Peace and love to you all.
If you have spent even five minutes around my dad, you will know at least one indelible fact about him: he loves words. He loves finding new words and definitions and pulling them out as trivia. More than a few times, he came home from a Cabinet meeting and told us about his grand victory in stumping the others there with new words or facts. His love of language and words is something that he not so much passed down to me through actions but poured into me through simply giving me life. As you may have guessed from reading the last few blog entries here, I am also a fan of words and the meanings they have.
This evening's update is about words. Specifically, the way that words change meaning and how they are beyond important when it comes to accuracy. This afternoon, when Mom and I visited Dad (after Adam and I did our clothes-switcharoo), we were able to speak with the neurologist. He was kind but straight-forward, which is something we appreciate, and was precise with his words. He mentioned how there is some concern about the cortex of the brain and why they are running more CT scans and keeping him under sedation to moderate his temperature. All things that are scary, no matter the words that are used.
However, I'm finding myself drawn to focusing on the words he did not use. He did not say severe. He did not say significant. He did not say total. He did not say extreme or any other variation of that sort of word. He did say some but some is most assuredly NOT all. It is also not none but there are still small victories. For me, that he did not explain what has been noticed in such dire terms gives me hope.
The other words that matter right now, even more than those, are the words that all of you have been sending and speaking and thinking and praying about my father and about us. There was a moment today when my mom and brother felt a kind of peace and knew that it was through your prayers and thoughts that it came upon them. We have felt many different things throughout the last few days: fear, anger, sadness, grief, worry. The one thing we have absolutely not felt, though, is alone. You are with us and continue to be with us through this and we are eternally grateful and thankful for your presence in our lives.
I'll leave you for this evening with these words to pray for peace and comfort.
O Lord, we are at the limits of our power to help. For what we have left undone, forgive us. For what you have helped us to do, we thank you. For what must be done by others, lend your strength. Now shelter us in your peace which passes our understanding.
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.