Written May 12, 2013
Come to me Lord, I will not speculate how.
Come to me Lord,Â come any way, come now.
George McDonald, Diary for an old Soul
With these words the liturgist leads us into the silence that begins our Sunday Morning Gathering at our church.
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Dad has been home has been home with us now for a few weeks after his hip fracture, surgery and four weeks in rehab. Unable to ever return to his studio apartment at an independent living facility, where he has been living since my mom died 5 years ago, our home is now his home.
We have been noticing the decline and so has he, telling me a few months ago, â€œI feel like I am winding down and you canâ€™t wind down forever.â€Â We knew it was coming, but thought we had more time until the fall that broke his hip.
Content to be here, he is also unable to understand the upheaval we are going through as we adjust to 24/7 care for him.
We take turns going to church now.Â Today is my turn. Sitting here with my community calms my aching, anxious heart.Â How will we do this?Â He has no money and we’ve just lost my retirement.
Back to those words:
“Come to me, Lord: I will not speculate how,
Nor think at which door I would have thee appear,
Nor put off calling till my floors be swept,
But cry, “Come, Lord, come any way, come now.”
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â George MacDonald, Diary for an Old Soul
Those words, “Come, Lord, come any way, come now”Â catch my attention, and I am unsure what they mean for me – what they have to do with this intense season of care-giving in which I so unexpectedly find myself. I only sense I am to pay attention.
The words return to me throughout the day and into the evening. Dad is in bed and the house is quiet. I am here alone with him for the next three days.
Instead of turning on the TV and watching Law and Order SVU, as I often do on a Sunday evening, I spend time meditating on these words.
â€œCome to me, Lord: I will not speculate how.â€
And still I have no idea.
â€œCome Lord, come any way, come now.â€
How long, Lord?
If you do come
will I know it is you?
How will I know?
I pick up my pen, a sketch pad and â€œtangleâ€.Â As I do, the words work their way into my heart, although I sill am not sure what they mean for me, for this time..
The next morning as I am putting on my dadâ€™s shoes for him, the ones until a month ago, he could put on himself, I hear the words of Jesus â€œIn as much as you do it to the least of these, you are doing it unto me.â€
And I know.
Jesus has come to me in my Dad’s shoeless feet.
UPDATE: God provided a caregiver.Â Â She needed a place to land for awhile and had a special place in her heart for the elderly, having taken care of both of her parents before they died.Â We had a place and needed help.Â She lived with us during the 15 months Dad lived with us inÂ return for 10 hours of Elder Care per week.Â We got to go to church together and out on an occasional date. Another dear friend came by once a week for a couple hours, staying with my Dad who was her pastor years ago, blessing her, she says and blessing me, giving me time to devote to my writing.
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(Note: In this post you find a Zentangle Inspired Art Piece.Â Â ZentangleÂ© is an easy-to-learn, relaxing, and fun way to create images by drawing structured patterns. I use this method sometimes as I ponder a scripture or a thought that God seems to be showing me.)