That night...I remember.

I have often joked that I have the memory of a fish, a memory spanning approximately three seconds. Chalk it up to not enough sleep perhaps…or just lack of really cataloging some memories. Whatever the case, remembering details is not one of my gifts. But, there is one night that not only I remember, I can’t get it out of my mind. Every time I close my eyes, that night is relived over and over…

It was October 30, 2014; our family was visiting at my parents’ house after a night of Trick or Treating. It was time to leave for home, for it was getting late, but I was trying to find ways to prolong the visit. I could tell my Dad was not feeling well, and after getting the news from the previous day of his pacemaker not working, I was hesitant to leave him. When I could lengthen the visit no longer, I went to hug my Dad goodbye. Grace had given him a tootsie pop minutes before, and he was sitting in the dining room chair savoring it. I leaned over to hug and kiss him, and could tell he was having a hard time getting enough air. I told him that I would like to take him to the ER to make sure he was OK, and continued to tell him how much I loved him and he was the only Dad I had; we needed to take care of him. I noticed the Tootsie Pop start swirling around before I noticed his face…something was definitely wrong. At first I just thought he was emotional from me telling him how much I loved him…then he fell over in the chair and that Tootsie Pop hit the floor. No one else in the room noticed…they were saying their goodbyes for the night and gathering up their candy. I started screaming out to the Lord for help…I was pretty sure I’d just lost my Dad. Mom came and held Dad while I called 911. That was the longest 11 minutes of my life. I remember feeling the huge relief of seeing the ambulance, then the frustration when they pulled into the wrong driveway. After Mike ran down the road to flag them down, there was a sense of relief, feeling that help was there, only to find out they brought the wrong kind of truck and didn't have a defibrillator with them. Mom was told she wouldn't be allowed to ride with them, so Mom and I jumped in my Jeep and followed extremely close…

I remember seeing them defibrillate Dad, (after meeting another truck to get the device), through the little glass window of the ambulance, from my Jeep...

I remember having to make the calls to family while speeding down the highway...

I remember the looks on the medical worker’s faces, looks that did not show hope...

I remember the long wait we had until a doctor finally came to see Dad...

I remember my brother driving all night from Illinois, and my Aunt from Tennessee, to make it in to see Dad...

I remember the cold floor…

I remember the family, friends, Dad’s employees, Pastors, and elders coming to pray with us…

I remember thinking how nice it would be if we always showed people how much we cared for them…not just in their last moments…

I remember the moment Cleveland Clinic staff arrived to prepare him for his jet ride to their clinic…

I remember the words, “We can’t make any promises, but we’ll give him a fighting chance!” Thank you Cleveland Clinic, we love you!...

I remember almost losing him twice at the Clinic, where Mom and I were chauffeured rather abruptly out of his room…sitting in the hallway, only being able to see a foot below the curtain, but straining our ears to hear everything that was going on...

I remember feeding him Jell-O, all the while trying not to cry…

I remember my Mom singing to him, rubbing his back, and trying to be strong...

I remember friends who watched my children so I could stay with Mom and Dad…

I remember God’s presence, goodness, and mercy…

I remember the nurse telling Mom on the day of his release to go home, "We really didn't think he would get to leave"...

I remember that sometimes God reminds us that he can do anything...

I remember answered prayers…

Dad had a 17 day hospital stay. He has overcome so many obstacles. I think it is easy in this day and age to not notice miracles as much, because of modern medicine…but I am here to tell you, that Dad’s life is a miracle. There were so many things that went wrong with his care…things that easily could have had a different outcome. But, the Lord heard our cries and had mercy on us. He still has many health issues, but we are so thankful for his life, his story, and the Lord’s protection.

Today, I remember to be thankful!