Watches of the Night

I’m up for at least two hours in the night these days. The darkness isn’t quite so black as the middle of winter. The sun goes down late, gets up early, and the sky has a lightish color even in the wee hours.

Outside the walls of the house nothing comforting seems to happen

Coyotes put up their choir practice at least once a night, owls hoot, blood curdling screeches are normal. We live in the country. This is nothing unusual.

I always try to get the cats in for the night. Topi is black and can camouflage at night, Gandalf is pure white, so I always try to locate him, lure him in before going to bed. I’m afraid he will glow in the starlight. (Predicate rarely leaves the house, so I don’t worry about her.)

Dogs wail response to the coyotes and the horn of the Burlington Northern that often rumbles by.

There are noises. It isn’t quiet. Frogs and crickets add their sounds, too.

My dad is declining. At night he seems more confused mentally than during the day. Because of this we are on duty, guarding against any confusion that may harm him.

Ed and I, or my mom and Ed stand guard, every night. Mom needs sleep badly, so I try to be there most nights lately. I have to work at the hotel on occasion, so that is a conflict.

This changes everything, again.

I’m used to change, though, aren’t I?

It isn’t as if I didn’t see this stage in my elderly parents coming. I’ve heard these stories from my friends for years.

But each passing is truly unique. There are equations that sum up our situation, one factor differential, that define our experience versus anyone else’s.

I don’t have Brian here to edit my math metaphor. He always edited my blog, you know. I felt such satisfaction when he made “no comment.” High praise.

My dad’s experience is probably very like and also very unlike others.’

We navigate these uncharted waters and in the quiet of my new wide-awake nights I think about all sorts of things.

The night that my husband died, I was staying in a hostel for rock climbers in New Hampshire. I remember being sleepless, staring at the sky through the screened window, a zillion thoughts racing through my mind. It was starry skies, mountains framing the constellations which I could recognize.

I hadn’t come to terms with Brian’s death. I could only pray that he’d miraculously wake up, or that I would wake up from this nightmare.

You know, neither of these things happened. I coped by reassuring myself that we’d be with Jesus soon—-He is coming soon. The darkness was full of so many possibilities and pleas for mercy, pleas for Christ’s return. It wasn’t quiet, at least in my mind.

Now it is different. I expect my dad’s decline, his passing. His heart is too weak to guarantee much more time. We are in a waiting time, not a panic. He has lived his 95 years well, and been a blessing to others.

He does get anxious as his mind refuses to function like he was accustomed. Dad is a very smart man. When smart people lose a sense of place it is more traumatic. I’m convinced of this. He abhorred alcohol his whole life, so he has only ever been “sober.” A keen mind unused to confusion or dullness, it is an entirely new experience.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, Dad”

What a relief that he acknowledges Jesus as his savior! The comfort and peace, the resting from fear that this thought and will can bring, even in a confused mind.

When I worked at the nursing home in town as a sixteen-year-old, thinking becoming an LPN would get me onto the mission field easily (it wouldn’t have!) I was able to see how the devil (prince of this world) takes advantage of weakening bodies and minds.

it shocked me at first, but I’m thankful for the explanation my mom (an RN) gave me about the devil’s malicious intent to lord it over the saints of the Lord in their weaknesses.

It inspired me to put good things, God things, wholesome things, righteous things into my gray matter, that the evil one would have little to work with when (IF) my body failed before my life expired.

Sudden death is not exactly the worst thing. Lingering death can be really difficult. Sudden death is a blessing to the one who dies, lingering death prepares those around much more.

But one must know Jesus. He is the sweetness of the night, the fragrance of a weakening life. His Spirit is the power that can make all the difference between fear and peace.

I’m tired. I can’t do much else than think about things lately. I’m feeling a bit worthless.

I know that I am here for such a time as this, though.

Personal plans are on hold.

Thank you for your prayers. Corgi Hollows is standing in the need of prayer.

Maranatha!