Yesterday, at 9:11 a.m., my sweet Dad went to be with the Lord. I think that after Dad saw Jesus face to face and fell on his knees in worship, he said, "So, where are we going for dinner!"

God's timing has been amazing in these last few weeks. There are so many ways He answered our prayers. This morning in my quiet time I read in I Peter (from The Message) that I should "drink deeply the kindness of God". I am.

Thanks to all of you who prayed for us. We are experiencing the sufficiency of God's grace.

Dad just one year ago. Kind, funny, quirky, deaf (!), engaging, peaceful and generous.

Today, on the way to see my Dad at the nursing home and meet with Hospice, I realized that I have been holding my breath for nearly three months. Not literally of course but emotionally. Watching my Dad go inch by inch has put me on high alert, dreading the call informing us that he has passed away.

I love my Dad fiercely, but I am not the one who has numbered his days. However, my actions seem to indicate that I think I have. Sadly, I've been here before.

About nine years ago, when one of our daughters was going through a difficult time, I turned into a well trained watch dog. Nothing was going to get past me. My hyper-vigilance turned me into a woman that I no longer recognized. And since God wasn't moving quickly enough for me, I thought I needed to take his place. How kind I was to give him some time off from being omniscient and omnipresent.

I did a wonderful job playing God. I became bitter, cold, distant, angry...a dead woman walking. And oddly enough, things didn't get better they got significantly worse. Seriously worse. Fortunately, I didn't get what I deserved...God's wrath. Instead, he poured, no he flooded me with his grace. And while I wanted to run from him, I couldn't shake him! It took two years before I let myself be carried away with his grace. Two years...

So, here I am again. Ever the watch dog. Except it has taken me much less time to figure out I can't sustain this and I am not supposed to.

The pace of our lives these past few weeks has kept me away from blogging...several other things have also fallen by the wayside.

The word for the month of June has been "change". Our youngest daughter went from being a college student to a quasi employed worker. Our two other daughters and their families are also facing lots of change. Our best friends for 31 years have moved many miles away. My Dad's health is rapidly declining. Once a vibrant, engaging man, he is now less than 90 pounds. A man who doesn't eat, rarely drinks and is talking less and less each day...changing radically right before our eyes.

Have I mentioned that I hate change? I can barely move a stick of furniture without feeling faint! And yet, this is right where God has me...looking at lots of loose threads wondering what sort of tapestry God is weaving. I must admit to you that my emotions are bouncing around like a ping pong ball. You see, I want to see the end of some of these stories. I am not comfortable with mystery. How many of you are like me? You know the type that has to finish a book, even if it's lousy, just to see how it ends. The type that gets a little crazy when there is absolutely nothing you can do?

Recently, while reading the Gospel of Matthew in The Message, I came upon a most interesting phrase. Jesus is speaking to His disciples and tells them that He can heal them of their "inner torment". I'm hanging on to that...some days just barely.