November seems to be the unofficial month of gratitude, all due to Thanksgiving. Personally, I think our society needs to get better about expressing our gratitude the other 11 months of the year as well…but that’s just me.
Sometimes it feels like so much of this blog is me looking back. I guess it’s only natural when there are so many things over the course of the past 2 years that have truly shaped the person that is sitting here today typing this.
Instead of hopping on the bandwagon and sharing one grateful thing every day in November, I wanted to wait and share my greatest gratitude on one day. One particular day, in fact. November 19. If you have followed this blog for any length of time (and if you do…hi there!), then you will know some of what I have experienced since 2013. The loss of two of my dad’s siblings ten days apart, followed by a stressful school year at work with an aggressive, emotionally-draining, but very special little boy, and more recently, the loss of my beloved Grandmother and Aunt two days apart this past September. But there’s been something that I haven’t really talked about here.
One year ago, on November 19th, my Dad was admitted to the hospital.
His hospital stay lasted six days and he was discharged two days before Thanksgiving. When your dad comes from a family of six and his father, brother, and sister all died of cancer…your anxiety flares and worry begins to creep in. Thankfully, what was ailing my Dad was not cancer, rather, an auto-immune disorder that had been attacking his kidneys, but you can imagine that worry that was felt and the prayers that were prayed.
Those were probably the longest six days that we had ever experienced. There is something very strange about seeing your father in a hospital bed and your mother looking so scared yet still staying strong for everyone. My one consolation was the fact that, despite his ailments, my Dad was probably the healthiest looking one on the whole floor. From the outside, you would have never guessed he was sick.
The fact that I have my Dad still with me today and sitting in the other room, fills me with a gratitude that is indescribable. For days and weeks we prayed for answers to what was ailing him and that it would be treatable. Our prayers were answered and then some.
If I have learned anything in the past two years, it is that in those moments when we feel broken down to nothing, those are the moments in which the Lord is doing some of His greatest work in us. As much as I wish the pain of the past two years didn’t happen, it has molded and shaped me in ways I never imagined. I recently discovered Clayton King and his amazing book, Stronger, and it is there that he phrases it perfectly.