I remember the phone call clearly. “Don’t wait. You need to come now.” And so I called the airline and waited on hold. I drove to the airport and waited to board. Flew part way and waited for my connection. And then I arrived at my father’s bedside and waited for him to die.
The hospice nurse told us that people often wait until loved ones gather before they pass on. But my siblings had gathered from far and wide, and yet my father held on, without any noticeable change or recognition of our presence. What was he waiting for?
Alone with my dad late one night, I found myself quietly humming the words, “Here I am Lord. Is it I Lord? I have heard you calling in the night.” I was praying that God would take my dad. Yet it was me that suddenly felt a profound sense of peace and comfort.
My dad didn’t die right away. If fact, I returned home to my children and wasn’t there when he passed. But for me the wait was over because I knew that God had heard me calling. I try to recall that feeling of peace and comfort whenever waiting is a difficult journey.