My Dad

Doug and I decided to visit my family for a period of time related to the progressing illness of my dad who is in the final stages of stomach cancer. He and my mom have fought cancer for 11 and a half years.  They have continued to live with such courage and victory. It is a story of how God works miracles in people's hearts in the midst of heart-break.

My parents live in central Pennsylvania, so we spent a week wrapping up our loose ends in Najile, Kenya and headed back to east coast USA. 

As those of you that have lost a family member from cancer know, the anticipation of the separation is surreal. Its hard to imagine my beloved dad, from whom I've gotten so much of who I am, just not being there anymore.  

Our family was able to all be together, all 19 of us for the Memorial Day weekend. It was a precious time of old and new memories. We sang together and prayed, and were quiet. The juxtaposition of immense joy and equally great sorrow is a mystery.

Doug and I were able to drive with my parents through my dad's childhood home area and stopped to take this picture of the farm where he grew up. In the last 66 years since my dad was born, it has changed a lot with new additions and new owners.  

As we drove the winding country roads around his hom, he shared memories of childhood adventures. We also stopped at a farmer's market owned by a friend since childhood.  We found the man out back picking strawberries and they were able to reconnect. 

There is a transition to being stateside suddenly after living in rural Africa. Sometime perhaps I can post about that, for now, its all a bit of a crazy haze.