Me and my dad at my wedding in 2005.
It's hard to believe that I've not seen this man in nearly 7 years. Just saying that makes a lump rise up in my throat. It's been seven years since I got to look into my father's eyes, or hold his hand, or see that look he would get when he's just told a joke that was a little off-color.
This isn't the anniversary of his passing--or his birthday. I'm writing about this today because I have at least two separate thoughts going on in my head that are very connected to this dear man. I will write about one of them tonight.
Thought #1: I'm Forgiven and Loved
Many times I have heard that our view of our Heavenly Father mimics that of our earthly father. Now, this is where you may believe that I am going to pontificate about how wonderful my father was and what a great man he was. But no. This is where I say that my dad and I had a very tumultuous relationship for most of my life. It was rocky and rough. I remember looking at my mother one day and saying, "Well, I sure hope Dad dies before you, because I will NEVER take care of this man when you're gone." Ouch!
In 2000 my father was diagnosed with a very rare thyroid cancer and was not expected to live long. 6 days, 6 weeks...maybe 6 months? Time was short. And I had A LOT to say.
Here's how our exchange went (in extreme summary). "Daddy, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I forgive you. I love you." To which he replied, "Daughter, you're forgiven. I'm sorry, too. Please forgive me. I love you!"
Through his terrible treatments, I helped to care for my dad. I held his hand, prayed with him, and even spent some nights on the recliner next to him--willing to give up my sleep to help him in the late night hours. We grew much closer and, thankfully, I had five more years of a wonderful relationship with him. They were a great five years.
The days preceding my dad's death were so special. The best moment I think I may have had with my dad--EVER--was about two days before he passed away. My sister Beth, my mom and I took Dad in a wheelchair out into the gazebo in the courtyard of Homestead Village. He had no voice left but a whisper. But we sang hymns and praise songs together and read from God's word. It was a picture of Heaven on earth. His smile was brighter than the sun that day. And, when the time was over, we prayed with him. "May I pray for you?" he asked us in a hushed voice. May he pray for us? Wasn't he the one facing death's door? This man then uttered prayers to God that could not be understood by our ears. But he knew every word he prayed. That was the longest prayer of my life. But it was the sweetest.
Watching my dad pass from this world to the next was the most profound experience of my life...well...second only, perhaps, to the birth of my children.
My relationship with God has modeled a similar fashion. It's been rocky in the past. There have been good times, but there have been many moments of mistrust and unbelief on my part. I didn't believe my Heavenly Father had good things for me. For everyone else? Yes. For me? No. I fought to do more, to be more, to gain his affections--on my terms. My weight loss was a HUGE part of this relationship struggle. And things got pretty bad.
And then I realized how broken I was and how wrong I was about my thinking toward God. And the exchange went something like this. "Father, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you." To which he replied, "Daughter, I will never leave you. Forgiven. I love you." And this time I believed those words. I believed in the price Christ paid for me on the cross...particularly as it pertained to my cursing God for my weight struggle.
Enter: Take Shape for Life. It isn't my salvation, but has been my hope. It feels like a giant hug from my Father. This time I am having with God feels more like those last five years I spent with my dad. There's harmony and peace. There's laughter and a true sense of love. And I don't have just five more years of this. I have all of eternity!!!
Thanks for the hug, Lord! Thanks for the blessings your pouring out on my life right now. The changes that are occurring in my heart are far greater than the changes that are happening on the outside. Thank you for never giving up on me when I gave up on you and on myself.
Oh...and I happen to think...my dad would be super proud of me right now.
I probably should allow myself to settle into this post a little more, but if I did, I'd get really weepy. You nailed a lot of thoughts I've had, not only about my dad (with whom I was close, but lost him when he was too young) but also with God. I couldn't figure out why it took him SO long to help me resolve this area in my life. That was hard. Really hard. A lot of self-imposed guilt was involved.
ReplyDeleteI think I understand a little bit about the timing now. Frankly, but I really don't have to understand because I trust Him. The sweetness of His rescue is, however, too wonderful for words.
I only wish my Dad could have seen this. Now that TSFL is starting to reach out to our extended family too, I watch their success, think of my daddy, and smile.