The Lent word for today is Sorrow. I immediately thought of my sage. From mid-winter through early spring, not much looks more sorrowful than my sage. Silvery leaves droop and shiver in the breeze although only two feet away daffodils are in bloom.
I feel much the same way right now. My father seems to be going down hill. Eight years ago, he had two mild strokes. He has COPD. Oxygen deprivation to the brain does strange things and he’s recently started having hallucinations again.
Yes, I tell the doctor. I’m sure he’s hallucinating. Yes. I know I’m a writer not a doctor, but I’m also 98% certain that small black-legged deer are not running through the wheels on his wheelchair.
God and I talk a lot during these times. Well, mostly I talk and he listens. I pray for healing although I’m not sure who I’m praying for — me or my father. I pray for patience as I look for his missing shoe and find it wedged in his jacket sleeve along with a piece of cardboard and a urinal. I also pray for acceptance. This might be the beginning of a downward trend but it might not be. I’ve seen him go downhill before only to have him come back stronger in another day or another week.
But mostly, I’m thankful. Dad may be confused, although he won’t admit it. And he’s suspicious which he admits. But he is not sorrowful and, for that, Lord, I thank You.