Broken Hearts

It's the middle of the night. Dad is quiet, sedated into a peaceful sleep. I am keeping watch, a vigil in the night, trying to keep my soul alert for my Savior. I spent time reading to him, first from a book of poems he read to me many times as a child. When I was sick or sad, out would come The Bumper Book, a special bond between me and Dad. So I read our favorites, trying to bring to him the comfort those words always brought to me. Then I read the Words that give life to the soul. The Psalms, promises of the almighty. Our ultimate comfort can only come from the living God of comfort. I am feeling so small, so helpless, so different from the other side of the bed I am usually on. Being the nurse is so much easier than being the daughter. And letting God be God, is harder than anything. Realizing that although we have decisions to make, we are not really in control. My soul is trying to hold to the amazing freedom in that. My heart is tearing away, ripping in the most painful way, from the heart of my earthly father. But in the still of the night, the Savior whispers to my heart... "Though your heart and your flesh may fail Andrea, I am the strength of your heart and your portion forever." -Psalm 73:26, personalized So I will rest and be still and open. And the Savior will save...