I used to be a thrill chaser. Nothing was fast enough for me. Sure, I'd be scared while I was on it, but the fear went away as soon as the thrill ended. Snowmobiling, riding on motorcycles, skiing- both snow and water- jet skiing....all of these activities were thrilling, and exhilarating, and I loved them! I grew up on each of those motor vehicles because my dad had them. I loved holding on to him while we flew through the snow or on the blacktop. The wind whipping my face would cause me to hide it behind his strong back and squeeze a little tighter.
When we would go out to the lake, he would careen around the corners on the gravel roads while I clung on to the door handle until my knuckles were white. There was one hill in particular that he would take with such speed that my stomach would jump every time we went over it. Sometimes I was scared.
He always brought me home safe. No bumps. No bruises. He took care of me. In one piece.
Wednesday we get the results. I'm scared. I want to take care of him this time. I want to protect him the way he protected me. We spent some time with him again this weekend. The boys played checkers while dad and B watched the game. He is so sick. He can't hide it. He isn't keeping his meds down. He can't keep food down. And my heart is breaking. I am praying for Wednesday...but I'm not sure what to pray for. I don't know if I'll post the results here or not. I haven't decided.
I'm clinging to faith right now. I need His protection.