I'm your dad, and you're my daughter

    I'll never forget the day "Uncle Shorty" finally became "Dad" to me. I put it off for years, keeping that part of my heart closed off as deeply as I could. It was Father's Day, several years ago, and instead of the usual "Papa" cards from the kids, I felt a strong desire to also get him a "Dad" card from me. I don't remember what it said, but it was perfect. When he read it, and I finally called him Dad, the look on his face told me I had done the right thing. That smile is forever seared into my heart! Words on a piece of folded, decorated cardstock made him smile at me with love, acceptance, pride, and joy in his eyes, and during the hug we shared, he told me, "I'm your dad, and you're my daughter. You always have been, ever since we got you. I'm real proud of you. I love you, daughter."
     After that day, he never missed an opportunity to call me his daughter, and every time he said it, he got that same proud, loving look on his face. Let me tell you, nothing broke those walls around my heart down faster than that face. He was my dad, and I was his daughter. Even as his mind was gradually stolen by Alzheimer's, he still called me daughter and gave me that smile. I will be forever grateful that God gave me a lucid goodbye, and that Dad's last words to me were "I love you."
     Now, on Father's Day, I find myself realizing that I don't just miss him. I also miss the men he replaced. I know that I resisted letting him fill their place for a reason, and now I am reminded why I was so stubborn. The ache in my heart is so deep that it takes my breath away - I grieve for Dad, knowing that visiting him tomorrow will mean visiting a grave. I grieve for Papa, the first man to ever show me what consistent, unconditional, fatherly love really is. I grieve for Fred, my bio dad, for the man he used to be and the man he has become. I grieve for all that I have lost and for all that could have been. I grieve, and I remember.
      I remember Fred taking me into the Frito-Lay truck when I was just a toddler, telling me I could choose any treat I wanted from the vast array. His voice was so gentle, his eyes so loving, and I knew how much he loved being my dad then.
     I remember staying up all night playing dominos with Papa, talking about anything and everything, or enjoying a comfortable silence. Those late nights are my favorite memory of my teenage years.
     I remember staying with Mom and Dad when Aaron was a baby, waking up to the sound of Aaron yelling 'hey!' when Dad walked by, and Dad yelling 'hey!' right back before coming to get him for some quality Papa-Aaron time.
     I remember the day Fred told me that his home was no longer my home, when I was 7 years old and completely blindsided by losing my daddy only two years after losing my mommy, unable to comprehend that he'd had to choose between me and his new family. 
     I remember the day Papa died, knowing he was gone the moment he let go of my arm and fell to the floor. I still shiver when I remember the bitter cold wind that chilled me to the bone as we buried Papa and Grandma together, when I was 16 and wondering how life could go on when I believed I had no one left to love me.
     I remember helping mom choose the flowers for Dad's funeral, overwhelmed with gratefulness that I had the privilege of being his daughter and being involved in the final days and moments of his life, but also overwhelmed with guilt at all the years I spent pushing him away.
     Happy Father's Day in heaven, Dad and Papa. Dad - you'll always be my dad, and I'll always be your daughter. Your grandchildren and I miss you more than words can say.  Papa - It's been so long since I lost you, and yet you are still with me in so many ways. My kids know what a great inventor and handyman you were, and how much you loved Little Debbies and strawberry pop. You'll always be a hero in my eyes.
     And, though I know you'll never hear it, Happy Father's Day, Fred. I hope you know that there's always a piece of my heart that belongs to you.

