I’ve come to this place where I’ve realized I’m truly not in control.  It’s only taken thirty years, but I’m finally starting to get it.  I mean, the whole of this life is not in my hands at all. And lately, it’s as if I can honestly hear God’s tender voice beckoning me to Him.  That still, small, but majestic whisper of, “come“. I’m chatting with my Dad, it’s a normal conversation on a Tuesday morning.  We’re discussing a book I’m reading when all of a sudden I hear: “Oh my… I gotta go.” “What, Dad?” “Gotta go, they’ve got Grandpa on a stretcher, he’s going in the ambulance.  Call you back.”…