Ordinary moments, or cherished memories?

Last night as I lay in bed, about to drift off into dreamland, I was overcome with emotion as I realized that it had been exactly 30 years since I last spoke to my mom. That last day as I hugged and kissed her, I was only thinking about how much fun I was going to have at the sleepover she’d arranged for me. I had no idea how that seemingly ordinary day would become so significant. Lying there, I tried to remember the sound of her voice, the beauty of her face, the light in her eyes when she smiled…I had so little time with her, and those memories seem distant and foggy. I wish I had known to cherish those moments of normalcy; I wish my 5-year-old self could have retained every hug, every laugh, every tear, every smile, every second of the good times. Instead, the moments most deeply engraved in my memory are the unpleasant ones.

Today, as I feel the familiar ache that marks this anniversary each year, I realize that I must take the time to cherish the ordinary moments I've had this week.

I cherish Morgan’s smile and the way we can talk about anything at all.
I cherish the way baby Cade smiles at me with his whole face when I talk to him and snuggles up with me when he’s sleepy.
I cherish Lindsay’s genuine, exuberant spirit and wonderful hugs.
I cherish my husband’s willingness to love me with acts of service every day.
I cherish Aaron’s need for physical affection and his devotion to me.
I cherish Heather’s friendship and honesty and the bond we have.
I cherish KayLynn’s uniqueness and the way she makes me think about everything in a completely different way.
I cherish the days I spend with Jenn, laughing, working, and talking. Not everyone gets to be with their sister almost every day as an adult, and I am so blessed.
I cherish my church. My church is my family, my strength, my joy.
I cherish my parents-by-choice and the joy I see in their faces when we visit, even if we can't stay long.
I cherish Phineas & Ferb. Sure, they're cartoon characters, but because of them, I get to hear my family laugh. A lot.

You never know which seemingly ordinary moments will become memories that you never want to lose. I'd love to hear what moments you need to be intentional about cherishing this week. LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered— how fleeting my life is. Psalm 39:4

Happy Father's Day - to my Papa Cecil Shatswell

Dearest Papa,

I miss you so much. This week, I held my sobbing son as he lost his Papa, and I thought of how it felt the day I lost you. While I did my best to comfort him and dry his tears, my heart ached because I know that nothing I do or say can ever completely take away his pain. Even now, almost 20 years after losing you, there are days when I miss you so much it hurts. I will never forget how angry I was that no one called 911 while you were fumbling for the hospital phone number and holding your arm, or how my heart felt like it was ripping in two when you fell from my grasp. The moment you stopped leaning on me and fell to the floor, I knew you were gone. As I watched the paramedics work on you, tubes and equipment everywhere, I felt hollow, empty, and lost because I knew there was no hope. I don't know how I knew when your spirit left your body, but I did. Losing you made me so numb inside - I had come to your house that weekend expecting to lose Grandma, but never in my worst nightmares had I ever imagined burying you both at the same time. My world changed forever when I felt your cold, lifeless hand in that casket, when I woke up from sleep knowing that Grandma was gone too, when I saw you both in your caskets at the front of the church, when I stood in the bitter cold and the funeral director gave me your & grandma's eyeglasses...I was 16, but inside I wanted my life to end with yours.

If I hadn't loved you so much, it might not have been such a hard week for me. I was always your little girl! I remember how you used to let me "help" you fix lawn mowers and follow you around everywhere. Your favorite candy bar was Butterfinger, so mine was too. You doted on me, and I doted right back. The day my mom died, you were the one who caught me and held me when I had run and screamed until I could run and scream no more. You wrapped me in your strong arms and held me as I fought against you with all the strength my angry, confused 5-year-old body could muster. You were my Papa, and you loved me always and forever, unconditionally.

Did you know I still instinctively reach for peppermints when my stomach is upset? You taught me that. When Grandma was in the nursing home and my stomach was churning, you gave me Starlight Mints and told me that peppermint is one of the best remedies for an upset stomach. You were right! You taught me to love Frito chili pie (still one of my favorites), strawberry pop (Fanta's not as good as Welch's), peanut butter and syrup, Little Debbies, and eggs over easy.  Most of the things I know about my childhood come from stories you told me - how I amazed you by reading the newspaper when I was four, how I got jealous when the other grandkids sat on your lap instead of me, how I thought the LTD was an automobile but the Vega wasn't...you remembered all those stories and more, and you never complained about telling them to me over and over. I will always treasure all the nights we sat up late playing dominoes when I was a teenager. We didn't even have to talk; we were totally comfortable just being together. You were my Papa, and you loved me, and I loved you, and that was all we needed.

Thank you, Papa Cecil Shatswell, for being my Papa. Thank you for taking the time to make memories with me and be the man I needed you to be in my life. I will miss you forever and always, until we meet again in heaven. I wish God had given me more time with you, but I am so thankful for the time we had. I love you!

Lots of love and prayers,
Meredith Lee

Happy Father's Day - to my Dad-by-choice

Uncle Shorty/Dad,

I never imagined when I came to live with you as a frightened, hurt, 8-year-old child hiding in my shell that you would come to be the man I now admire as my dad. I still remember the first time you ever spanked me, and how I screamed bloody murder before you even touched me. I still hate frozen peas, by the way. That day, I thought that discipline was abuse, that punishment was always motivated by anger and revenge and a desire to inflict pain, and I was frightened of what that would look like in your home. What you showed me instead changed me forever. You taught me that abuse and discipline are NOT the same thing. You showed me through your actions that true discipline is necessary and is motivated by love and a desire to see your children grow in wisdom and walk the path that God has for them. It took me a long time to learn that, and I’m so thankful that you have loved me and been patient enough to still want me even through my rebellions.

