A Day in the Life

So I'm taking a friend's advice and just writing about anything. I was getting frustrated at not having any "inspiration" on what to write about. She told me good writers write about all sorts of mundane things. What separates good writers from average ones is that when you've finished reading about the mundane, you're thankful that you've just read it. You were drawn in and responded to the words. Response is the apex of good writing. So here goes:

Don't you love it when you try to save time by e-filing your taxes and you get a return email saying your information does not match last years e-file and you didn't even e-file in the prior year? So instead I'm filling out the paper form to mail in. Lately, my life is filled with forms. Financial aid for my college-bound son, tax forms, annuity forms for my late father, applications for aid for my mom in the nursing home. My head is swimming. Oh to curl up by the fire with a fun book! But then I think of the moments that keep me sane. My 9-year-old cuddled up next to me on the couch while we read the next exciting chapter of Harry Potter. Then there's the ooey, gooey, fudgy warm brownie downed with icy cold milk. Watching the embers dying in the fireplace sets me at peace for the night's sleep ahead. All in all, it was a mundane day, but it was my day.

Jesus Wept

Yesterday, I had a meltdown. I've had a few lately. Usually some trigger sets me off. Yesterday, it was a favorite hymn of my dad. I could just picture him singing this in the car while driving down the interstate on one of our many long-distance trips. I was comfortingly in the backseat, often sleeping or at least lying down attempting to enter that state that would make the miles seem shorter. My dad spent those time-filled miles either singing or quoting scripture while my mom would check him for accuracy. He could quote entire books of the Bible.

Anyway, back to yesterday. I quickly left the chair I had been sitting in at the nursing home (visiting my mom and trying to cheer her up--really did well with that). I hurried to my mom's room and sobbed uncontrollably. The tears just wouldn't stop. I tried to logically tell myself, This is ridiculous, just stop. Haven't you just spent the last 10 years watching your dad depart this life, step by step, inch by inch. When I finally got composed enough to tell the CNA I had to leave and to explain to my mom why I didn't return to the hymn sing, I ducked out a side door. I just could not stay any longer. As soon as I got to my truck, I let loose again. Try driving with tears and snot running down your face. I probably should have pulled over but I just wanted to get home.

Grief is strange. It hits you at the strangest and most inopportune times. We try to be so strong about life's trials and not be "weak". I want the "joy of the Lord" to be my strength. Does joy allow for tears? Yes. My greatest comfort is in John 11. "Jesus wept". Death caused Jesus himself great human pain and grief. His friend had died. Jesus let it out and wept. He was not just sad or unhappy, He wept. To me, that indicates a bit of time; it involved much sorrow that needed to be released. Death has a sting to it, but thankfully it is not forever.

So for now, the tears will flow freely at any given moment. Don't be uncomfortable with them; don't try to fix them. Just hug me and pass the Kleenex.

REVELATION (read at my dad's memorial service 2/6/2010)

Parents are supposed to teach their children many things in life. How to walk, talk, keep clean, eat properly and eventually, how to function as adults in society. But there are some things that are very important for a father to teach his children that can change their life forever. I was blessed to have a father that cared to teach me the most important thing in life. My father showed me MY FATHER.

My father demonstrated unconditional, sacrificial love to me. I never thought anything other than that my daddy loved me so much, he would go to any length to help me have the best future I could. Whether that meant sacrificing what little he had so that I could attend a Christian school, or playing “just one more” game of dominoes, or a comforting hug after I banged up my car. He just wanted me to know a father’s love that valued his child above all else. My father showed me MY FATHER.

My father always provided for my needs. I didn’t necessarily have everything I wanted, but dad always knew what I needed even when I had no clue what that was. I always had plenty to eat but he also made sure my spirit was fed. I remember him helping me to learn Bible verses; he showed me his “system” to real memorization. And it worked; I can still recite John 1 and several Psalms that are locked in my heart forever. We had devotions every morning before heading off to school. I often would rather have spent the time either cramming for a 1st period test or just being lost in my own thoughts, but my dad knew this is what I needed to build within my life—Godly character not just educational success. He was a good provider – for the spirit, soul and body. My father showed me MY FATHER.

As a child I never had a care in the world. I knew my father would take care of everything for me. Did I ever worry about food on the table, the mortgage being paid, or what tomorrow would bring? Those things never crossed my mind because my dad took care of it all. I never had to be afraid when my daddy was nearby. He kept me safe and secure. I could completely trust my father. But that was only because he trusted HIS FATHER. My father showed me MY FATHER.

My father had great joy in his children. He loved hearing of their accomplishments in life. He was so proud of the electrician, the computer programmer, the carpenter, the teacher, the scientist, the manager and the mom. He loved getting the family together for holidays and vacations. As a child, I can remember a living room full of yelling and cheering as they watched football together. Spending time goofing around on York Beach was a thrill for him too. Cuddling up with grandkids was always a treat. As we all grew and went off to our various parts of the country, I know he treasured any time he could spend with his family. My father showed me MY FATHER.

Dad knew there was right and wrong. He tried his best to relay that to his children and his congregations. Maybe he was a little too “zealous” some might say, but that was only because he understood the consequences of going the wrong way. He passionately wanted everyone he had contact with to choose the “narrow way which leads to life”. His heart longed for everyone to “Come to Jesus, and Live.” My father showed me MY FATHER.

Unlike my Heavenly Father, my earthly father was not perfect and I think he knew this and struggled with this. One memory I have that will stay with me forever occurred just 3 years ago. I took my parents to see the Amazing Grace movie at the theater. The closing scene of the movie is a powerful one. A contingent of Scottish bagpipers is playing that most famous hymn in front of Westminster Abbey. The swells of the music enveloped us in the theater audience. I looked over at my dad and tears were rolling down his face. He never could fathom God’s “Amazing Grace that saved a wretch like me”. This is what I received from my father, a glimpse of the Amazing Grace of MY FATHER. I am truly grateful …my father showed me MY FATHER.