The last three weeks have been a roller-coaster of emotion and harsh reality regarding my dad's health. Nov 13th we took dad to the ER. Within the first hour we were told he was covid positive. He was admitted.
The following weeks have been a constant up and down of good news followed by not so good news.
His first week in the hospital was terrible. No visitors. Nearby family was either on quarantine or waiting negative results. It must have been horrible all alone that first week. The first few visitors saw a man on his death bed waiting to go to his eternal home.
We all felt it. Each of his family members felt it. We felt him leaving us. I know one night I spent the night in mourning preparing my heart for what we fully believed was the inevitable.
Dad has shared his story of being drug down by his feet into the deep miry clay. Sinking deeper. The thick mud wanted his life, wanted to pull him further until it he was completely under. Dad fought for life that night. Long and hard he fought with every bit of determination left in his 78 year old body.
"The blood won the battle" was his cry of victory. You see in this family we don't fight alone. We fight our battles with the Lord Jesus Christ and the blood that he shed on the cross. He shed his precious blood for our sins, our healing, our redemption. When we claim victory it is not our victory but the continued victory won on the Cross over 2000 years ago.
Praise the name of Jesus of Nazareth!
