The Lord had tried to prepare me for this call. For about two months He kept telling me,
“Call your Mom and Dad NOW, while you can.”

That scared me so I did. But then it became specific, “Call your Dad.” I knew something
was going on, but, in my typical manner, I pushed my head deep into the sands of denial.
I still called, but that gnawing feeling in my gut would not go away. This prophetic gift
has proven to be correct many times in my life, mostly for good things, but occasionally it
was a warning, or heads up. 

Articles, FB posts and TV shows, started popping up about grieving at the Holidays.
I was quick to flip the channel or get off those articles. Please, not at the holidays…
wait,..please. I begged God, over and over. That growing, unrelenting knowledge
that something was going to happen at the Holidays wouldn't leave me.

I’m grateful that God was trying to prepare me, but my need to avoid pain kept me
from gleaning what could have helped me prior to this call. 

My phone rang again and we were conferenced in to hear what the Doctor had to say,
”He will live three months without surgery, three to five years with, depending on what
kind of cancer it is. We won’t know until we do surgery. Right now he’s on steroids to
reduce the swelling, which is causing his confusion and memory loss.” 

With tears and family talking over each other, I heard my sister Beth saying good-bye.

"Wait..wait...before you hang up. CHRISTI." I could feel panic clutching at my chest.

"Yes."

“Can Daddy hear me?” 

“Yes,” she said. I could hear her move closer to him.

“Daddy..." I paused, trying to keep my composure. I could hear my sistsers softly crying.

"I love you. I love you so so much! You are the best Daddy in the whole wide world.
I have been thinking about that lately, and I am so proud of you. I love you. I’m sorry 
you have to go through this.”

Later, the phone rang for the fourth time and I started to cry before I even answered it.
I’ve never been so sick or afraid of answering my phone. I walked around pinching
myself, Wake up! Wake up! This is a bad nightmare. But, I have yet to wake up.
I truly wish this was a dream.

Conference calls with doctors, surgeons and neurologists became a blur over the next
couple of days. My husband and I left December 26, to travel to Nebraska. I was numb, 
my mind just couldn’t function properly. My sweet husband drove most of the way.
We put on movies to help pass the time. About six hours in, out of nowhere, I began
to shake and sob. I was confused and looked out the window, what? why am I feeling
like this?  Then I saw a sign, Hebron Ne. and I realized we were getting close to home.
The emotions and reality that I was about to face, flooded over me.

I lost track of the days, dates or time. I was just on auto-pilot. The night we drove into
town we stopped at the Hospital to see Daddy. It’s hard to see your strong Dad, sitting
in a wheel chair and hospital gown looking blank, scared and worried. He doesn't want to
be a vegetable when this is all over. The MRI’s and CAT scans showed a tumor the size
of a baseball in the front right lobe. It was causing swelling and pushing on the brain.
That’s why his behavior had changed so much.

So what prompted all this? On December 22, 2019, a Sunday, Daddy, a retired pastor,
routinely filled in for other pastors who wanted a vacation. This Sunday, Mom said 
he kept repeating the same verse over and over and then just stood there. My Mom, 
and a man who has known Daddy for years, could tell something was wrong. Mom got
up and went to the pulpit.

“Come on honey, we’re all done.” She took his notes and Bible and they walked off
the stage and drove to the ER. 

I just realized, he may never preach again.

My sister, Christi looked up the symptoms of a brain tumor and said he fit it
to a "T", but the little changes that we’d seen, we’d chalked up to him getting older. 

My sister, Beth put it best, “Daddy was a strong island that all his girls stood on.”
That is so true. I’d never thought about it like that. He had been our strength.