I wish I could say that this blog was like most blogs, with a misleadingly eye-catching title and that after reading it your hope will be restored because the ending will be far better than your expectations.
I can’t.
Don’t try to scroll to the bottom for a new-found happy ending. It won’t happen.
The truth is, my father did die during my World Race.
Many of you are like me, you have someone close to you who has been given a terminal illness, maybe you are experiencing something fatal yourself, or maybe this season of your life is filled with painful confusion and your hopelessness feels like a death sentence.
So don’t worry, this is not a ‘stay positive’ or a ‘happily-ever-after blog.’
But what I am here to testify to is this:
**That God draws extremely and unexplainably close to the brokenhearted (Ps. 34:18).
**That death doesn’t get to eternally sting (1 Cor. 15:55).
**For believers, seasons of sadness and mourning don’t have to devastate and consume
you into unyielding depression.
**And that anything the enemy tries to throw at you can never compare to the sweetness
of the glory of God.
From experience, I learned to embrace the choices that I did have in a time when it seemed as though everything was happening beyond anything I could control. While on the race, God kept me from sleeping one night, all night long, and very clearly allowed me to know that it was time to return home. While home, as I walked alone into my Dad’s hospice room one night and he began loudly gasping for air, I literally felt the very presence of death in the room, and knew that there was nothing I could do to stop it. At that point, my Fight-or-Flight instincts chose Flight and my body started to physically faint. For those of you that know me, I have a history of passing out. Instead, I realized that I did have a choice and I was going to chose to Fight. I quickly chugged a can of ginger-ale that I happened to have near by and fought myself out of fainting (Jer. 31:25). Despite that the hospice employee’s thought my Dad wasn’t going to leave us yet, I choose to listen to this feeling inside of me, The Holy Spirit, that convinced me my Dad’s time was near. I then notified my family and they were able to arrange a visit sooner than planned. Two days later, after our entire family spent the whole day by my Dad’s side, He passed away.
I learned to pay attention to the ways in which God chose to reveal Himself and His power to me. He allowed me to know in advance that my father would be taken soon so that not only I could begin to prepare myself, but I could also experience the extreme faithfulness of His Spirit. God comforted me through friends like Kayla who is all the way on the other side of the world and still found time to share these extremely supportive words, “Take some time away from all of the logistics ahead so that you can be with your heavenly father as you confront everything that is happening. It is okay to cry. It is okay to be angry. It is okay to be frustrated. It is okay to want silence. Seek your time, Samie, and know that God wants to comfort you as much as you want his comfort.” I chose to pay attention and hang on to comments like that and extend grace instead of anger towards those who use clichés like, “I know losing a Daddy can never be easy.”
I never expected to plan my Father’s funeral before he was ever able to walk me down the aisle. I could never have anticipated all the logistics that goes into funerals, insurance, and Will-less probate processes. And at the same time, I could have never anticipated how God continues to reveal His blessings to me by providing supportive friends and family who have stepped up and helped me more than I ever could have asked for. I am extremely grateful to everyone who gave their support by praying, sending cards, flowers and encouraging thoughts, attending the memorial service, helping with food, and for those who helped me keep smiling. I couldn’t have survived last month without you. Thank you allowing God to use each one of you to help turn the nightmare of last month into a time that I can look back on with sweet memories. Included in the Eulogy I wrote for the service, and the Messianic Rabbi read, was the following:
“…After his graduation from Waycross-Ware Tech in 1975, and relocation to Macon, Georgia, J.D. became a well-established American Saddlebred horse trainer along with his partner, the late Asa Marshall IV, of Hudson & Marshall, Inc. The two of them were in this business for over twenty years. They were best friends, and J.D. named his first-born daughter, Samantha after Asa’s son, Sam. Sometimes called Samie, she was affectionately known to J.D. as ‘Sam.’ He named his youngest daughter, Hannah, after his and Asa’s prized possession, a World Champion road-horse, named Hustlin’ Hannah….
In July 2013, J.D. was diagnosed with an advanced, Stage 3, malignant brain tumor. From then on Hannah, and his dog and best buddy Scooter, were always by his side. After an honorable fight against cancer, J.D. passed away on Sunday, January 19, 2014 at the age of 60 just after all of his family members said their goodbyes.
Not a moment of his pain was unnoticed. In the words of author and Pastor John Piper, “Not only is all your affliction momentary, not only is all your affliction light in comparison to eternity and the glory there, but all of it is totally meaningful. Every millisecond of your pain, from the fallen nature or fallen man, every millisecond of your misery in the path of obedience is producing a peculiar glory you will get because of that”. 2 Corinthians 4:18 encourages us to, ‘fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal’.”
Thanks to my friend Ben, I will always have this song that my sister and I changed some of the words for Dad:
But I still miss you
All the times we spent together
To hear you talk about the weather
I always prayed you’d get well soon
I wish my prayers came true
I know Jesus has the answer
And He’s way bigger than the cancer in you
But I still miss you
And lastly, like I said in my previous blog, I have had a crazy amount of peace through all of this, because I believe that God is working this out for my good and for His glory. The enemy hasn’t been able to touch my joy that I express while strumming my guitar alone in my room or while sitting by friends on a church pew. When I begin to ask, “God, what are you doing? How can I best join you in what you are doing by having me walk through, or wade in, this seemingly miserable season?” Oddly enough, I then actually consider it, and awkwardly embrace pure joy during this time. Awkwardly, because when you embrace joy in a season like sadness it feels weird, like you shouldn’t actually be able to access joy, or that you must be being disrespectful for not letting the sadness overtake you and drown you into depression. But believe it or not, I am able to consider and embrace the joy because I cling to the promise that this season ends and a season of dancing and laughter is just around the corner. And by doing that, the enemy doesn’t get to win, and even through sadness, I get joy! (Jer. 31:13).
I am unsure how my World Race ends, or if it is in fact, already over.
But I am absolutely sure that as we run the race with perseverance (Heb. 12:1-2), the only death that we should allow to consume us is the death to self we chose to die to everyday as we nail our flesh next to Christ’s and leave our sins in the shadow of the cross.
