I will never forget the moment my dad told me he had Pulmonary Fibrosis. My mom had just cooked supper and I was a 25 year old teacher, whose worries and concerns at the time was lesson plans and grading papers. All of that changed when Dad said, “I have something very important to tell you.” I think I knew in that moment that something wasn’t right. He told me that he had not felt well for some time and after a few doctor’s visits, he had Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. In disbelief, I asked, “What does that mean?” I knew what it meant, but I needed reassurement that there was treatment, but most of all I needed hope. This horrible disease wasn’t something new for my family. My dad’s mother, my grandmother, had passed away from it several years before. At that time there wasn’t any medicine or a cure, so in that moment my mind raced to the worse possible outcome. In fact, later that night, I googled IPF only to see my fears, come true. Pulmonary Fibrosis was a terminal disease. The only way to cure the disease was through lung transplantation. Anger, fear, and resentment swept over me.  I was in disbelief that this could happen to my dad and my family. It was on that day that I finally realized that bad things happen and no one is of exemption.

For the next two years, I watched my dad bravely battle the horrible disease. He went from working out everyday to carrying an oxygen tank everywhere he went. I remember one morning I went into my parent’s bathroom to borrow makeup from my mom. It was there that I found my Dad coughing uncontrollably. His face was so red and he was gasping for air. Fear swept over my whole body. I tried not to sound worried, but asked him if he was okay. After a few minutes, he composed himself and said, “I’m okay.” I could clearly tell that he wasn’t even close to okay. But that’s how he carried himself for five years. He bravely battled through his suffering with an unwavering faith in God and a positive spirit. No matter how bad he felt, God was still great and each day was a good day. It was his journey that taught me that my bad days aren’t really that bad, and that my suffering is nothing compared to the cross.

A few days after my dad died, I searched for some kind of letter, scripture, or note that he had written that I could keep and carry with me forever. My dad was always an encourager to me and I was really needing some motivation from him. After searching for awhile with no luck, I prayed for God to reveal something to me. The next paper I flipped over was this verse: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds.” James 1:2. It was another reminder to me that there is good in everything we face in this life.  Sometimes we have to search hard to find it, and sometimes it is right in front of us. And God is always there, to meet us with what we need exactly when we need it.

John 16:33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”