Monday, May 27, 2013

Every breath I take I take in You Jesus

Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord. Psalm 150:6

So sometimes it seems like that all my daddy has is breath.  And it is labored a bit, so mom puts him on a little breathing machine thingie three times a day for eight minutes, or until he has had enough, whichever comes first.

And he sort of whispers to himself about Vanderbilt and the Caney Fork River and edits newsletters in the air.

But sometimes he swings his veritable skin-and-bone legs over the side of the bed and tries to escape.  And if I ask him, “How are you doing daddy?”, he will rasp in a fuzzy voice, “Jes’ fine,” and tell me that feels so good when I rub his back, and then he is done and flops back down, enough adventures for the moment.  

Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord.

Ol’ Evie has breath too.  Last night she was pretty unhappy what with air bubbles or whatever was in her tummy so she fussed a bit, and we all jostled her up and down and patted her back.  Heather and Dustin had shown up with two-for-the-price-of-one-pizzas and who knew Whole Foods sold their own two-buck bottle of wine and got whopped at cards by momma and me which of course never happens, but they said they got lucky at babies and they sure did, 

Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord.

And just now my dad is whispering again, “I gotta get out of here,” so thus ends the quiet candlelit moment, and a new day is beginning.  I can hear momma sweeping the front porch and the men’s Bible study that has met together on Monday mornings for over forty years is coming here these days, and I am out the door to take Jincheng to the airport.

Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord.

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