I’m here in the hospital struggling w/my memories of losing both my mother and father here. I knew it was going to be an issue, but life needs to look different now. My wife likes this place, and so many of my friends have this as a happy place. For me, I remember the food (so much better today) – the food that was the stuff the legends were made of. I remember how my mother asked the oncology staff to never take her plate because she knew my father would be coming to visit after his 2 jobs. I know that I witnessed true love in its harshest as a child – perhaps it took until today to really understand it. I know what it’s like to sacrificially forge forward in life – throwing away the useless, but holding on unyieldingly to the things that matter. Welcome son – to a heart that seeks healing – but cannot cease but love you.
It makes it perhaps fathomable the love Christ has for me. Still I know that I don’t understand. I really can’t imagine giving up a child for the love of anything – much less a stranger. How can I still be this bad and wretched?
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