thousands of angels.

I am sitting in my dad's room in the Critical Care Unit where he has been for sixteen days. In the past three weeks he has survived at least one minor heart attack, one major heart attack, and, this past Monday, ten hours of surgery including three intense cardiac procedures. He is a fighter.

But today, he is tired.

We all are. But we will keep fighting.

It is not clear how much of the last twenty days Dad remembers. This morning when I got here for the first alotted visit, he asked, "How did you find me?" I smiled and explained that he has been here a while, but maybe it is best if he doesn't remember it all. He agreed.

As I watch him lie here trying to sleep -- in the same hospital bed he has been confined to for weeks, and in spite of the collection of tubes and machines that surround it -- I wonder what images, thoughts and memories are playing in his mind. I wish desperately that I could fill it with peace and hope and a slideshow of every beautiful moment of his life, particularly those of chasing grandbabies and chauffeuring grandchildren around in a golf cart on a perfect blue-sky day. I wish I could know that he feels encouraged, deep in the core of his being, knowing that he will soon return home to the life and family he loves.

Watching him sleep, I keep repeating the bridge of Patty Griffin's song "Nobody's Cryin'" in my mind. If you don't know Patty, get to know her and quickly. The woman crafts stunning melodies and bridges so beautiful they will take your breath away. This one is my favorite...

"May you dream you are dreaming in a warm, soft bed,
And may the voices inside you that fill you with dread
Make the sound of thousands of angels instead,
Tonight where you might be laying your head."

Amen.

My dad is a fighter. As long as he keeps fighting, inside these hospital walls or out, we will fight with him. Better still, I know we are not fighting alone.