Trial.

If I could count the times I said life was hard in the past, I'd go back to each of those times and call myself a brat. Because all those times were nothing more than hiccups and this is the disease.

Watching this episode unfold is like sitting in a plane that's about to crash, but I can't take over the piloting. It's noticing signs of a tsunami but I can't run fast enough to escape it. It's falling off a skyscraper but I have nothing to break the fall.

Pa, I miss you. I know the medical reports say you will never be the same, that you can never do the things you once did freely, that you may never get back on your feet again. But I will believe that you can, and you will. By His wounds, you will be healed.  

Pa, I miss the phone calls when you ask us to have dinner and you can never decide where. I miss you lying on the couch in your homey shorts, falling asleep with the tv on. I miss you insisting that I have the last piece of fish. I miss you asking if I have enough money to use and giving me extra even if I tell you I have more than enough.

Pa, please don't be afraid. I know it hurts to be in that state of not being able to move, to speak, to even stretch. I know it's terrifying but we are here. We haven't left your side and i promise, we are never going to. We are here, waiting to take you home. Don't be afraid, because God is with you. Don't be afraid, because you will be okay, I promise.

In Jesus' name, you will be healed, papa. And when you are, we will bring you home.