For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 29:11-13

On Monday, I knew when I walked into the room it was going to be my dad’s last night with us. Startled, my stepmom looked up at me from her position at his side. She had a nearly unreadable expression on her face. One I have never seen before. She quietly suggested that I might not want to see my dad like this. Because if any of you have seen impending death, it’s not all that pretty. It’s loud, and gray, and each minute that passes is suffocating in its grief. Keeping watch is exhausting. It’s all dark circles and red, puffy eyes. It’s all praying the Lord’s Prayer because you just can’t think of anything else to say to God that you haven’t already said. Too tired to beg and too sad to talk about hope just yet.


He took his last breath at about 9:27 p.m. It wasn’t dramatic; drama just wasn’t really his style. We left my stepmom to say goodbye on her own, and when she was done, I went and sat in the room. Nothing about those moments strikes me quite so much as how quiet it suddenly was. No breath, no machines, no TV. Just me sitting in dim light pondering where I go from here.
I was asking God the other day, “Why?” Just one of those questions that most people who have lost someone ask.


“Why? Why can’t I just be like other people? Why couldn’t my parents have died when they were old?”


And I felt an impression again (you know I’ve talked about it before).

Because I don’t want you to be like other people, I want you to be extraordinary.


As I walked out the door of the hospice house and started the car the world outside seemed a little darker, the night enveloping the car, snow from a looming blizzard starting to swirl in the path my headlights cut into the night. I drove slowly, carefully, knowing that many tears will fall, but sometimes you just have to drive through the stormy night to get to the place you really want to be.