My father is having surgery today.
They’re replacing his hip, which is completely unfathomable in one sense. We can replace body parts, how weird is that?
It’s also unbelievable to me, as his daughter. He’s my father, our protector, invulnerable.
Says the small child, long since gone. The grown up me knows my father isn’t invulnerable, any more than any of us are. The grown up me knows it’s our heavenly Father, and not my human one, who protects and provides. (And infinitely more besides.)
Still, it’s unsettling. My father is not a young man any more, but in his 60s, it seems too early for him to have need for such procedures.
Well, also literally early, today. We were up in the small hours to come to the hospital. And now he’s “back there” getting readied, and we’re waiting. And when we’re done waiting for him to be ready, we’ll wait for the surgery to begin, and to complete. Lots of waiting.
My father is in good hands. He’s in Our Father’s hands. So I am not worried, per se.
But it’s a day of waiting, and waiting is not easy.