and Timing

What a tough week!

For the last few days we have been living (except actually sleeping for me and my sister) at the nursing home. This is set to continue till the weekend at least. After a deterioration last Saturday the doctors announced that we were on the final stretch and should prepare to lose Dad within a week. 

Most people including medical staff have absolutely no idea what the last 14 months have been like for us all and that really we have been preparing and kind of grieving in part since the diagnosis day  - such a rollercoaster of different phases, personalities, symptoms and circumstances.

Our Vicar came this lunch time and as a family we shared communion. It was really special. The readings that he shared were so relevant as they reflected the tensions we have to hold together. It was a memory I will treasure.

The tension that we, in our suffering, are crying out to God to help us but yet we stand sure of our eternal security and hope and are thankful for his presence.

And the other tension - the longing for Dad to stay with us against the very real and honest desire for him to go now and to be released from his pain.

All this time I have been petrified about the pain and heartache of loss I would feel when it actually happened and this has not really changed. I also realise that despite how prepared we should be after all this time I suddenly feel totally unprepared. However today I found myself praying for God to take him quickly. The hardest thing would be for us to have to continue this for weeks still as he is in discomfort. However it is all in His timing and I just have to accept that.

There are 2 tracks of healing - one to full physical healing and health and one to death and full healing in heaven. There is no better place for Dad than in the presence of Jesus seeing him face to face. Sometimes it is easy to forget about the excitement about heaven when we cant see past our sadness on earth.
I was sad to hear the news of the death of a little 18 month old Quinn who had been prayed for by so many people but that family are holding on to a God who is faithful even when we dont understand and feel a little faith-less.

The other day I went out for a walk with Dad in the wheelchair and he joined in with me and we sang my favourite song 'Faithful One' So relevant and special to me at this time.

Faithful One so unchanging

Ageless One You’re my rock of peace
Lord of all I depend on You
I call out to You, again and again
I call out to You, again and again

You are my rock in times of trouble
You lift me up when I fall down
All through the storm
Your love is the anchor
My hope is in You alone

This evening a family friend reminded me about a phrase from Pete Grieg's book God on Mute.  We are desperate for God to airlift us out of the situation but then we realise that Jesus has Parachuted in to the situation and with us.

If you pray , please pray for peace for Dad and for us all at this time.