Pam was laid off from her Fancy Corporate Job in December and is enjoying everything about it except the pay. She blogs about her adventures in gardening and thrifty living at www.brownthumbmama.com.
The call came during a quiet afternoon at work. “Honey? It’s Mom. I need you to come to the hospital. Dad needs emergency surgery.” I told my boss I was leaving and zipped down the freeway to them.
The words repeated over and over in my head. They had diagnosed him with pneumonia in the emergency room, but I figured a few days in the hospital would set him right.
I got another call from Mom that night. Dad had recovered from surgery and was breathing fine with the ventilator. He would stay in ICU until he could breathe without the vent during the day.
We visited him every day—Mom and me, his brothers and sisters, family friends. The only one who couldn’t visit him was James, my 4-year-old son and his only grandchild. Dad had to be out of ICU before James could visit.
I was worried and afraid about James visiting Dad. I didn’t want him to be scared of all the wires and tubes. There were monitors and alarms connected to the equipment and Dad was stuck in the hospital bed.
A friend suggested that I take a picture of Dad in the hospital to show James. That way, he could ask questions and process his thoughts before the visit. He looked at the picture, said, “Yep, that’s Grandpa,” and kept on playing.
I worried. I was sure he would be upset, curious, or fearful. I thought he would ask me a thousand difficult questions that all started with “Why?” The only question he asked was when he could visit.
It was 47 days until Dad was out of ICU and they could see each other.
Finally, the day came. Nervous and upset, I put on a brave face. How would he react? Would he hide behind me, away from the beeping alarms and monitors? Would he refuse to go near Dad?
Nope! He hopped right up on the hospital bed and showed off a book he got for Christmas. They talked about racecars, trains, and football. All the wires and tubes didn’t bother him one bit.
I thought I knew what he was thinking. I assumed I knew what was going on in his head. And yet I was proven wrong.
How many times do we think we know what we need, or what to ask God for? We think we can orchestrate the world according to our plans. But we don’t know what’s going on in His head…what His plan is and how everything will work out.
All those years of Catholic school, catechism, Bible study. And who teaches me to listen to God’s call? A little child.