This probably should be a patriotic post about the Fourth of July. But it is not.
My parents are finally on their way home. They have been in Peru for about three weeks helping to care for my grandfather who suddenly became very ill with pneumonia. They had been to Peru to visit in April. That's right two international trips in two months. And believe me, this second trip was anything but a vacation.
I know this because I could hear in their voices on the phone the weariness in their bodies, minds and hearts. I made my heart ache to hear and know the heavy burden my parents carried. And it made my heart burst with pride and love as well. I don't think my parents will ever stop teaching me. Do you understand what I mean? I mean teaching me those deep, mysterious lessons about sacrifice and love. About hope, fortitude and relying on God's grace. To tell you my parents dealt with this crisis with grace is such an understatement. I can't describe it adequately except to say that it is perhaps one of the most beautiful living portraits of love in action I have ever seen. All I can do now is daily beg our Lord to enable me to imitate them in a way that will give Him glory as well.
And my grandfather. He teaches me as well. He came through this difficult illness and is slowly recovering. Never give up. Never lose hope. Fight hard. He was a general in the Peruvian army. He proved himself through and through.
Of course, we can never know what the future brings, even what the next month will bring. But I know that when I look through the eyes of faith, Our Lord always is ready with a new lesson.