9/27/2015
8:34 PM

From time to time, I have moments (though fleeting) when I doubt the divine rightness of the universe – of God.

But then, almost immediately comes the assurance of what I know to be true – that the things worth the most can neither be bought or sold, that the world is filled with fools, and that the abundance of one never seems to lessen the abundance of the other.

Yesterday, after visiting with daddy, I took the long way home, past cemeteries grown over with weeds, and roads nearly impassable. I stopped near a creek where once I fished, once I swam by moonlight.

I rushed home, knowing I had work to catch up on. But I was unable to connect remotely; so, I logged a ticket, made some notes, and let it go.

This morning, after coffee on the porch, I tried anew. Another attempt after church proved the same. No luck, and in a bit, I set off to visit daddy again.

I was blessed that I was the only one, and enjoyed what few understand – quiet without the need for anything more; the simple blessing of being together. Volumes spoken without the need for word.

I sat on the edge of the bed, but when dad complained I was hurting his leg, I moved a chair closer, rearranged his covers and settled in. Within minutes, he asked if I would sit on the bed, offering to move over so that I would have room.

I suggested what I thought was a better idea.

‘How about I move you over and I lay down with you? I could use a nap, and I can’t think of a sweeter place to take one.’

He smiled. ‘Would you like that, daddy?’

‘Yes’

For the next three hours, we slept, me curled against his side with my arm across him, his fingers wrapped around mine. Occasionally, a nurse would stop in, but no one dared disturb us.

Tomorrow may bring clients upset that their work didn’t get done, but the worth of today far outweighs any pay they might have offered. Today, I realized (once again) that I am rich beyond words, and I’m grateful to the technology gods who insisted I spend the last two days as I should, as I have. ❤

Heaven is always closer than we know.

. . .