Grief is not just a word

Grief. Oh, that word. It's such a small word! Deceptively small, for such a large emotion. The feelings are never-ending, so shouldn't the word be longer than 5 letters? It's been almost three months since Dad died, and I still feel like I'm on autopilot most of the time. I'm not randomly bursting into tears on a daily basis anymore, so that's a plus. I even feel joy, happiness, and other positive emotions occasionally. Most days I think I seem pretty normal to everyone around me. All of these are definitely steps in the right direction, I think.
Yes, all those are good things, but I'm still not OK. I want to be. Oh, how I desperately want to be. This SUCKS. I always thought it was so odd that I literally don't remember the 6 months after my grandparents died, but now I understand it completely. If it was anything like this, it's no wonder I can't remember. I can't even keep track of what day it is, much less create memories that will still be there years from now. Some days, I think I'm back to myself again. I work, I enjoy life, I smile and laugh, I praise my Creator, I love, I pray, I sleep. Other days, I wonder when this shadow will ever lift. It's not that I can't function, it's more like I just don't want to. I'm tired, all the time. I rarely want to fix my hair, or put on my makeup, or pay attention to what I'm wearing. I've only been to church sporadically since he got so sick. That alone is SO hard! I love my church. I love being at the church with my church - holding babies, worshiping, laughing, talking, hugging....I love it all. My friends want me to come back. My husband wants me to come back. My kids, especially my oldest, want me to come back and don't understand why I don't. Heck, I don't even understand it, really. All I know is that I'm not ready. I've tried - I've gone several times, with most of those times ending in tears. So I stay home (thank you, Lord, for Church Online!). I know that one day I will be ready, I will go back. I know that I should be there. I know how important my church is and how much my spiritual life is bolstered by communion with other believers. I know that the longer I shut myself off, the less support and help I will receive from those who love me. I know how much I need that support and love. And yet, I'm just not ready. I hope and pray that my friends will not forget me, that they will realize how much I still love and need them, but I also know that their life is still going on full speed ahead. I know that friendship is a two-way street. I know that my withdrawal doesn't help friendships. So I wait. One day, this too will pass. Because I know that God is ENOUGH for me, I hold on, keep praying, keep worshiping, keep crying out to him, and I wait for the fog to dissipate.
And I know, with all my heart, that it will dissipate. There is life after grief. I know, because I've lived it. And one day, I will live it again. In the meantime, please be patient with me. I'm doing the very best that I can.

Just One Word

Last January, I wrote a blog post about my 'one word' for 2013. If you haven't seen it, check it out here:Yep, I'm crazy.... When I look back on that post and realize just how much our lives have changed since then, I realize that God was so very faithful in showing me just how much "more" he is able to do, even when I have less to give. Especially when I have less to give. I had no idea when I stopped serving in LifeKIDS a year ago that by the time the year was over, I would be thankful for my Sunday mornings alone. When I wrote Alzheimer's is a horrid, cruel disease. last March, I had no idea that less than six months later, I'd be using every ounce of my emotional, mental, and physical energy just to function as we struggled to find Dad a home and keep him safe. I didn't know that I would be writing his obituary by October, or how deeply I would be overcome by depression afterward. I had no idea that as the calendar marked a new year, my emotions would still be so fragile that even attending church would become difficult. It's been over two months since Dad met Jesus, and I still haven't conquered this demon we call depression. Last year, I somehow missed the point of "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more...according to HIS power at work within us" and mistakenly believed that I would be the one doing "more" instead of realizing that GOD would be the one doing "more" in me. As we greet this new year, I am broken, humbled, completely reliant on God's strength instead of my own. And so, with my inadequacies and weaknesses bared for all to see, I realize that my word this year is "enough". But He said to me, My grace (My favor and loving-kindness and mercy) is ENOUGH for you...my strength and power are made perfect (fulfilled and completed) and show themselves most effective in {your} weakness. Therefore, I will all the more gladly glory in my weaknesses...that the strength and power of Christ (the Messiah) may rest (yes, may pitch a tent over and dwell) upon me!!   2 Corinthians 12:9

Enough. God's power, God's grace, God's kindness, God's favor....he is enough for me. His power is most effective when I am weak. All this inadequacy I am feeling, all this absolute powerlessness, makes me strong because I am living by HIS power, not my own. And as I know, he is able to do immeasurably more than I can even imagine, let alone do, myself. He is enough. He is more than enough. Already, in the very first day of this new year, I have seen his favor, his mercy, his love. I have watched my husband teach our son how to replace a doorknob, and by doing so, he also taught him how to follow through on promises and how to show others love in the ways they receive it best. That one simple lesson in home improvement showed just how much my amazing husband loves all of us. I am blessed. I have enough. Just today, we received an amazing gift from Cory's parents that will continue to bless us for months and years to come. We have jobs, we have food, we have clothing, and a home. We have our family - all five people in our house love Jesus and love others, and that makes all the difficult moments a little bit easier to navigate. We have pets, reliable vehicles, cable tv, and lots of love. We have friends who are close enough to be family, a church family we love dearly, and the best extended family we could ever ask for. We're always just one text away from a smile - a photo of our sweet baby niece, a funny joke, an encouraging lift from a friend. We are living under the favor, strength, and power of the Messiah, and that is enough. No matter how long this season of depression and weakness lasts, I will remind myself, every day if I have to, that I have God's power, and therefore, I have enough.