Quiet day, not really.
Taxes, coffee grinder repair, not enough sleep. I started the week helping one friend go homeless, the week ends helping another leave a violent home.
I continue to break on the rocks of longing for “the way.” I feel like that ocean, I feel like those rocks.
Waking was a struggle again, its own kind today, but familiar nonetheless. Meditation… No call from LB. I sent him some guidance anyway by text.
The sun is at eye level now. Golden and maybe even a little orange.
There are not many words today. The phone rang this morning, on the way up, podcast paused, David, in Virginia organizing his wits on his father’s care. Text messages chirping here, my brother in Montana, informing the wits of myself and other brothers and sisters of my father’s care.
Biopsy went well. He left the hospital today. Perhaps results on Monday. Lymphoma undoubtedly. The nature of which, yet unknown.
“Dad had a lot of different medical issues which are fairly insurmountable. I don't imagine he will be seeking further medical treatments. He needs to be on oxygen at a fairly high volume 24/7. I believe this condenser is running at 4 currently. He will not be leaving Missoula.”
From the sounds of it, my father’s attitude is fairly stoic. I am envisioning him now, up the Blackfoot Valley, just gazing out at the grasses and forested hillsides and big sky beyond.
I’ve probably said before, I think the greatest gift he has given me is his love for the land. Looking at these San Diego hillsides, I know that the land loves him too.
Another hot day here. Nearly, if not 100°. Conversations of the last 24 hours have been long – probably five hours on the phone – 20% of the day – all focused on the personal well-being of those we love. It is a sacred grace to feel that care for those so wounded.
It seems I had something more to say…
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…