John Welty: December 25, 1941-June 24, 2011

Today's blog is a conglomeration of thoughts about my dad so just bear with me as I work this dedication to my dad.

My dad was a warrior. Even in the hospital bed he never stopped working for Christ. I thought it was unfinished business. Talk to this person, make sure this person knows that, plant the garden, take care of this, go, go, go. Then I realized, when a warrior's battle is over, it's time for him to go home, but until he goes home, he just keeps going, he just keeps working, because that's what he's supposed to do. Dad kept gardening, he kept telling people about Jesus, even the nurses and doctors, he kept going to school, he kept going, going, going. Because that's what he's supposed to do. It's not about unfinished business. It's about doing Jesus' work until it's time to go home. Dad worked until God called him home. Dad was ready. He was done.

"Legacy-n. Something handed down by a predecessor."
My dad's legacy is too enormous to describe in a blog-I think the best place to begin is his 4 children. I am the oldest with 1 sister and 2 brothers. We are all here comforting my mom, taking care of my mom and each other. Consoling, comforting, and loving each other. Dad's legacy to us is our family. We understand that through thick and thin, no matter what, we are a family, and families MUST love each other, accept each other, think beyond the stupid little things, put our crap aside, don't squabble or gripe. We stick together. Growing up, Dad wouldn't let us fight or be angry with each other for too long. I remember him telling me: "You are sisters and brothers-you treat each other right because someday they may be the only family you have! You get along because that's what you're supposed to do!" As the oldest, my dad always told me it was my job to be responsible for my sister and brothers, I had to take care of them. The last few weeks I've watched my sister and baby brother reach out to help me, take care of me. I can see my dad in their comfort and care.

What my dad taught me: Do something. "It doesn't matter what you do, as long as you do something." "You can do whatever you want, but you must do something." I taught my kids the same thing, but this lesson has helped me in another way:
A few weeks ago I went through the feelings of, "how in the world am I going to be able to get through my dad's illness and finish my college classes at the same time?" I mentioned this to 2 classmate friends and these 2 sweet young women immediately reminded me that I had to keep going, that dad would be proud of me, and I couldn't just give up because this is my life and I would regret giving up. Then I heard my dad's voice. Something like: "this is life, you just keep going, just do it. Life doesn't stop, you gotta work, you gotta finish." and "I didn't raise any quitters." How am I going to get through my final this week? 5 more weeks of summer school.  I'm going to just do it. Just keep going. My dad won't be at my graduation next year, but I will finish.

In everything you do, do your best. In whatever you do, you put your best foot forward, no matter what. Because of this, I can't just do what I can to get by in college. I strive to get the best grade. Take that extra minute to make my assignments perfect, get that A. I'm an English major. Math makes my head explode, but I had to take 3 math classes before I could transfer to University. Dad knew I was horrible in math, but you should have seen us explode in joyful tears when I told him I got an A in algebra. I did my best, I did the hard work and I worked hard, because of what he taught me.

That reminds me, I have homework I need to finish. I may add more stuff to this later.

warrior-noun. a brave or experienced soldier or fighter

I love the Oxford English Dictionary.

I've been using the word "warrior" lately to describe most of my dad's visitors during his hospitalization. I'm glad I chose that word. You see, these visitors proudly, joyfully and willingly hold my dad's hand and pray with him and whoever else is in the room. They are brave soldiers and experienced fighters using the best weapon in the fight against cancer. These warriors pray, pray, and pray some more. They pray in love, in admiration, in adoration of our heavenly Father and in their deep felt love for my dad.

The warriors just keep showing up for the fight. Especially today. My dad took a turn for the worse. Right now he is in ICU with a respirator, low blood pressure, anemia and fighting an infection. I emailed a friend at 6:30am and the wildfire of praying warriors began. The text messages and emails poured in. By 8:30am a warrior walked into my dad's ICU room to pray for him, whisper in his ear, comfort my mom, my whole family. A few more warriors showed up. And they prayed. Men and women who willingly fight the brave fight for my dad. (At this writing he has had a blood transfusion, his blood pressure is slowly improving and still on the respirator)

I thought I was done crying. I guess not.

