On the bumpy road of life there are many things that can hold us back. I think the fear of how people interpret the truth about how we feel is one of those things. Written words often come with what some believe to be "hidden messages" . Writing can seem passive-aggressive, when in reality, if you could be in the room with the writer, often times its an emotional, heartfelt compilation of the life events they feel convicted to share, even if its not shiny and pretty the way we would all like our lives to be. Sometimes, the comments, emails and criticism I get from my social media pages, my blog and my shared journal entries are due to lack of facing the ugly truth that we are all human.
Sometimes I just screw up. I am more than willing to admit that. Sometimes, I am misinterpreted, and sometimes I am convicting in what I have to say. (most of the time I have no idea about this one) I do not set out to hurt anyone, betray trust or cause conflict. I just write what is on my heart. Prayerfully, emotionally and sometimes with great reservation . With that, I have some things today that are on my heart, that I want to share with you, and its the hard stuff.
On April 27, I was doing my thing at work, and I got a message. My parents wanted to see my husband and I. Right away. I knew something was amiss, yet I was trying not to panic. After work it was revealed to me ( by a gross graphic picture- thanks dad) that my dad had a tumor at the base of his esophagus. It was most likely malignant, and it was the cause of his heartburn, inability to eat much of anything, and unrest. Taking cues from dad and his AMAZING ability to keep his cool, I responded with "So where do we go from here?"
Where we ended up is where I stand now. Dad has been in the hospital for 3 days. He was malnourished and dehydrated. He hasn't shared an actual meal with us for weeks. He has lost a ton of weight and is weak. His spirits go from great to super low, and his body is just out of whack. Chemotherapy and radiation are over, and he is in that re healing process, where you have to heal from your treatment to have the tumor removed.
It apparently is a whole thing and I guess we are just supposed to deal with it.
Except what I really want to do is scream. At the doctors. At God. At my family, my church and this entire world. MY dad cannot be going through this. He. Just. Cannot.
He is the one they call when they need something. He is the one that gives and gives and gives of himself until there is nothing left. My mom is suffering while she watches her husband of 43 years whither away physically and mentally. It is taking its toll. My biggest question throughout this entire process?
Where is everyone?
Where are you family?
Where are you church?
Where are you friends?
Why does my mom go for days without hearing from anyone except the 5 of us that call her everyday? Why is no one offering to bring a meal, mow the grass, pray in person or sit on the patio and talk? What has happened that has changed us so much in the last 20 years that my parents are literally in the fight of their lives and they are left on their own for the most part?
My husband and I have been members of the same church our entire married lives. I have been there since I was 8. I was expecting more.
My dad has 6 siblings. I have over 30 first cousins, not counting spouses and their children. I was expecting more.
My parents and my brother and I have many friends. I was expecting more.
I expect too much.
I sit here with my Bible open, my prayers jumbled. I sit here thinking I would like to walk away from all of it, yet knowing I won't. I am angry, hurt, frustrated. I am tired of feeling like I have to live up to the expectation of everyone else, when very few are willing to do the same for me.
My dad being sick is inconvenient for us, too. We have jobs, children, grandchildren, responsibilities. We did not plan on spending our summer this way, and neither did he and mom. But this is where we are, and this is where we will be.