A little over two years ago I walked through the swinging doors of the intensive care unit that would lead me to the room where my dad lay hooked up to machines I had only seen on a medical TV show; where I had rushed to be at his side, called from too far away.
 I had been in an ICU room with my pastor/husband to visit family and friends in life-threatening, critical condition. But it had never been this personal, it had never been my dad. The smells and sounds were foreign and intrusive. I could not remember a time when I had been more intimidated as I walked the corridors of an eerie intensive care unit. This was serious business. I knew as I walked toward his room I was not ready for what would meet me on the other side, but my dad needed me, it was not about me this time. I desperately needed God, another opportunity to grasp His hand, I could not do this alone. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that He was with me. I grabbed the Hand of God as I walked to my Dad’s bedside.
Few words were needed as he grasped my hand, whispering 'I knew you would come, will you stay with me and hold my hand?' Those were the last words I heard my dad say.
“Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand”
Psalm 73:23
“The hand of our God is for good on all who seek him…” 
Ezra 8:22
The next forty-eight hours the descent into the valley was dark and cold. I kept saying to my dad, who was now unconscious, the Lord is with you, but trying to convince myself that I was not alone. I was trusting God each second, pleading with Him to go with me and someday use this to transform me into the image of His Son, Jesus.
“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”  
2 Corinthians 3:18

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