I tell you, if I am loved half as much as my dad when I'm his age, I will be truly blessed.

These warriors have reminded me what a difference being a prayer warrior makes.

I am glad I chose that word.

Family Vacations

Did your family take those long vacations when you were a kid? You know the kind: mom and dad pack up and get the kids in the car and we're on the road before sunrise to go to somewhere for a family vacation that took what felt like forever to get there. We inundated dad with questions like "are we there yet?" "How much longer?" "what time is lunch?" "When are we stopping?" and so on...Every two years we took a vacation to Washington and the drive (back then) was three days. Three stinking long days. It was the longest three days in the entire world! 

I find myself feeling that exact same way when thinking about my sister and my dad and the road they both have ahead of them. My sister will begin a six month regimen of chemotherapy in 2 weeks. Six stinking long months. My dad's recovery from surgery has faltered a little, but we already knew it could be a long recovery; 4-6 months plus when he eventually begins his chemo. This is going to be the longest year in the entire world!

There were two great things about family vacation. Finally getting to the destination and having a blast where every it was and finally reaching home at the end of vacation. That feeling of "we're here!"

There's quite a few variables in what's going on with my dad and my sister. The journey is going to be alot bumpier and treacherous than a family vacation road trip. But the destination. Finally reaching home. Finally getting to say "we're here!" no matter where that "here" is. Either our heavenly home (which to some of you may sound morbid, and it puts an ache in heart to think that way, but with Christ as my redeemer and comforter I celebrate that) or cancer free, in the end the destination makes the journey worth it.

Cancer

Wouldn't it be great if Cancer's only definition was an astrological sign? (Ironically, it's my sign) Unfortunately, it's not.
Two weeks ago, my father had what I think is called the "Whipple" surgery for pancreatic cancer. 1/3 of his pancreas was removed. The 2/3 pancreas that is left is cancer free, but he will undergo chemotherapy in a few months to combat cancer found in two lymph nodes.

On the morning of my father's surgery, my younger sister had a doctor appointment. She was diagnosed with breast cancer. She is still waiting for a couple of tests. It may be genetic. If that test is positive, my father will be tested, then the rest of his children and so on. She will begin chemo soon and prepare for a mastectomy in a few months. At this point the prognosis is good. The hope is she will recover, but she has a long road ahead of her. I thank God for her husband. He is a wonderful man.

Thus begins this family's battle with cancer. The un-astrological kind.

Now what? What do I do now? I pray. I be the tough, big sister. I pray. I be the attentive, supporting daughter. I pray. I didn't allow myself to cry for a long time. This last Sunday, while I held my sister's hand, she informed my parents. She cried, mom cried. We all sat in dismay, shell-shocked. My dad, weakened by his surgery, and humbly dependent on his family to take care of him (his recovery is going well, by the way) finally had a small opportunity to take care of his family as he ordered us to come around him, hold hands and he prayed for my sister, for himself, for our family and for God's will to be done. I still did not cry.

The next day I'm driving in my car and the first song I hear is "Our God" by Chris Tomlin (click you-tube below) and I couldn't stop myself from crying. I was in agony. I begged God to take away the agony, take away the fear. I thanked Him for His strength in my life and for being greater, higher and more powerful than cancer. A friend heard the same song while reading the email I sent with the news of my sister. God did that for some reason.

Have I ever shared with you my favorite bible verse? Psalm 147:3-"He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds." An email from a pastor at church reminded me of this verse. God heals. Many of my friends reminded me that He is the Great Physician. Whatever the outcome, we will be ok. We will be healed, heart, body and soul.

I don't know how, but I think this will be some kind of testament from our family to...whoever. For now, we wait and see. Take one day at a time. We love each other, comfort each other, care for each other. We pray.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlA5IDnpGhc&feature=share