Feeling Minnesota

I'll admit I've daydreamed of a situation that would require me to take an extra trip home (for the sheer pleasure of it), but when the call actually came, it was quite another thing. I entered a state of shock when my exceptionally healthy and active father had a health emergency that resulted in a comatose state for nearly 10 endless days. I didn't dare draw any premature conclusions, so as to guard my fragile emotional condition, but misery crept in as the days passed. I kept to myself.

In peculiar contrast to this misery, I felt inexplicable exuberant gratitude for every single moment of life I had shared with my extraordinary father. I was surrounded by evidence of his loving contributions on every side, I had a million precious memories of time spent together, even our last conversation had been good--remarking on how I took after him in positive ways--it was too much. I could not have asked for more, I could only feel the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

And then he woke up. 

Again, it was too much, too good. And that was about the time I arrived home to be with him and my family. What incredible relief to be among those with shared DNA and therefore shared emotional processes! It was all so good, so sweet, but not all easy. The initial recovery was, frankly, a difficult period, but now he is home and improving rapidly.

Unexpected cousin bonding.

Just two guys, eating pancakes.

With what seems to be the worst behind us, I am now left to ponder how this event will change our family--through it all my siblings were steadfast like marble pillars, my mother an ever-ministering angel to my father--what will it all mean in the future?

After a 3-week stay, it was time to go. I was so grateful to have returned home to Minnesota in winter, which may sound odd, but it brought great fulfillment and healing. Both my father and mother instilled in us a love of our homeland in all seasons, winter in particular. And in a way I can't quite explain, my love for the land is an extension of the love I have for my parents, because it was they who taught me to love.

And there are so many things I love about that land, like the wide open spaces, and the way the low winter sun casts a thousand colors on the snow, while an overcast sky renders it a pure hypnotic white. I love the bitter cold (the kind that makes you know you're alive), the long winter shadows, the silhouette of bare branches against a sunset, and the electric blue hue of snow at twilight. My cup runneth over.

Birdhouses my father carved.