Today, June 15th, is Father’s Day.
It also marks the second Father’s Day I have been without an earthly father.
Even as I begin to write this I can feel the burning sensation in the back of my throat and tears threatening to pour as I recall the events of that day.
Last year on Thursday, May 30th, at 4:30pm I received a phone call that my father had suffered a heart attack and was at the local hospital. My world froze.
I had been working at my internship with the local juvenile correctional facility when I was radioed to control (someone had been urgently trying to reach me). When I finally managed to figure out who had called and got a hold of them the news of my father’s situation hit me like a sledge hammer and I nearly collapsed. I was frantic, pacing back in forth. My supervisor ended up driving me to the hospital since it was obvious that I could not emotionally or physically get myself there.
When we pulled into the ER parking lot I rushed through the doors and met my mother in the hallway. Immediately I fell into her arms. My siblings were there (my future sister-in-law and her family as well). My pastor and his wife were there. I couldn’t believe all of this was happening. I had just spoken with my dad earlier that day and all had seemed fine and dandy.
Sitting in the prayer room of the hospital, surrounded by family and close friends, my mother made a comment about God and the angels. I got up and removed myself from the room. I didn’t want to hear about my dad potentially dying. In my mind he was fine (I hadn’t actually seen him yet). They had mentioned he was hooked up to a machine still, but I figured that just meant heart monitors and the lot.
I went to the nearest bathroom and stood by the sink staring into the mirror and praying that my dad would be okay. It wasn’t until my mother found me and said that we have to accept that he’s gone did reality hit like a sack full of 500 ton bricks. No one had wanted to tell me over the phone and so I found myself in this bubble of denial until my mother came along and popped it. My father was dead.
This time I literally collapsed. Right there on the bathroom floor and sobbed.
While I may not have been thrilled with now having to continue on without my dad, I knew that God had a purpose and a reason for everything.
He had prepared me for that day.
My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 14. Instead of turning to God I lashed out and cursed Him. I couldn’t believe such a loving God would do this to such a godly woman. I was furious. She underwent surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. Ten years later and she is still cancer free.
Both my grandpa’s died within ten days of each other my freshman year of college. I was angry that God had taken them from my life. He had already taken all my grandma’s years earlier. Couldn’t he at least leave me one grandparent?
I don’t tell these stories for pity. I tell them because in that moment, it was the first time in my life that I had run towards God rather than away from Him. It was the first time I ever truly trusted in God.
I would encourage you (yes you!) to acknowledge God during your trials and sufferings. Praise Him for them. He never will give you more than you can handle. His steadfast love and grace are beyond comprehension and more than sufficient for you. Trust in HIM and he will provide and take care of you.
And it’s with that same trust that I am relying on Him for this mission. He will provide. He will watch over me. HE HAS A PLAN.
Psalm 91:1-4
“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High with find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him. For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease. He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.”
So while I may not have an earthly father to celebrate on this day I am eternally grateful for the one in heaven who is watching over me. Have a blessed day.
