Nothing could have prepared me for those words. It didn’t seem real. Thoughts ran through my mind instantly as I fell over from the shock of it all.
“Meghan, your dad passed away yesterday.”
What?! How?! I talked to him 2 days ago and he was fine! This isn’t real, it can’t be real. My daddy? MY daddy? Why? How? What am I going to do?
All these questions and more flooded my mind in less than a second. My team and my squad leaders surrounded me, some in prayer, others hugging me and holding onto me as I cried everything out. I somehow made it into a coffee shop to get wifi to call my mom and my brother, Todd. As I listened to them on the other side of the phone call (and the world), I felt like I was only taking in every other word.
“Closest airport?…. Madrid, I think, or maybe Portugal, I don’t know… a flight tomorrow at 11am?… okay… okay… let me think… okay… I’ll call you back.”
As I spoke with my brother on the phone about flight reservations the next day, I could hardly think or respond in a clear sentence. Everything was just jumbled as I was still taking in news that I had not expected to receive at all. But as I sat, and walked, and spent time with my squad mates who were there with me at that time, peace also managed to make its way into my heart. Don’t get me wrong. It still hurt. It still hurts now as I’m typing this out. But I realized amidst all of the chaos in my mind that Jesus had been present with me through this long before I knew what had happened.
But, in order to explain, I have to go backwards a few days.
Two days earlier, I had woken up in a hotel room that my teammate, Brittani, treated our team to in A Coruna, Spain. Our plan was to take a bus to Muxia, spend the night, then walk the next two days to Fisterra, otherwise known as “The End of the World” (which it really was, prior to the discovery of the Americas). But before heading to the bus station, I called my parents using FaceTime. I forgot the time difference, so it was so early that the room they were in was still dark, but they both sounded so happy to see me (even if it was on a screen), and I left that conversation so joyful and overwhelmed by how blessed I am by my mom and dad. And uplifted by our conversation, I was ready to begin my day.
My team and I began our journey. We spent the night on the beach in Muxia, then walked the next day to a beach just a few miles away from Fisterra. That night, Nathan and Hakeem went to pick up our laundry from the last area we were in, while the girls walked over to the beach and worshipped as the sun set. As we sang, I watched the waves in the ocean. I saw the water crash against the shore and against the rocks and I was reminded of how calm the waters were in Normandy, where I had gone the month before in France. However, despite the differences in what the waves looked like, I felt the same peace there on that shore as I did in Normandy.
In that moment, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper to me, “Regardless of what the waves are doing, whether they’re crashing or whether they’re still, I can still bring you peace and be your peace.”
Then, my teammate, Maryah, had a vision of floodwaters and of a woman crying out in panic. She didn’t tell us until afterwards, but Maryah began to feel anxious and asked God if everything was going to be okay. It was in the moment that I looked behind us and saw a RAINBOW randomly in the distance. It wasn’t very big, but it seemed to be in the most random of places, and it was only there for a moment, long enough for us to see it and take a picture, before going away. God reminded us of the faithfulness of his promises that night as we sang out to Him. On the shores of that beach, his presence was so evident, and there was so much peace there. It was on that night that my daddy passed away, and before I even knew of it, God made a point of telling me that He would be my peace, and He would not leave me regardless of the circumstances.
It would be the next day, moments after our arrival in Fisterra, that I would hear the news.
I sat there processing, surrounded by friends, as my team made dinner, set up travel plans, and did everything to get me to Madrid by the next morning. Instead of remaining in Fisterra as they had planned, all six of my teammates and I got on the last bus out of the city to Santiago. Once there, Sam and Nathan were able to rent a car within minutes of the car rental place closing. We then, all seven of us and our large backpacks, piled into a five-person VW for the five-hour drive to Madrid. Even with all of the last minute planning and praying, God was able to get me from Fisterra to Madrid with more than enough time to make my flight.
At the time of my writing this blog, it has been two weeks since that night. And every day since I found out about my dad, I have replayed his last words to me in my head. Remember that FaceTime conversation I had? The one that I left so joyfully? Well, the reason why I was calling my parents was because they had texted me that my September deadline for fundraising would be met. I called them so early in the morning because I needed an explanation before going without wifi for the next two days.
My mom and dad just laughed at me. My dad said, “sweetie, we’re going to take care of the money needed for this next deadline. Don’t worry! Just keep doing the Lord’s work! We love you!”
“Don’t worry! Just keep doing the Lord’s work! We love you!”
In his last words to me, my dad told me to keep doing the Lord’s work. Now, that does not only look like the World Race. His work involves sharing God’s love and gospel with those around you regardless of where you are. But as I got on the plane to go home, I knew that I wasn’t finished with this race. I still feel it now. I miss my daddy terribly. I may be partial, but he was the greatest daddy ever, as imperfect as he was. But I know where my daddy is. He is at Jesus’ right hand. He is rejoicing in the presence of his Savior.
But there are people in this world that don’t have that hope. There are people around the world that don’t even know where to find that hope. And God is inviting us to share this great hope with others. He invites us into the greatest love story ever told, about a Heavenly Father, relentlessly pursuing after his children all around the world.
I miss my daddy so much, and I will always miss him until the day we meet again, but throughout these past two weeks, my Heavenly Daddy has been my greatest comfort and joy. He keeps me going. He has been my strength and will be my strength. And He is still calling out into the nations. So this week, I head back on the race to meet up with my team in Morocco and to partner with God in all that He is doing there.
My daddy was so proud of me and happy that I was going on the Race, and I’m so thankful to have had a father who loved me and loved the Lord as much as He did. He taught me so much with his life and with his words. Even in his last words to me, he encourages me to follow God wherever he leads. So I will take his words and everything that he has taught me in these last 25 years, and I will carry them with me as I move forward. It may be difficult at times. The hurt won’t go away once I get back on that plane. But as I carry my earthly father’s teachings with me, my heavenly Father carries me upon his shoulders, bearing the weight that I can’t possibly handle by myself. He is with me, and He is faithful regardless of what the waves are doing in my life.
I want to take time and thank every single person who has reached out to my family and I. If I were to list out all of the names, that would be another blog post altogether. Please know that I appreciate your words, kindness, generosity, and prayers. I also want to thank each person who donated towards my trip at my family’s request. I have been absolutely blown away by each of you. My daddy told me that my next deadline would be taken care of, and it has been thanks to your giving hearts. I promise that I will reach out to individuals soon (not only those who donated), but for now, please accept this blog as my thanks.
