Dear Dad,
So, we’re at 9 months. It feels like this year is just flying by. I mean, it really does. It had to have just been yesterday that I was driving across the country, listening to The Wind in the Willows on tape for the 10th time, because I couldn’t find a good radio station. Nine months. Nine months since we were beyond exhausted, but were afraid to fall asleep, thinking you could go at any second. Nine months since we held your hand as you took your last breath. Nine months since we walked away from the hospital feeling numb at the reality of what just happened before our eyes. Nine months since goodbye.
It really is crazy. Nine months. I still think about the days leading up to “goodbye.” I do. I think about how we had absolutely no idea of what was happening to you until the day before. I think back to my last evening with you–how you were pretty sedated, but you’d still say things to me every once in a while. Not anything important. Just something about the tv show or something about how uncomfortable you were.
Nine months. Lots has happened in nine months. I told you a lot about it last time. But, it’s been about three months since then, and even more has happened.
Dad, I’m over halfway funded for the Race! The Lord is doing some awesome things to provide. Because, I feel like I’m just not doing very much at all, but the money is still coming in. He is proving Himself to be so faithful to keep giving to His mission. I remember how excited you were when I went to Samoa about how He was so faithful to give abundantly beyond all that I needed. It’s happening again. He’s providing again in abundance. And I am so thankful to watch Him provide what I need.
We’re remodeling the kitchen! All the plans that you and Mom made for the kitchen are actually becoming a reality! And it looks so good! The space is so open. Mom is getting everything she always wanted in her kitchen. And she’s getting the space to entertain people. The house you always wished you could provide for her is coming together. I’m sad that you’re not here to see it, because you would have loved it. You would have loved the range top. You would have loved the double oven. You would have loved the pantry Mom is getting put in.
There’s laughter and joy in the house again. Not that it ceased for a long time. But we’re really learning how to keep walking and moving forward. It’s hard saying that sometimes, you know. Saying that we’re moving forward. It makes me feel like I’m saying to people that I’m forgetting about you or that I don’t care anymore. But that’s not true at all. I know you wanted us to keep living, to keep doing. The thing is, in moving forward, it’s hard. It’s hard to do that, knowing that you’re not a part of my everyday life anymore. It’s hard not being able to share things with you anymore. Because I do miss you. Every. Single. Day. But the Lord gives me grace to keep going. He is sufficient. He is my stronghold, my rock.
So. It’s been nine months. But this day also happens to be Easter.
This is one of my favorite days of the year. And you knew this all too well.
I remember many Easters where we would sit and talk about Christ and His resurrection.
We would reflect about the importance of this day. We would reflect about how we need not only Christ’s death, but we are in desperate need of His resurrection. We would talk about the excitement found in the truth that we, too, will be resurrected one day. We will be brought forth from this earth and be given glorified bodies and live with Christ–to enjoy Him and know Him.
This Resurrection Sunday is no different. I’ve been reflecting on Christ–His life, death, and resurrection. I’ve been rejoicing in the fact that I serve a risen Savior. And I’ve been looking forward with great hope to the one day when we will be reunited at the Celebration Feast of the Lamb.
Dad, I don’t just want to wait for the resurrection. I want to live in the resurrection. I want to be living now in the coming Kingdom. Because if I am living in such a way, then that means that I am proclaiming to this dark world Christ’s reign. I am saying and living like I am under His Lordship. And I am living in the power of the Holy Spirit. I long to let Christ reign in my life and heart.
I’m going to miss you a lot today. I’m going to miss hearing your voice proclaim through song Christ’s victory. I’m going to miss all your goofy faces as we stuff Easter eggs and hide them for the youngers. I’m going to miss holding your hand as we pray over the family meal. I’m just going to miss you.
Anyway. God is good. And He gives good gifts. The death and resurrection of Christ are perfect examples of His goodness and grace. Christ’s death was hard. It was brutal. It hurt. But it also led to the resurrection. It led to our salvation. It paved a path for us to have relationship with God. So even in the hardness of Christ’s death, it was still good. It accomplished the will of God. So it was good.
So as we keep on learning to live, love, and trust, we can confidently say that God is good. He has been near to us through this time in our lives. And He keeps teaching us to love Him and follow after Him.
God is good.
God is faithful.
I love you and miss you more than words could ever express.
