Looping the Hen

The Heavier Side of Balance

When my life is good, as it has been for a very long time, I often forget that part of my philosophy is that along with ups, there have to be downs, otherwise it is impossible to appreciate the blessings we are given every day.

Of course, that doesn't mean I have to like it or take it quietly either.

We have a history of Alzheimer's on my father's side of the family (my grandmother had it). I received a call from my father yesterday, and he sounded more worried than I am used to from him, because he has been pretty healthy for years now, even though for almost a decade it was touch and go (with heart issues). He didn't say anything outright, but I could feel it hanging in the air.

For all his long years of health and heart problems (One reason I am turning into such a Health-Monster), he has always been an inspiration in keeping other people's spirits up in times of need or crisis. Both he and his wife regularly rescue both people and animals with equal acumen, and they have the kindest spirits I have ever met (along with my Mom). Still for some reason, they have been visited with every kind of tragedy over so many years I have lost count and I often think of them as Job's Kin. I know I have no hope of ever being able to fill his shoes because I would fold under 1/10th of what he has dealt with in his life. TBH, I had a hard enough time maintaining my composure on the phone and not breaking down like I was 11.

Still, no matter what happens and whether anything is wrong or not, I hope to be worthy of being my father's son by being the strength for the rest of his years (and I hope they number another 68 at least!) he has always been for me.

I know to this day my father and Anne-Marie pray for me every day, along with a hundred other people. For those so inclined, I hope you will take a moment and talk to God and ask him to look after my father and his wife, who have been truly good and loyal servants of His in ways most can't come close to approaching.

I love you Dad.