This month, as I asked God for direction on what He wanted me to write about SURRENDER, the song Make Room* came on. It was playing out of sequence on my Worship playlist and took me right back to my garage, tears rolling down my face, praying out loud to my steering wheel. Tears came to me again, a year and a half later.

The car was on then too, ready to go, and this song was playing. It was new to our church band, and I loved it. Yet it was more intense now, not in the dark of our church sanctuary, but its words were playing out in real time, with my dark yard only illuminated by the red flashing lights of the ambulance preparing to leave. I was impatient, wanting to get going, knowing every second counted. I didn’t want to call anyone, nor did I have the focus to put all my emotions into words. Still I was able to type out a request to a few prayer warriors, knowing the importance of being surrounded in prayer.

Just minutes prior, we were finishing dinner, and my Dad went ashen and started to slump forward. I was clearing dishes and returning from the kitchen when I noticed this and went to him. His breath slowed, as did his words. I held his hand to comfort him, but also because I love his hands, they are large and soft, yet protective. You feel cared for when holding his hands. 

In my mind, I cursed myself for not knowing CPR. Then I began reciting the Our Father from memory. Dad’s Catholic faith is important to him. I wanted him comforted with words that would ring true, and if they drew in a few angels too, I was all for it. My husband called 911. Our children, expressing shock and tears, yet calm and prayerful, ran outside to guide them to our home.

As the EMS team arrived, I introduced them to my Dad. I know this sounds silly, but something divine was working in me. As I prayed the Our Father, not knowing if “it would count” as last rites, and in exchanging their first names, I was caring for my Dad as much as I could in those last moments. In a few quick motions, two EMS men quickly tossed my dining room table aside as if it was a piece of firewood, and placed my Dad on the carpet to perform chest compressions, all the while I was praying for Jesus to be with us.

I’m not sure how I got to the garage. Or what I typed out to the prayer warriors. We were finally on our way. It’s still surreal thinking about following an ambulance, seeing my Dad’s face in the square window in the back door. I didn’t know his status, or even what caused the situation.  In these moments, driving the familiar streets, talking to God, I surrendered my Dad and his outcome.

“And I will make room for You, To do whatever You want to, To do whatever You want to, Jesus. And I will make room for You, for You.

Have Your way, have Your way, Jesus, oh. We surrender all, we surrender all, Jesus.
Have Your way, Jesus, have Your way, Jesus.” *

In these lyrics, I was open-handed to what was going to happen. I love my Dad so much, but if it was time to take him home, I had to be okay with that. That’s what surrender means, abandoning my agenda and saying God, “I want Your will to be done, not mine” (Luke 22:42 NLT). Surrendering means completely trusting God with the outcome. Completely trusting His plan. There was nothing I could do but pray for God to be beside both of us. In many ways, I watched my Dad die that day…yet I gained more intimacy with my Abba Father.

I felt peaceful arriving at the hospital and quickly understood that God was spreading love all around us. My mom rode in the front seat of the ambulance. When she hopped out, she told me all about her new friend, the driver, “Rider”. “Do you know him? He goes to your church.” It turns out of all the EMS professionals that could be on the schedule that night, and of the team of three amazing medics, the young man who kept my mom calm and peaceful at a very crucial moment, was Owen Reider, the son of our church worship leader (full circle with our new church song). He was also praying for my Dad as he drove.

I’m thankful God’s will was in favor of giving borrowed time with my Dad. Now, each visit is precious to me. I have minimal expectations, I’m happy to talk with and care for him. It was a traumatic situation for my family, yet another reminder of how our days are numbered, none are guaranteed, and we need to make sure we know where we are headed once we leave the earth.

And I am so thankful for the love my Dad has given me over the years: the basis of my Christian faith, his modeling of service and generosity, his soft hands to hold, and his all-encompassing hugs. I can fully appreciate the love of my Heavenly Father because of the love from my earthly Daddy.

Lord, I cannot thank You enough for the love You have given me over the years. Thank You for the lessons You have taught me and the teachers You have brought into my life. You are such a wonderful, loving, comforting, and caring Father to me, even in the scary, traumatic, and uncertain moments of life. I am trying to hand more areas of my life over to Your trusting hands. Like my earthly Dad, I know You will protect me and hold me close. Thank You for letting me learn about You from such an amazing example here. Amen.

*Make Room by Community Music