And here we are...

Back in the ER...

Dad has struggled with days of fatigue, a worsening cough, and lungs that refuse to behave.  This has led us to back to familiar ground. 

But this time no pneumonia.  Cheers!

Just a complicated, frustrating, overwhelmingly intense COPD flare-up.  The kind where panic is written with each labored breath.

Grateful beyond measure that I just happened to be spending the night, but still reeling from the jarring, disorienting wake-up as dad called for me, past midnight, hoarse and frantic.  By the time I reached him, his lungs were closing, and his eyes spoke fear, suffocating and real.

As we rushed thru the darkened night to the closest ER, minutes, precious minutes, passed as dad struggled to hold on, the hissing of the oxygen tanks competing with the distressed wheezing of each ragged breath.

I found myself breathing with him... desperately willing oxygen into his starved lungs.

No prayers would come... Just Jesus, please.  Jesus.

Jesus.

Jesus

And He was there.

I realized much later that His name was prayer in and of itself.  These times when our heartache, our cries, our desperation are the call He longs to answer... our groanings are the prayers spoken long and deep without words... just our broken, sobbing, mess of need...

And He hears.

"God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along.  If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.  He knows us far better than we know ourselves... and keeps us present before God."

                                       ~ Romans 8:26-27, The Message

Jesus.  His name is all we need.  No, there wasn't a miraculous healing in that moment.  Dad's damaged lungs remained scarred and stiff.  But a Calm descended and from somewhere it steadied my voice and stressed commands gave way to soothing encouragement.  His breathing slowed and his eyes closed as he concentrated on the next breath...and the next...

There was a Presence that held us together.  And I know now it was His arms holding us close. 

Dad isn't out of the woods, but he is resting and breathing more comfortably in Room 201.   

Jesus.  Breathing His name in prayer.  And continuing to lift up Dad as the doctors tend his fragile lungs and give comfort in the days ahead...

Graced to call on the name of Jesus this day, for He promises always to meet us in our deepest need.

Always,

           Jane