Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

 

My 91 year old father is a Covid-19 survivor. His doctor calls him Lazarus. I call him Daddy and am so thankful he is home from the hospital and regaining his strength. 

About a month ago, now, Daddy decided to go back to church and teach his Sunday School class for the first time since March. He loved teaching Sunday School, something he has done most of his adult life. A physician, he's a brilliant man who still pursued knowledge even in old age. And he always loved sharing his knowledge with his Sunday School students. 

But that first day back, a man came to class not knowing that he had contracted the virus. He sat in an empty seat next to my brother who attends Daddy's class. A few days later, my dad and brother received notice that they had been exposed and a few days after that, they both showed symptoms and tested positive themselves. 

Both were hospitalized but my brother's illness was not as severe and he was released a few days after being admitted. Daddy was released but then readmitted and remained in the hospital for ten more days, a very sick man. There were truly times we thought he wasn't going to make it. He finally received plasma with antibodies and began to turn the corner. The day he was released, the man who he had contracted the virus from passed away. That man was only in his 70's. 

All of these men were Christians--my dad, my brother, and the man who passed away. They all had many people praying for them. Why did God take one and spare the others? God's ways are not my ways and long ago I stopped trying to understand why God chooses to do what He does. I learned years ago to pray to Him but trust His answers even when they differ from what I might have wanted, and to thank Him, always. Today, I thank Him again for choosing to give my 91 year old beloved father a little more time on this earth!

Spring is finally here!

In my last post, I wrote that I was hoping for spring. Well, it has finally come with its warm sunshine and beautiful blooms but now I'm hoping that life will go back to normal. I, like everyone else, am stuck in house under a shelter-in-place order from my governor because of the Covid 19 worldwide pandemic.

So far, I am mine are well. My sister and her family all got the virus and suffered with it for a couple of weeks but all recovered. I have an acquaintance who is not fairing as well.  His 23 year old daughter is currently in ICU on a ventilator because of the virus and many others I do not know have lost loved ones to the virus.

I see this compared to the 1918 flu and find myself wondering what life was like for them back then. Recently, my 91 year old dad told me about a crystal bowl his mother received as a wedding present. I asked when she got married and he said, "December 26, 1915." So my grandmother was a new wife during that pandemic. Now her son who was not born until 1928 is ninety one years old. I guess I should count my blessings that something like this has not happened in a hundred years.

My grandmother saw this flu, World War I (which her husband served in as a doctor), the Great Depression, World War II, and the illness and loss of her husband and one son at young ages. What a brave woman she must have been! I was named after her and am proud to be her namesake.

So, as I stay at home with television, computers, iphones, and a healthy family … I realize I have nothing to grumble about.