Thankful for a Father

Five years ago, I shared this post on Facebook after a close friend of my cousin's lost her father right after Thanksgiving.  November 29 is my father's birthday; and although he has not been here to celebrate it with us since 2007, it is still a really important day for my family.  This time of year holds so many memories related to loss - and yet is the time when we come together to show our gratitude for our friends, family, and the blessings poured out on us each day.  These feelings often get so mixed for me at Thanksgiving - and many times over the past few years, especially while living abroad, I have chosen to gloss over what it all means deep down.  Its easier that way.  But its not better.

This year I want to choose, every day, to not only remember but to live in the grateful reality of what I have been given - an abundance of love.  Love in my past, love in my present, and no matter what happens, love in my future. The Father is the author of love - and no loss, no memory, no pain, no hurt, no fear, no uncertainty - can stop Him. If only we choose to see it and live in it and stand in the abundance of what His nail-scarred hands and open arms long to shower on us.  If only we can run to His embrace in the midst of joy, fear, or pain. 

I miss my father.  Not every day as I used to - not with the intensity of those first few years.  Not with the heart-numbing sense that held shadow over me those first months.  But I miss him.  I miss his wisdom and how when he was around, not only did I feel stronger myself but also secure in him.  I miss his jolly laugh and his thankful heart.  I miss him - we miss him - part of me always feels like the world misses him.  Like what he stood for, and how he loved, and who he was, and what his life-saving hands could do are missed by this world every day.  But really, he is the Lord's.  He always will be.  And this world is the Lord's.   And so is my family.  And so am I.  

Happy Thanksgiving, beloved ones.  Happy birthday, Dad. 

From November 29, 2010:

Happy Birthday, Daddy

 Today would have been my dad's 60th birthday.  Three years ago, after spending my first Thanksgiving without him, I escaped into a coffee shop in Bridgeport with my Bible and journal in tow.  It had been two months since we lost him and I had avoided these, what used to be my best comforts and time alone with God.  It wasn't that I didn't trust the Lord anymore - it was more that I didn't want to pour out my heart to Him because I was already so empty, I was afraid of what might be left.  
Once I started to pray, and the tears started to come, it was like the floodgates were opened.  My heart, though still in so much pain, was ready to feel again.  I wanted to talk to God, really talk to him, for the first time since Dad died.  A small start, but critical to me.

Exactly three years later now, I am awash with familiar emotions: another year passed without him, another afternoon spent putting a wreath on his grave.  Another Thanksgiving with one less plate at the table, another birthday without someone to sing to.  Watching my mom go through another anniversary and holiday season, I see her strength though I think she sees mostly her weakness.  Her tears and grief are an offering, and she is helping others get through their own in an incredible way.  She is amazing and my dad would be so proud of her.
At the youth group I help out with last night, our pastor asked the kids what they were thankful for.  He asked them to be completely serious, and they were - as far as middle school students get, anyway.  They were thankful for family, friends, for passing tests, for band practice and sports teams. Typical and honest, and blessings all.  But I couldn't get it out of my head that there are sometimes things you are so thankful for, they overwhelm you - and one such blessing happened this past weekend.
On Friday night, a friend of my cousin's (and mine) lost her dad.  It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, abruptly - just the way my dad left us three years ago.  Without warning he was gone, and they are left without their hero, confidant, and guide.  When Paige got the call from her dear friend, we knew only that he was without a heartbeat or breath, and she wanted us to pray.  I felt for my strong, godly cousin in that moment - because she was so far away, with nothing to hold to but the hope and love of Jesus for this family, and she held onto Him with all her might.  We prayed, we cried, we prayed again, and harder; eventually my family went to bed, and still we sat in silence in the family room, hoping that God would use this opportunity for a miracle.  We waited for news - I feel asleep in the armchair, but Paige kept the light on as a true watchman - and near 2:00am we heard that he had passed.  We cried some more, and prayed, and then slept.  I was reminded of David - how he begged and pleaded with God for the life of his son.  And when he was taken home, David got up, and washed, and ate.  This father was at home now, and our prayers were now for the living and hurting left behind.
Perhaps this doesn't seem like something to be thankful for at all.  But if you've lost someone dear to you, you know - those last memories of time spent together are absolutely precious.  How much more poignant that their last days as a family came at Thanksgiving - days already looked forward to and cherished completely.  Our friend told Paige that they had had amazing time together as a family - a true gift from the Lord.  This we can be thankful for - this is a huge blessing from the God who loves us more than we can know.
The Thanksgiving after my dad passed began with a birth - the birth of my beautiful, precious niece Sadie Pearl.  God gave us joy in a time of heartache, peace in a time of pain, beauty in a time of ashes.  I am forever thankful that we had something beyond our sorrow to focus on - Sadie was more than the gift of a life, she was a promise that light would breakthrough the darkness we all felt.
I don't understand the why of hurt - of why this family is without their father, or why my daddy isn't here to celebrate his birthday.  But I do understand the gift of healing - I know that Jesus Christ, the Savior, is present with us in our pain, turning it into something beautiful and good in our lives when we trust in His love for us.  I know that Almighty God, the Father, is holding out his arms to embrace us when we cry.  And I know the Spirit intercedes for us and never leaves us alone, even when we feel like we are.  Such is the mercy, love, and beauty of my Lord - beyond all we could ask or imagine.
Happy Birthday, Daddy.  I know you probably already have, but could you go find Dean Walton and give him a great big hug from everyone down here?  His family and friends miss him more than words can say. I love you & miss you too.