We're at my parent's home in Columbus, Ohio. As I have watched my mom care for my father this weekend, I am watching a saint at work. My dad is 90, and having a difficult time physically. His hearing is almost gone, and he needs help with nearly every task that we all take for granted. I watch my mom care for his every need, listen for his call, put him to bed and then listen to make sure he is okay. My parents have been married for 58 years, and I see the result of a wonderful marriage.
As we traveled here on Wednesday, 3 hours away my sister called to say that my mom was being rushed to the hospital. She was experiencing stroke like symtoms. As you can imagine, we begin to pray, and pray hard. Then I began to think of the potential consequences to my dad, if she indeed were having a stroke. Who would help her rehab? Who would take care of him? Thankfully, the diagnosis was Bell's Palsy. The recovery time is weeks to 3 months. We are so thankful to God that the result was this, and not a stroke.
We arrived on Wednesday evening at my parent's home before my sister and brother got my mom home. When we came in, my dad was sitting in his wheel chair by the front window, watching for my sister's car. Every few minutes he would ask "when will they be here?". Finally, they arrived home. I watched them embrace, shed tears of joy and watched relief spread across my father's face. Even though she should have gone right to bed to rest, the first thing my mom did was to make sure that my dad had everything he needed. Like every night, she helped him through him through his "going to bed" routine, made sure everything was finished, and then she went to bed. She's in bed tonight, it's 11:20 PM, I wonder if there is a glow in a saint's bedroom?
