Patience is a Virtue

The past week has been one of the longest weeks of my life. We have waited. We have prayed, we have cried, we have hoped, we have lived. We have survived on little sleep, poor diets and broken hearts. We have waited.

Today, we still wait. Today, we wonder. We hope. We hope for peace. Each day we watch him decline. We watch seziures that result in the brain damage. We pray for him to find peace. We pray for him to let go. We pray that whatever is keeping his body and spirit from moving on, comes soon. We pray for each other. We try to go to work and about our lives as best we can, knowing what the outcome is going to be. We know it's just a matter of time.

I don't believe that some miracle will occur and that Papa will wake up and be really made that we have sold his stuff to pay for his funeral expenses. I don't believe that he is going to wake up one day and be able to speak and talk to us. I believe that death is inevitable.

But what right do I have to not believe in anything? What right to I have to not believe in a miracle? What right to have not to believe in general?

I know when my husband has a severe wreck that I prayed that he was OK. I prayed that he would be ok. I prayed that the people in the other car would be ok. When my dad had a heart attack, I prayed. I hoped that he would be ok. I hoped that he would slow down, I hoped he would be around for a while longer.

Yet each sickness and each event that has occured within the last week, I have simply asked that God's will be done. His will. Not mine. His. It's not that I don't want Papa to be around for another 50 years, but each time I find myself praying, I start out asking for his comfort and his peace, and then I find myself telling God that his will be done. Not mine. His.

So for the past few days I have wondered how differently my thoughts, my faith, my marriage, and my life in general would have been if I had prayed for things differently. If I took the control out of my hands and put it back completely where it belongs. I'm a control freak by nature, I like to know what's going on, and offer my opinion on how to fix it. I like to know what's happening at 2pm tomorrow and the day after that. I like structure, routine, control. Then that gets me to questioning my infertility. I have always said that it was all up to God, but that's been one of many areas of my life that I just haven't been willing to turn over. That I haven't been willing to let go of. Sure, we go about our daily lives, but there is always a part of me that wants a baby, I grieve for the child that I have never had. After the past week, I have been led to wonder what would happen if I handed the control back over. If I let go.

The situation with Papa is definitely in someone else's hands now. We continue to pray, we continue to hope that his comfortable, and that he is at peace.

Still we wonder? What's God waiting for? What's the big plan? What are we missing?