Peace and love to you all.
No real updates today, honestly. We have a Care Conference set up for tomorrow afternoon. In that meeting, we'll talk with all the doctors and providers that have taken care of my dad this past week, get a sense of where they are at, and maybe start the process of decision-making. Until then, though, we remain in Limbo.
To us, it feels kind of like going through the process of flying. No, not the packing bags and making sure they weigh exactly the right amount. No, not going through security where every nook and cranny is inspected. No, not sitting around, eating aggressively-mediocre airport breakfasts. It's more like being on the plane and waiting to take off.
If you've flown, you've been through the experience. Crammed like mask-wearing sardines into a steel tube that, essentially, goes into the sky like magic. (I'm a Communication doctor, not a physics doctor...sue me). The air conditioning coming and goes in spurts and fits to the point that you're either baking like a Thanksgiving turkey or frozen like...well, like a Thanksgiving turkey before it's been cooked. Some child in the back of the plane howling at precisely the same pitch as an air raid siren. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
That, in essence, is where we are now. We're waiting on that plane. We have no control and all we can do is trust in the pilots and what they are doing. And no matter what they decide, we know they will bring us to the right place.
Thank you for being on this journey with us. You're sharing your headphones, giving us a snack, and listening to us talk instead of just putting on your sunglasses and sleeping through the announcements. We are so grateful to you and all you have done for us. You are loved beyond measure.
I'll leave you today with another prayer.
God, you are the love of my soul. You are kind, you are the only true King. You are the only true God, and I put myself in your hands. You have turned your eyes to me. You believed me and were happy with me. God, you long for unity with me and improve the work you have begun in me. You are a loving Father; you know me well. You know how you created me. You know what steps are planned for my future. Because you know everything, and I trust you so I can rest in your shadow. God, since you love me, I can trust that your intentions are beneficial to me. Also, when I don’t see, understand, or worry, I can believe your truth. Your plans are the best for me, and you will be faithful. Amen.
After 43 years of ministry, Randy Cross lived his "fourth life" and shared about retirement, living boldly and intentionally in our world. To be sure, there was some North Dakota thrown in.