A weekend of uncertainty.
The hand of God in life’s unexpected moments.
The last weekend of February began so routinely. It’s not that I fly all the time; that was out of the ordinary, but there was nothing that might have clued me into what the next several hours and days would hold. It was my dad’s birthday weekend, one which would see my family rejoice as he celebrated turning sixty. The church at which he has served as the pastor since the late 1990s had already made a number of behind-the-scenes preparations to surprise my dad with a special dinner in appreciation of him and God’s grace to him. I was to be a part of this, as my dad made a special request that I preach for him. Preparing and delivering a sermon is always a privilege, but doubly so when I am afforded the opportunity to do so at the church where my dad ministers, the church where I grew up.
On this occasion, I was traveling alone. With the wife and kids holding down the fort, I packed up a single backpack and headed out on Saturday to catch an early morning flight. I passed rather ordinarily through security and boarded the first leg of my travels from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to Philadelphia, which lasted roughly as long as it took you to read that last paragraph. After some disappointing coffee and a layover that felt longer than it should have, I boarded my connecting flight to Greenville, South Carolina. No sooner had I found my seat next to the window did my phone start vibrating. My sister was calling me, which wasn’t out of the ordinary since she was scheduled to pick me up from the airport. But this phone call wasn’t about arrival times and pickup logistics. This was different.
She proceeded to tell me that my dad had suffered a stroke and was in the hospital with, at the time, a cloud of unknowns swirling around him. It’s hard to describe the surreality that came over me while I sat on the tarmac. I barely remember the rest of the phone call, let alone the rest of that flight. When my sister hung up, it almost didn’t feel real. I can recall legitimately questioning whether or not that conversation actually happened. But after arriving in Greenville, it wasn’t my imagination at all. My sister and brother-in-law whisked me to the hospital where Dad had been admitted. I learned that he had suffered a hemorrhage in the right lower quadrant of his brain. What was curious was that there were no precipitating warning signs; it quite literally came out of nowhere.
The rest of that Saturday proceeded with no small amount of worry and concern over what might be next. There were so many unknowns at that point. The only prognosis we were given was “Wait and see,” which is what we all did. It’s not like we had a choice, though. We were waiting, hoping, and praying that God would preserve my dad’s life and health — and that’s exactly what he did.
As hard as it might be to describe the sinking feeling that flooded me on that flight, it’s even harder to articulate the flood of encouragement my family received throughout the weekend. Texts and phone calls provided a necessary distraction, as friends and acquaintances came out of the woodwork to share their support and their prayers. What I can tell you is that my dad was undoubtedly and unmistakably sustained in the care of the Lord. The grace and mercy of God were so evident in so many ways, not the least of which is the fact that my dad has emerged out of this ordeal with little to no side-effects. A fact that has left family and physicians rather speechless. The type of stroke he suffered should have resulted in a series of life-altering changes. But so far, none of those have materialized, which is a testimony to God’s infinite and unmerited favor.
Dad is at home now, recuperating and recovering in the peace and comfort one’s own house provides. What began as a wild and grievous birthday weekend ended up being a platform upon which the Lord’s gracious hand was abundantly manifested. Thinking about those hours of aching confusion and witnessing the work of God through it all still gives me goosebumps. It has renewed my certainty in the efficacy of prayer. No, praying can’t change the mind or will of God, but it can and does minister relief to those who are fretful and distressed. I saw the church in action, near and far. Friends from all walks of life reached out during this difficult time, which is precisely when you need the grace of good company. I am so grateful for how I’ve seen God work, in my own life, in the lives of others, and my dad’s life most of all.
Thank you for your prayers and your notes of encouragement. They were a godsend. My heart is full. Grace and peace to you!