Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him. Psalm 103:13

36 years ago, my Dad sat with me in a podiatrist office while I underwent minor surgery on both feet. I remember that day. I was flat on my back half attempting to read a “People” magazine while Dad sat beside me and let me squeeze his hand with a death grip as the needles bit my toes. Best surgery ever. At least after the fact. I never again in the next 36 years had trouble with ingrown toenails and infections. Still don’t.

Mom was upset with Dad for allowing me to go through with the procedures. I had been through enough surgeries at that point, and whether it was financial strain or concern for daughter or Mom just being Mom, it caused a divide for a time.  But Dad said, “I’ll be there with you,” and he was.

36 years later, I was flat on my back this afternoon in pre-op, waiting to be wheeled in to the operating room for minor surgery on one of the same toes, and Dad sat beside me, waiting patiently, ever my caretaker and companion…

I am grateful for minor. I can do minor. Leave the majors to Sam.

I am grateful for pillows under my foot, great for elevation.

I am grateful for a whole can of tomato soup tonight, first food of the day.

I am grateful that I don’t get nauseous after googling metatarsal cheilectomy images.

I am grateful for one ugly boot.

I am grateful for a spur-less toe.

I am grateful for the kindest nurses and podiatrist.

And I am grateful that my Dad and my Father are still by my side, watching over me 36 years later.