A Father is Dying: A Lesson in What Faith Looks Like

This is what faith looks like.

I just got off the phone with Jane, one of my dearest friends. Her husband is our younger son's godfather. Jane had emailed me to let me know her 85-year-old father, Richard, is dying. He has had a massive stroke. She is sad; my usually stoic friend has been shedding tears. Her four daughters and her husband are comforting her.

Jane told me this. "God loves my father more than I do. He is more God's child than he is my father."

Jane is a twin and the youngest of nine children. Her mother died a few years ago. Her father moved in with Lisa, one of his daughters, in New Jersey, when his memory began to get muddy. Daily Mass gave him great solace in his new hometown; for all he could no longer remember, Richard still knew every word of the Liturgy. Four months ago, the family moved him to an assisted-living home down the street.

This is what faith looks like.

Last night, the priest and a deacon from that parish drove more than a half hour to Richard's hospital bed. The priest performed the Anointing of the Sick while Jane and her husband and Lisa and her husband, as well as the deacon, laid their hands on him.

This is what faith looks like.

Lisa's husband had the day off recently, before Richard took a fall at his assisted-living center and broke his hip. He took Richard to daily Mass. Richard, who had not been able to attend since his move to the assisted-living center, was treated as a celebrity by the priest and the daily communicants. They gathered around Richard and said how very good it was to see him again.

This is what faith looks like.

One of Lisa's daughters is marrying Friday night and all but one of Richard's children and their children are gathering for the wedding.  The wedding will go on, even as grandpa's earthly journey ends.

This is what faith looks like.

One of Richard's daughters has multiple sclerosis and cannot attend. Jane is comforted by the fact that when her father is buried beside his wife in Pennsylvania, her sister can be wheeled to the graveside  ceremony because it is next to the nursing home where her sister lives. Jane finds comfort in the idea that her sister's view from her own nursing home bed will be of her parents' graves. Jane knows that will give her sister a measure of peace.

This is what faith looks like.

(from Jane's email this afternoon) "The rest of my siblings will be arriving tomorrow, and Rhyan's wedding will of course go on as planned on Friday.  Sorrow to make the joy more sweet, and joy to make the sorrow more bearable - only God could have planned something like this. I am so grateful my dad is comfortable, that we will be all together. "

 "I am mostly grateful that heaven is not wishful thinking and that because of Christ we have confidence that Dad will have new life.  I know you will be praying for us all."