It's been one week now since we almost lost my dad to a heart attack.
And when I say almost, I mean his heart stopped pumping and they had to shock him twice to bring him back while he was being med-flighted to Madison.
I've wanted to write about this all week. I've thought about. I've wished I could write.
But I'm still processing all the emotions, all the what ifs, all that transpired in those few short hours.
The phone call from my sister that made me crumble to the floor, sobbing harder than I knew I even could.
The prayers and hugs from my pastor and church family who "happened" to be near me at the time.
The myriad of phone calls to family and friends.
The ride to my parents' house to pick up my younger siblings.
The eternity-long drive to Madison, not knowing if he'd be dead or alive when we got there.
The walk across the skybridge to the cardiac elevators at the hospital.
Finding my mom and other siblings in the cardiac ICU waiting room.
Hearing that his heart had stopped pumping but that they were able to bring him back.
Waiting for the cardiac surgeon to come out and talk with us.
The arrival of my family's pastor and some of my parents' closest friends.
The cardiac surgeon coming out and telling us how "lucky" Dad is (and we are).
The questions and answers.
More phone calls.
News that Dad had been moved from recovery to his ICU room and that all EIGHTEEN of us could go in and see him.
Walking in and seeing his face and hearing his voice.
The HUGE circle of family and church family surrounding his entire bed and absolutely filling that ICU room.
The circle of prayer.
The squeezing of his hand and getting to kiss him on the cheek.
The running around of our friends to get us supper at 11:00pm.
The figuring out what siblings would stay in Madison with Mom.
The long drive back home in the wee hours of the morning.
The trying to fall asleep.
The waking up after way too little sleep and instantly beginning to receive and handle all the phone calls, texts, emails, etc.
The extreme emotional and physical exhaustion.
The outpouring of love and food from friends and church family.
The drive back down to Madison to see Dad again and bring supper to the family members that had been there all day.
The trying to get back to normal life after almost having our whole world shattered.
The shaking up, the wake up call, the fears of knowing this could happen again.
This is what I'm trying to process.
And I'm learning I need to patient with myself and allow this process to draw me closer to my Savior and to my family.
We sang this song during worship this morning and it made me all teary.
In the mean time, I'm just so thankful.
Thankful that I still have a father on this earth.
Thankful for the incredible love and support our family has received over the past seven days.
Thankful for Tom & Amy, Mike & Robyn, Greg, Sarah, & Isaiah who came down and were with us that night in the hospital. It meant the world.
Thankful for Subway pizzas at 11:00pm.
Thankful for doctors and nurses who God used to save my dad's life.
Thankful that his heart didn't stop pumping before he got to medical care.
Thankful for the dozens and dozens and dozens of people praying.
Thankful for so many moments of laughter during this week that could have been the most tragic and tear-filled of our lives.
Thankful for all the food that has kept my family fed this past week.
Thankful to go to worship with my family and hear the testimonies from last Sunday night from the perspective of both my dad and our friends who were with us that night.
Thankful to hear my dad's voice during the praise and worship time.
I'm just so thankful.
So I'll continue to work through the emotions, continue to learn to trust God instead of living in constant fear of the next heart attack, continue to count the innumerable blessings in my life and be thankful in all things.
God is so good.