The things we can and can't do

So I went up to see my father. I flew to Portland, stopped and got my cousin whom I hadn't seen in 20 years, and we drove the rest of the way to Walla Walla, Washington. This is the little town where I did most of my growing up years, where most of my grandparents are buried, and where a large portion of my father's family still lives. My father is the black sheep of the family. He played in a band of his making from his younger days until I was about 11 or 12. That's when my mother put her foot down and decided that we wouldn't travel around for the band's sake any longer. This was the beginning of the end of their marriage. My father has zero education, no real ability to learn, and pretty much believes whatever he sees on television if presented in a credible fashion. He is the quintessential white trash guy. Because of his lack of education, the jobs he has held since quitting music have been mostly as a laborer, but he's always had some scheme in his head of how to make "easy" money. He did have a kind of successful stint off and on as salesperson, with one organization or another. He has the ability to bullshit with complete belief in everything he's telling you. Because of the complete disintegration of my parents' marriage, and because he elected to remain an alcoholic and not do a thing to try to save his relationships with his children or his wife, my mother eventually relocated my brother and myself to Southern California, and he remained in Walla Walla for the rest of his. Because of this, my brother and I were estranged from a large portion of our family, and there is a lot of awkwardness in trying to be close to these people now. From the time he moved back to Walla Walla, his slide downhill was at times gradual, at times avalanching, and at times it almost appeared he would pull up just a tiny bit. But the truth is he's in poverty, the worst kind that any of us imagine our elderly population to be forced to exist within. Utterly dependent on the State and Medicare for his housing, food, medicines, and medical care, without options, and pretty much limited to just staying within his own dwelling all the time. Because of the way he behaved and the stupid things he did, most of his family who do live near him have had little to do with him. I cannot blame them in the slightest. I too would choose to have nothing to do with him if all I allowed to be in my heart is the bitterness, resentment, and anger that he deserves. But the energy to maintain that attitude is more than I am willing to give, and far more than I have at my disposal. It has been life changing and incredibly easy to forgive and allow all that God will do with that forgiveness to enter my heart and change my spirit.

I went up to Walla Walla with several goals in mind: to get power of attorney over his bank account, to get his Living Will organized, and to share Jesus Christ with him. And I did do these things. But my Spiritual gifts are not evangelism. I might be able to point to Christ, share the Gospel, and kind of shove someone in that direction. But I don't have what it takes to "close the deal" as it were. I never actually offered to pray with my father, though the opportunity came up briefly. I wish now that I had. Not just pray with him, but pray for him in his presence. I think he did come to some understanding that his time is nearly up, and he spent some time making up with some people he hadn't been on good terms with prior to his surgery. But he didn't make it to church with his neighbor, and he hasn't actually asked Jesus to be his Saviour. And I feel I let him down, and let Him down. Oh, I know, I'm not responsible for someone taking that step, you can lead the horse to water, but you can't make him drink, and all that. I know that. But my heart knows what God knows--that I didn't do absolutely all that I could have done to help him spiritually. I chose what to do in the financial and housing realm of his life, and I purposely did not do all I could. But I wish I had been more willing to humble myself, be more willing to cry in front of him and anyone else who might have been there, been more willing to be the Fool for Christ, as Paul described himself. I know too that God forgives me for not having the guts and for not being utterly confident that He would have given me all the words and whatever I needed. I pray for my dad all the time, and I pray he will have the chance to take Christ's hand before he actually departs this world. I think he'd be amazed at meeting up with his mother again in heaven, and learn she doesn't hold anything against him now, how could she? That he'd be welcomed and rejoiced over by many he thought didn't love him in this life.

He still has a long way to go. He had surgery, needs to recover from this, have radiation, probably be moved into assisted living and be rid of all his debris and junk from his life. I don't know how much longer he'll have. I know I have some help still to give. And I pray God gives me another time to be with him, bow my head, and offer up a prayer that moves my dad to walk into the forgiveness and grace that Jesus died to give us.