Considering It ALL Joy

What a week it’s been!

One week ago, I was peacefully sleeping in an inn in the Cotswolds, where I was doing research for next year’s trip, when my husband called at 2 a.m. to tell my that my mom had passed away. Thus began one of the craziest weeks of my life.

Monday – quickly got a flight home from England.

Tuesday – unpacked, did laundry, repacked

Wednesday – flew to TX for what I thought would be a short trip to plan Mom’s memorial service with my dad and sisters.

Thursday – Dad not feeling well; diagnosed with Covid. I decide to stay to care for my dad through his quarantine.

Friday – Dad gets antibody infusion at the local hospital. My dad is 84, so his reaction was ROUGH—confusion, exhaustion, weakness. Very scary night.

Saturday – Dad sleeps most of the morning, but wakes in the afternoon feeling much better. I keep pushing food and fluids.

Sunday – Praise God! He’s almost back to normal! He showers, dresses, and even makes his bed. I cannot believe the difference.

I also cannot believe that my mom has been gone from us for one week. It’s been such a whirlwind, and at some point I’ll be able to write more about it and reflect. For now, every plan we made has been put on hold. Every plan I had for my few days at home had to be changed. I’m here with my dad for another week with about four changes of clothes—ha!

But you know what? The Lord is speaking to me in these days. He’s reminding me that he knew this would happen—it’s no surprise to him. And he is giving me the strength I need for each day. I am learning in a whole new way what the Bible means when it says, “the Lord is near to the brokenhearted.” He truly is.

This morning I read James 1, which talks about how real Christians react under trial. I listed out all the ways I should be living right now, reminding myself, through the power of God’s word, who I am and who I should be in Christ.

Joyful.

Humble.

Steadfast.

The list goes on until it reaches the end of the chapter where it reminds me that real Christians care for the weak and vulnerable, the widows and the orphans. God has given me a chance to do that this week—to care for my dad in his time of need. And he is showing me that this week is not a week to complain or begrudge; it’s a privilege to stand in the gap for Jesus and care for my dad.

I don’t say this lightly. I can be the most whiney, the most complainey. But God has been speaking to my heart this week, and I’m listening. I’m grateful, because I’m beginning to see this trial as God’s way of showing me that he cares about me—so much so that he is still working on my heart.

Maybe, at 58, I’m finally becoming mature.