Silk Road Seoul (4)

          Through all the disappointing moments and frustrating circumstances, I decided to stay positive and trust God. I clearly felt the difference. This new “que sera, sera” Kelli was a complete departure from my normal, neurotic self. The devil knows how to push my buttons and I often fall for the provocation but this time it did not work so he changed strategies and attacked my family.

            My plane ticket was for Monday, December 15, 2014. On the 10th, my mom ventured out to take groceries to a church member. It was raining so for my mom, who prefers not to drive under such conditions, it was no bueno. Good Samaritan that she is, bless her heart, mom made the trip. On the way, as she was coming to a stop at a red light, her car cut off without warning. No power meant no steering. There was a car stopped ahead of her in her lane and a car approaching from behind in the adjacent lane. By the grace of God she had just enough momentum and maneuverability to drift into the other lane in front of the approaching car, narrowly avoiding the one in front of her, before coming to a stop. When the light changed, she coasted to the red light at the next intersection and restarted her car. It worked! Despite the scare, she came home transferred all the groceries to my tiny car and continued to her destination. Naturally, I was glad she got back safely and touched by her awesomeness. It is amazing the things that happen when you try to do good for someone else.

            Later on that day I went to hang out with my friends since it was supposed to be the last time I would see them for a year. I was super careful in driving after hearing about mom’s near collision. After hamming it up with the homies, I headed home. As I pulled out, I just felt this urge to get home. No hunch, premonition or bad vibes, I just felt like I needed to get home in a hurry. It was 1:00 am Friday when I got home. The inside door was wide open and the light was on, which was unusual. Mom was walking through the living room. She was cooking when I left (if you don’t believe in God, you might after you taste her cheesecake) and it was unlikely that she still was. “I know she’s not still making these cheesecakes”, I thought. She was on the phone, which was even more unusual for that time of the morning. I walked up to the door and hesitated. “Come inside”, she said. I went in and eyed her warily because clearly something was wrong and she said, “Go downstairs, your father’s throwing up blood”.

            I am not usually squeamish but seeing so much blood at once was alarming. There was a large bloodstain on the floor. My dad was sitting on the edge of the couch with a bloody paper bag between his feet. He was spaced out and sweating bullets. I have never seen anyone sweat so profusely. It was scary. All I could do was call on Jesus over and over between wiping dad’s sweat and asking him if he was in pain; thankfully, he was not. The paramedics came downstairs and I went up just before they carried my dad up. It was heartbreaking to see him carried like that but he was too weak to walk. The paramedics needed room to work in the ambulance so I was told to sit up front of the ambulance. There was a small, window separating back and front but I could not see much of my dad. I turned around and sighed thinking, “what now” and my mind was just blank. Whether I was talking to God, or myself I do not know. At some point the EMT driving and I spoke but I do not even remember what was said. My mom followed the ambulance in dad’s van and by 1:17 am we were in the emergency room.

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