sunsets and sunrises

It's been two weeks. In that time I've tried to figure out how do I say my dad has died? How do I say those words without feeling like they are coming across as calloused? How do I process before I feel?

The feelings finally came and they came like a tsunami, crashing over me and leveling me. When my father in law died my grief came quickly and intensely. When my dad died the reality of his death and the subsequent torrent of emotion took nearly two weeks. Both of the men I've called dad are gone and it feels vulnerable. 

He'd call me his darling daughter Dawn. I would grin and reply by calling him my darling father Dad. When asked what he wanted for his birthday, Christmas, Father's Day he would respond with "a basket full of hundred dollar bills". One year I decided to give him his basket full of hundred dollar bills. I bought money designed wrapping paper and cut out each individual "bill" and put them in a basket. He laughed so hard. It remains to this day my second favorite gift I ever gave him.

If you asked him how he was he'd say "finer than frog's hair." I'd giggle and tell him frogs didn't have hair. Eventually he moved on to saying "never been better." That was how he became known to friends and strangers alike. His gravestone will even include the words never been better. 

When I was a teenager, a traumatic event rocked my world. I pushed through and buried my emotions until they spilled over and I just couldn't push through anymore. My dad knew I had reached my breaking point. He called me out from school and took me to the arcade to blow off steam. I don't remember what I played or what we had for lunch that day or what we talked about or even if we talked at all. What I remember is how I felt. I felt seen and protected and loved. That day recharged my emotional tank and gave me the strength to keep pushing through the situation. 

When I was little and I'd have a nightmare, it was my dad who held me. He'd let me fall asleep on his chest and carry me back to bed. During baseball season my grandpa would come over and sit in the chair and my dad would lay on the couch; I'd lay next to my dad, squishing him terribly but he never complained, and I would fall asleep with the sound of his heartbeat in one ear and the sound of the Cardinals game in the other ear. 

Listening to his heartbeat was comforting. The sound of my daddy's heartbeat always brought my anxiety down. It was like in those moments I could believe everything would end up ok no matter how chaotic it was at the time. And now, the heartbeat of my dad, the most comforting sound of my childhood has stopped.

Dad, I love you. I'm glad I got to video chat with you shortly before you left. Until we meet again, my darling father Dad. 

Do It Afraid

I went into my boss's office last week frazzled and emotional.  I landed in the chair across from her desk and said, "Can we just pray for a minute?"  I LOVE that I work in a place that when the day is overwhelming I can stop, breathe and pray with someone.  It wasn't even work that had me feeling crazy but that's ok where I work. 

I was recently asked to be a guest blogger for a blog series.  I agreed without thinking it through and also expecting that I would be given a direction, an angle if you will, of what the blog author wanted me to cover.  I offered several things that I could easily cover and the response was basically, yeah all of those sound good so just pick one.  Ok, that in itself was overwhelming.  The people pleaser, perfectionist inside of me wanted her to tell me what she wanted so I could deliver exactly the right thing.  

I vented to my boss for a minute, in a rather generic here's the overview kind of a way.  I bemoaned that I am afraid.  I'm afraid of where God is leading me and I've spent the last year arguing with Him that He probably wants someone more equipped to go the direction He is indicating.  Before we prayed she offered me two pieces of wisdom.  One I am keeping private simply because it is a specifically identifying piece.  The other however has ministered to me over and over.  She said this, "Do it afraid."

What?  Don't I need courage to do this?  Don't I need God to give me strength first, for Him to perfect me and then use me?  No, I don't.  She reminded me that being uncertain is something I have in common with most of the people God used in the Bible.  Moses argued with God until God finally said, "Fine, take Aaron.  He'll do the part you are scared of."  Don't you think Joshua was afraid to march around the wall of Jericho?  Or that Gideon was scared to lead God's people to war?  Even Jesus went to the cross saying, "God would you mind taking this away from me?"  In the end God used each of them for greater purposes.  In the end though they were afraid, they still followed God's leading.

Her point was that being afraid of what you know God is calling you to is normal.  God does big work through our seemingly small part in His story.  The focus is on God and the work He is doing.  If I have everything together in a perfect little package, what room do I leave for Him to get the glory?  Doesn't it then reflect on me and my greatness rather than allowing my brokenness to point to Him and His greatness?

So I am taking her advice.  I'm going to do it afraid and trust the outcome to God.