Welcome Home, Sorry to See You Go
Last Friday evening, my parents finally arrived from LA. My father, discharged from the hospital earlier that morning, gritted his teeth, mastered his pain, and boarded his plane to make it here. Finally. Unfortunately, the time my father spent in his new home was short lived. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Ten. These were the approximate minutes to get my father from: His wheelchair to the car … The car to his wheelchair … His wheelchair to the commode … The commode to the bed … “We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, ”Blessed are they that mourn.” C. S. Lewis This house that we’ve so labored over so that it meets my parents’ needs went largely unseen by my father his first…