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a passionate repentance

My father is in a special facility now. He was in the hospital. He's…

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may God stand
My father is in a special facility now. He was in the hospital.

He's improving, but there's some distance to go. I thought I could write about this easily but now the words won't come.

They're treating him. His oncologist (I think it's his oncologist) says he has another tumor. This one's longer, about five centimeters. Mom thinks it could be scar tissue from where they went in to take the last tumor.

He's in detox. Lucid in the morning, and pissy at night. Mom's tired. Trish says there isn't a lot of time left. But then, I don't know. I hope. I hope because I don't know what else to do but hope. And pray.

Ridiculously, the littlest things make my spirit rise or fall. I was so disappointed that something I want to find, I cannot find--a CD by a Georgian singer, living in Paris-Nana Peradzhe, I think her name is. I don't know. And then I found this:

And I laughed and laughed. Because I could see the same glee in the lamb as I would have in a child.
  • It's not ridiculous at all. When the big things in life are beyond our control, the little things seem to become more important. We grab on to what we can understand for what comfort it can give us.

    I'm sorry that things have been so rough for you lately. If there is anything I can do to help, I'll gladly do it. I'm always willing to listen if you find later that the words will come after all.
  • I'm so sorry; I will say prayers for you. Hope is a wonderful, sustaining, and blessed thing.

    And it's not ridiculous, as your friend said. We find joy where it is, where we need it, and comfort comes in all shapes and sizes. Pain, disappointment - they come in all shapes and sizes, too.

    You will be in my thoughts. *hugs*
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