Monday, October 18

Every moment

I write of poetry, pretty pictures, french pressed brew... and love. That is the story of my life.

But over the last week, my father had a heart attack. This is after the last time I blogged. You remember, my last post was of all of my family coming together. "You don't talk for a while, you know- life happens, you go your own way" but it was a lot different then that in my family. The separation felt permanent. The wounds felt too difficult to bear... that is, until that day almost two weeks ago we walked into my father's home. Not as "carli kiene" or "candra braham" but as the Bitting Family. In celebration, as in trials, we dare not ask why. We l i v e. Because we trust that His perfect will whatever that is, is grander and larger then our futile attempts to ask any questions or understand. It's called trust... and I'm learning a lot of that these days.

So we bonded as a family. We came together for the first time in the history of the Bitting Family. Then my father had a heart attack. On my flight home from Denver, after hearing the news and being so far away from the man who single-handedly raised 4 children, I was an uncontrollable sobbing mess. I had one cry, for my father's life. Suddenly, the two men I was squashed between on that airplane could bring no peace. My tears fell. No one offered consulation, but the pen in my hand and the Voice in my heart that said, "Everything will be OK, just Trust Me".
This flowed...

Every moment we are writing
The story of our lives.
Live! We hope our dreams, inviting
fortune- good, into our lives.
But the Author, far beyond time
Sees our hearts and knows our needs.
Meager- our attempt to make rhyme
The Poet already knows... we bleed.
Make amends, however trying.
Think you know not how life ends.
The truth is, Love, we all are dying
For one man, I ask the rules to suspend.

The story I could be writing now could have a different ending. It was not my father's time to go. There were so many hours that first night after I heard the news, that I wasn't 26 years old-- I was 5, crying, in his arms, pleading for his life, my tears falling in his lap. I was putting my little hand in his great big one. I was looking up at his patient eyes, those understanding eyes.

My dad was discharged from the hospital yesterday, days earlier then we all expected. We discovered he has a congenital heart defect. In other words: one he's had since the day he was born. So I ask that you pray for continued healing of his heart. There is no operation for it, but isn't it true, Love, we all are dying.

I woke up this morning even more thankful for l i f e.

To the Man who taught me how to love. You teach me how to live...

3 comments:

Kristen said...

Tears streaming, sweet carli. So thankful for the man who calls you his daughter.. For his life for yours.

Anonymous said...

Wonderful words Carli... I love your boundless, endless love....

Your love is a song.

Jenny Little said...

WOW Carli, I just sat down and read this post, you have such a beautiful way with words. I just sat here crying and sending you so much love