How can you miss someone when they are physically still here?
How can your heart ache so deeply and long for what once was?
The memory thief pulls and tugs until there is but a shell.
A shell of the person that once was.
The strength; staunch independence now shadowed.
How cruel it seems to watch.
How twisted the path.
We are powerless to stop the movement.
Helpless to change.
Yet we are not without hope.
Hope that one day all this torment will be gone.
The day when sweet reunions are fulfilled.
When pain ceases to exist.
Oh, how I long for that day.
This day set apart to honor our Father’s has left me unsettled.
My Father in Law in heaven the past 15 years.
My father here on earth; yet his mind fragile.
My farmer such a good father.
One son who will never be a father.
And I linger there on those thoughts. . . .too long.
Do not call to mind the former things, Or ponder things of the past.
“Behold, I will do something new, Now it will spring forth;
Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
Rivers in the desert.”
Sometimes the past can hold us too tightly.
It’s clutches relentless in it’s pursuit to undermine; tell lies.
Beat us down until we have no self worth.
Until doubt becomes our truth.
That is not truth at all.
It is the moving forward that we are called to, that speaks of truth.
Seeing the new thing that God is doing.
Having eyes to see.
To be aware that God is moving.
Sometimes the movement is so subtle that if we’re not careful, we’ll miss it.
A reminder that God is at work.
Letting go of the the past.
Stepping toward the future is risky.
Yet it is full of all the hope that God provides.
Our way is not riddled with perfection and all good things.
The way is rough and painful.
Underneath all though, there is a joy.
A joy that can not be stolen.
Not when cancer creeps in and snuffs out the light.
Not when the memory thief takes up residence.
Not when death rears it’s ugly head and your son is called to glory.
Not when cancer creeps into that dear, dear farmer
and the joy thief clutches tightly.
The joy will never be stolen.
The deep, beautiful gift of joy.
When the world falls apart around us.
Joy will stand.
So this Father’s Day.
I will choose to remember the wonderful Father in law I had.
How much he sacrificed for his family.
How steadfast he lived his life.
I will remember the crazy father I have.
His love for me, fierce.
His words of wisdom still solid truth, or good for a chuckle.
I will remember the wonderful farmer and his gentle ways.
His love for his children and all children that cross our path.
Most of all, I will give praise to my heavenly Father for never letting me go.
For walking this rough and beautiful path right beside us.
For letting his son; his one and only son, be the vessel by which we are all forgiven.
Once. . . for all.