We have been back in Texas since Sunday night. Our whole family (and in whole family, I mean the ENTIRE Nebraska family) was home in Nebraska, as Dad was in the hospital so that they could repair a hole in his esophogus that the tumor had caused. His surgery went better than expected, and by Friday, he was back home in Lewiston. He's not able to do a whole lot, as he gets winded really quickly, but a few more days, weeks, months--that's a few more days, weeks, months.
I remember when we first found out about Dad's lung cancer two years ago and Karin prayed with me on the steps of the church. And she told me that God had his hands in this, and that I should be watching for them. Well, God's here, for sure. As many times as we've heard the bad, sad news that the C-word brings on, God had gotten us here, two years later, and Dad is still living and breathing our earthly air. What I've come to realize is that it's not our plan. He didn't ask us what we wanted or how we'd like for this whole thing to play out. He's just asked us play our part.
Now, for someone who loves to plan and be in control, this isn't an easy lesson to learn. But isn't it kind of nice to think that we just get to tag along for the ride? And that God's got it all figured out already, for us.
"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perserverence" --Romans 5:3
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