Wow. So much has been going on... Last week I was in Chicago to watch Jon graduate from Naval basic training. Even before that, though, my dad was admitted into the hospital. Monday night he said he could hear his heart pounding in his head and that he felt a little dizzy. Tuesday, he calls me in the middle of the day to say that he's at the hospital and they're admitting him and keeping him overnight. He had a bunch of tests run on him that night and they found out he has a tear in his carotid artery. This tear is causing his blood pressure to sky rocket at times and at others to drop. He's had an even bigger migraine than normal as well. Not to mention that for at least a week, his left pupil was smaller than his right... All of this was going on RIGHT before we were set to go see Jon. My mom was saying she didn't think he'd get to go and alternate plans were already being arranged just in case. I talked to him on and off all day Wednesday. With some prayer and medication, his blood pressure was down and stable and they were clearing him to not only go home, but to fly the next morning. The past week since then hasn't been fun for my dad exactly as far as his health goes. Things were on and off in Chicago, but he managed it well. We get back and immediately I'm sick. The next day he goes in to his doctor to get checked out. Nothing new; not much different. Constantly I'd ask him "How are you feeling? How's your head? Your eye? What's your blood pressure at?" He checked his blood pressure regularly. Yesterday morning started out nicely. He woke up with no pain in his head, nothing bugging him. We were ecstatic, but not counting our chickens. Two pm comes around and his blood pressure starts climbing. By five, it's at 202/98. Ideal blood pressure is a little below 120/80 ((Mine sits at 113/76)), normal is 120/80. Normal for my dad runs higher anyways, but since this had been running in the 150-160 range. His doctors knew and said that wasn't the spot to worry at. When he read the 202/98, he called for me and asked me to come hang out with him because he was worried about it. We talked about him going to the hospital, he called his doctors and I jumped in the shower. Within twenty minutes we were out the door and headed to Northwest. We were there for five or six hours last night at least. The highest I saw his blood pressure climb last night was 221/113. Not good. He was released last night and sent home with some new medication to hopefully regulate his blood pressure better. This morning as I'm walking out the door to go to church, he tells me his blood pressure is extremely low. He said he wasn't going anywhere and that I should go anyways. Later on, his face started going numb. He's now in the hospital again, admitted, and staying over night. Again. They don't want to do surgery if they don't have to, but so far things don't seem to be changing much except for the symptoms.

Back to Chicago... The flight over with dad was fun. We were in the same row, but on exact opposite sides of the plane. We made friends with the people around us like we always do ((I definitely get that from him)), watched movies and snacked. The best flight that trip, however, was our connecting flight from Chicago to Milwaukee. The flight was at three thirty, I believe, and we were in the sky as the sun was setting. The amazing thing about the land out there is that it's FLAT. And when I say flat, I don't mean country farm land of Washington flat. I mean straight, laid out, see for miles and miles and miles flat. With the sun going down over the edge of the land, looking out of the window and flying only a mile or two above ground, the sky looked like it was on fire and the ground seemed as if it twinkled with all of the street, house and car lights. It was incredible. I wish I could've gotten pictures. My dad and I were the first to arrive at the hotel with my mom and Jacob following behind not too long after. That night as Jacob was hanging out with my myself and my dad in our hotel room, my mom calls and asks my dad to go on a walk with her... Not something usual. When he comes back, he tells us that she informed him of the arrival of her boyfriend later that night.

He's the answer to my silence, he's my sound

It's interesting what you'll hear from God when you just listen... I think so often, especially for myself, I expect answers to my questions always even when I don't ask them. I guess in my mind, I just figure that God knows every thought I have, so why actually ask? But really, if you could read minds, you wouldn't sit there answering questions for everyone just because they thought them. Not to be a Twilight freak, but it's kind of like with Edward. He can hear the thoughts of the people around him and unless asked or "spoken" to directly, he doesn't just respond to people's thoughts. So I imagine it's the same way for God... While he can hear everything in our heads, if we don't ask directly, he probably won't just answer unless we need it. Horrible that I just compared a fictional vampire to my amazing Father, but it just goes to show where we are in culture (: All this to say He and I dialogued last night and He calmed my nerves about some things. Well, one thing in particular: James. While I love James more than I'm positive I've loved any other human being, sometimes my brain can't wrap itself around the concept that he fits into my life perfectly and is supposed to be there. Often when you follow God, you hear about laying down your life, giving everything over to God and letting His will be done and not our own. I guess at some point for me, that translated into the possibility that I'd have to give up one for the other. While I've wrestled with this for a while, it wasn't until last night that I really asked the questions and got my answers. I'd just like to stop for a second and say how faithful God is to answer questions when we ask. He always has an answer for us and is willing to give it if we are willing to hear it. Sunday night Phil invited the interns to his and Emily's house to worship and wrestle with our questions and struggles together. As Dave started playing songs and as Phil was speaking beforehand, it was apparent to me what God wanted to talk about, what He wanted me to ask questions about. So I did. Phil gave us pen and paper and said to write. I didn't keep it, so I can't say exactly what I wrote, but I went through a wrestling process with God. I asked questions. I asked whether or not this was right because some sick and twisted part of me felt like maybe it possibly wasn't. The thought of that was gut wrenching... I talked to Him about a you vs them situation with the two of them. Whether or not I had to choose. Would I be called to leave everything and everyone including James? Would God do that? Then the questions turned to my priorities... Were they in the wrong place? If God was ripped out of my life, would it hurt just as bad, if not worse, than the thought of James being gone? Would I be the same person? Could I exist on some level of contentment? The very basic answer to almost all of these questions was, and is, 'no'. After I had struggled with the first few, God just said "Look at Phil and Emily. Look at Syrina and Evan." Essentially His question to me was whether or not, knowing what they mean to the other, would they succeed apart from each other? Would He ever dream of doing that? Once again, the answer was 'no'. He wouldn't separate them... He wouldn't have created specifically the one for the other just to call them away from each other. He's not sadistic and that's not how He works. When it came to the questions about my separation from God, I already knew the answers... Removing God from me would take away the very heart of my life. I struggle and fail a lot at centering my life around Him at all times like I should and sometimes I don't say what I should say or do what I should do, but He's at the core of who I am and the things I want. Taking Him out would remove a lot more from my life than just Himself. So, no, I wouldn't be the same person and I really couldn't live on some level of contentment with that kind of hole in my chest. The answer to end all questions for the night was this: "It's not about a choice". He's not asking me to choose. He never has in this situation and He never will. One for the other, both for Him. Does that mean I won't ask it again? Probably not... I'm sure that sick and twisted part of me will rear its head again and doubt things that have the most simple of answers and if and when I do, He'll tell me the same thing: it's not about a choice.