I don’t want to write this blog. I’m not even sure what I am going to write about. I don’t want to pretend this day isn’t significant, but at the same time I don’t know what I’m supposed to do today or even how I’m supposed to feel. But, here it goes.
This day last year, was the hardest, saddest, emptiest, and most painful days I’ve ever faced. March 24th, last year, I had to say goodbye to the most important man in my life, my daddy.
As I sit here in Bolivia, approaching the end of month 3 on The World Race, I am left feeling a mixture of emotions. Here are just a few.
Sadness. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss my dad. I think about him daily. Everything from pictures, songs, jokes, places, to random memories will spark an intense sadness. I’m sure someone more poetic than I could explain the kind of sadness I feel. It’s something that’s surpasses an emotional feeling and morphs into a physical pain; a pain where my heart literally feels as if its breaking and I could stop breathing at any second. It is during these moments of intense grief that I realize the emptiness I carry around from with his absence. Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever stop having these kind of reactions, in a weird way I hope I don’t. It is amidst those moments that I am keenly aware that my love for my dad hasn’t simply remained the same, but continues to grow and develop as I unpeel the complexity of his absence.
Guilt. Occasionally the thought creeps in that I shouldn’t be having fun and that my laughter is disrespectful to my current position. Thankfully, the Lord’s voice is stronger than the enemy’s and He reminds me that, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”
Anxiety. Grieving on the race isn’t a walk in the park. But, neither is anything on the race for that matter. There have been moments where I thought I would explode if I wasn’t able to get alone and cry my eyes out like I needed to. There have been times when I was terrified that my team would peg me as weak because I break down in the middle of the kitchen when I realized it’s his birthday. I have spent many nights using my sleeping mask to cover the fact that I’m crying myself to sleep. Thank God for a team that has loved me through my anxiety, my breakdowns, and my triumphs.
Thankful. The Race has provided a myriad of experiences thus far. I’ve served other ministries, immersed myself in foreign cultures, and have had many conversations about other’s “family experience.” More times than not, when I reflect on my own reality, I am thankful. My dad loved the Lord, he loved my family, and he loved his flock.
I got to see a dad who served the Lord and who sought after Him. I watched him study the Word, I knew he was going to pray when he’d go for a drive in his truck late at night, and I always heard him worshiping throughout the day. (I miss hearing him sing the most!) I saw a dad whose eyes lit up when I entered a room. I never once doubted that he fiercely loved my brother and me. He was at every sports game, every performance, and every important event. In my best memories growing up, he was there. He was also always present during my hardest memories. He fought for me at times when I wasn’t able to fight for myself. I’m thankful that I saw a dad who loved my mom. I know what a Godly marriage looks like because I saw it in my parents my entire life. He respected her, cherished her, and supported her no matter what. Something that has stood out to me more, while on the race, is how thankful I am to have seen my dad loving those God called him to love. I am thankful I got to see him support the kids he coached at school, to experience the anointing he had while leading worship, to be there during the hours after hour he spent shepherding the people he pastored, and my most cherished moments were ministering alongside of him in Nicaragua. I wouldn’t trade those days for anything.
Blessed. I would be lying if I said that hitting the year mark means I’m done grieving. I can’t imagine a time when I won’t miss my dad or feel a range of emotions when I think about him not being here. But, I am at a point that when I reflect on the 25 years I got to spend with him, I can feel blessed. I can see that my experiences with my earthly father was about as close to relationship with my Heavenly father that one can experience on earth. I still don’t understand God’s purpose for taking him so soon; I don’t know if I ever will. But, if I were God I’d take him too. I couldn’t help but smile the other day when the song, “I Can Only Imagine” came on, because I thought, dad doesn’t have to imagine, he’s there right now (Probably working up plans to have the basketball courts moved next to the ocean because there is a better breeze and rearranging the angel;s worship stage to get a better acoustic sound). I feel honored that God chose me to call him daddy.
Hopeful. Coming onto the race, I wasn’t really expecting God to do much in me because I couldn’t see beyond my grief. I didn’t even trust that He wanted good things for me. But, as I experience more of Him and I spend time listening to His words, I’m starting to move in a forward motion. I can see that He does have plans and that I am called to more than my grief. I don’t know what that looks like or even how to get to where he wants me, but I feel hopeful that I’m in the right place and doing what He has called me to do.
I love you Daddy!
