In the Name of the Father

“I hate that part,” my neighbor tells me.  The end part. The part where you watch them slip deeper and deeper into the abyss, and you stand by, because you must. Someone must; they could not, should not, do this alone.

And you care for their physical needs. You attend to their mental faculties. You honor their emotional selves. You stand watch. And wait. Because waiting is all their is now. Well, except for love. That’s there. That’s the part that allows you to do these small meaningless things which don’t prevent the slipping. Love makes it possible.

Love possibles it.

Yes, I think I shall proclaim ‘possible’ a verb. An action taken always by love. Perhaps it is love’s alone to take.

A way made.

A door opened.

A breeze blowing.

This day, though it is yet young, I have cleaned, laundered, picked up, scrubbed, sprayed, carried, reeled, lifted – no, hoisted, and hugged, patted, stroked, smooched, cuddled, held. It’s what love does.

In us. To us. Through us. For us.

Love never dies.

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“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”~ Matthew 25:40


About wlebolt

Life comes at you fast. I like to catch it and toss it back. Or toss it up to see where it lands. I do my best thinking when I'm moving. And my best writing when I am tapping my foot to a beat no one else hears. Kinesthetic to the core.

Posted on August 8, 2014, in Body and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Barbara Hoopes

    Oh, Wendy. My heart hurts for you. Thank heaven (literally!) for love. One of the things we did in our dear one’s last days was to compile a photo album that started with recent pictures, such as you have posted here, but traveled backwards in time to end with puppy photos. Going through all the pictures to make the album was cathartic for all of us, and it remains one of our most treasured mementos of our boy to this day.

    • Thank you, Barbara. Ironically, the decline of the husky is paralleling the precipitous decline of my father’s health – thus, the title. So, as sad as it seems, even this very sad journey is blessing me as I am not able to provide this care for my father who is many miles away.

      So grateful for scripture which echoes assurance in our ears.

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