You’ve done so much for me over the years! You worked to provide for my needs when my biological dad chose not to support me financially, even though it meant giving up your plans of building a dream home and retiring comfortably. You opened your home to me again and again, when I made questionable choices and needed a roof over my head. You love my children as your own grandchildren. You got up in the middle of the night to make sure the girls and I made it safely to your house when we were in danger, and never complained that you were the person I called for help. You stand by me and love me when I fail and when I succeed. You always speak the word of God over me and my family. The difference you have made in my life can’t be measured, and I will forever be overwhelmed that you chose to be my Dad through everything.

When I was young, I didn’t really understand the significance of you being a deacon in the church. As an adult, though, I am so honored to say that you are. I got to explain to Morgan what that means, and together we read 1 Timothy 3:8-13: Deacons, likewise, are to be men worthy of respect, sincere, not indulging in much wine, and not pursuing dishonest gain. They must keep hold of the deep truths of the faith with a clear conscience. They must first be tested; and then if there is nothing against them, let them serve as deacons. In the same way, their wives are to be women worthy of respect, not malicious talkers but temperate and trustworthy in everything. A deacon must be the husband of but one wife and must manage his children and his household well. Those who have served well gain an excellent standing and great assurance in their faith in Christ Jesus.

When we finished reading, Morgan immediately said, “Yes. That’s my Papa,” and my heart overflowed with love. You didn’t have to be my dad, or their Papa, or a Godly husband to Aunt Virginia, or a deacon. You chose to be all of those things and more, and for that I love you more than words can say.

Happy Father’s Day!

Meredith

One little phone call

Yesterday, one phone message changed everything about my day...so I prayed for guidance. God gave me 2 Corinthians 2:7-8 ~ Now, however, it is time to forgive and comfort him. Otherwise he may be overcome by discouragement. So I urge you now to reaffirm your love for him.

Well, that wasn't ambiguous, at all! It was clear that I had to return that phone call and show forgiveness, love, and comfort. So I kept praying and even argued with God, finally resolving not to let my fear of the pain it would cause keep me from doing what God very clearly told me to do. At the end of the workday, I logged off my computer, closed everything down, prayed some more, and then picked up my cell phone to make the call, my hands shaking and my voice wavering.

"Is this Meredith?"
"Yes, it's me. I was just returning your call." (man, that sounded fake and stupid!)
"Well, it's your daddy. (I called you, remember?! And I hate that you're using that word. I haven't called you that since high school.) I just wanted to call and check in. I lost your number, so that's why I haven't called in a while (you mean my number has been unattainable to you for over 5 years!?!). I called Virginia and got your number so I just wanted to say hello and tell you I haven't forgotten you and I still think about you every day."
(How do I respond to that?!?)

I responded without much emotion, apologized for missing his call earlier in the day, and explained that I had been working.  I asked how he was feeling, knowing that his health has not been good, and he told me how his head always hurts and he can't do anything at all now except sit around the house. He told me he was going to come see me when he came to Stillwater last time, but he just got too tired and his head started hurting. He told me how he came to Stillwater to bring my cousin two beds and some tables, and after driving, unloading those for her, and checking out some things for my uncle, he was just too tired to add seeing me into his day. So he went home, hoping to miss Tulsa rush hour. I agreed that Tulsa rush hour is hectic.  Then the conversation came to an uncomfortable lull, so I thought I would ask about his grandkids, since I know how much he loves them.

"So, I heard that you have some beautiful new grandkids!"
"Yeah, I have, what, two or three at your house? And four adopted ones." (Two or three at my house? Seriously? You don't even know how many kids I have, and yet you have the nerve to say they're your grandkids!?!? They are NOT yours! And I can't believe you don't even know how many kids I have!) "Meredith? How many kids do you have? Is it two, or three?"
"I have three."

He went on to tell me a sweet story about one of my sister's kids, and I laughed and told him how beautiful her kids are while inside my heart was breaking.  He asked about my kids, and I told him a couple of things before he cut me off to start talking about someone named Uncle David. I know he thought I should know who that is, but I don't. It must be his wife's family, and somehow he has forgotten that I have been shut out of his life since I was 7, so naturally I have NO idea who this guy is. But I listened as he talked about Uncle David's health, and how they are looking into putting him into a nursing home, and how they might take him into their own home instead. I felt the bile rising in my throat as he commented that David has a son who lives less than 30 minutes away and who should be taking care of David, but doesn't even talk to his dad. The judgement I heard in my own dad's voice made me sick and angry. The very man who abandoned his own innocent young child is judging another man for abandoning his sick adult father. I wanted to puke.

He wrapped up the conversation with another apology for losing my number and for not calling me sooner. He said something about how he has to check in on me every once in a while, and how he would like to call me more often, if that's OK with me. He told me he loved me.

So, because God was crystal clear with me, I was obedient. I told him he could call me anytime, and I told him I love him. Because I do, though the love is very different now than it was when I was young. Now, I love him with the love that overflows in me from Christ, not with a love of my own. I let that love flow, and I forgave him, again. And if he calls me more, I will continue to love and forgive, because he is my earthly father and that is what God tells me to do. No matter how much it hurts.

After we hung up, I continued my evening, with tears welling up uncontrollably all night. I cried as I took the banking for work, cried in the parking lot until the rising nausea overpowered me and I vomited. I cried as I sat at dinner with my husband. And then, I retreated to my favorite place of refuge, laid down on the floor with music blaring and lights out, and poured my heart and hurt out to my true Father. My Abba, the one who will never leave me and loves me always. I don't know if Fred will call again, or when, but I do know that my Father will be with me either way. And today He has given me Romans 8:39 ~ neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.