Today is the first anniversary of this blog that has been enjoyed by so many, and marks a perfect time to return to writing. A break was very much needed as this blog became too important to me, and I had to let it go, waiting for the words to come again, in their right place and time.
Twenty seven years ago today, I lost my fourty one year old father to a heart attack. I was six years old and my sister, Kim, was thirteen. Tomorrow, I will go to Prestonwood Baptist church at 11am, with a thirteen year old girl now in my care, to remember her mother, who, at thirty-nine years old, died the day after Christmas of an apparent heart attack.
As a matter of fact, Bagheera has been to Prestonwood only once before. Her first Christmas, she saw their Christmas production with my daughter, Amelie and I. The most fantastic irony is that we were both fierce agnostics (and I hated Prestonwood), and both of us were there 'just for the kids.'
So much has happened since my last entry about August's Re:train session, and my abscence from writing. The most important event was reuniting with my friend Bagheera in September at Kelly's Eastside for a beer and some lunch, to discuss what had happened in the time since we hung out regularly (we used to be with eachother everyday), and together, quite unexpectedly, we cried over some very deep conversations that day that exposed both of our hurting hearts, to a much deeper degree than we ever had in the three years we'd known eachother.
We had a moment that day, I swear, she and I cried together in the same millisecond of an instant. It was as if our tears raced eachother to fall first. In that express moment that was quicker than a blink of her beautifully odd colored and flecked eyes, it was like we were sewn together. That was one of the most intimate moments I've ever had with anyone. To this day, if I were to run into the waitress, I bet she'd remember interrupting the two women toward the front, that hot, September day, frozen and staring at eachother, their faces laden with free falling and fat tears, as one remembered a past she ran hard to forget, while the other sat in the grief and emptiness of not knowing her past.
That was the day we decided to become roomates. A short term situation, from October until January.
Who knew?
God did.
Casablanca lillies are one of my favorite things - if ever you want to make me smile? White lillies are the way to go.
On December 22, 2012, Bagheera bought me some lillies for Christmas.
It snowed on Christmas Day. This is Texas and that has happened a handful of times since my birth.
On Christmas Day evening, I "randomly" spoke with my aunt (whom I see about once a year) about my father. She remembered how right after he died, I would sit up at night, six years old, wailing for my daddy to come home. My mom, now a single parent of two girls, not knowing what to do, would call my aunt, and she would pray. That was the last conversation I had before I left my mother's house to go home.
The next morning, I held a thirteen year old girl in my arms, in the kitchen, the day after Christmas, as I waited for an ambulance to arrive, and felt her sink when the EMT's said as gently as they could, "We are so sorry for your loss."
How great is our God that He would have me in that home, to be with this young lady whose only constant in her entire life was now taken from her, and to have stirred my heart to remember the grief and sorrow of losing a parent not twenty four hours prior?
When I went to bed that night, that first, terribly rough night, I noticed the lillies bloomed.
And just today, on the eve of her memorial service, there is one lilly left that may last the day tomorrow.
I have never had one vase of lillies last seventeen days.
This has been one of the hardest week' of my life, under the circumstances. But this is what I have clung to... God is constant. His love is constant, timeless, and unchanging. Although I have been through insurmaountable grief in the circumstances, I have held fast to the fact that nothing has happened, not even one thought, that He, the creator of the Universe, was not aware.
Read this blog, and you will see a full year of His promise.
Just like He knew my father would die. He knew my story, and He knew I'd be here for this child, in whatever measure, and for however long, to show her not only my love, but God's love, the author of love. Christ's love is the only love that sustains, gives life, and can endure through the ages, no matter the circumstance, or even - country - you find yourself in.
Bagheera knew that.
That is why this song had the impact on her soul it did. Everytime she would cry.
God is in control of even our defiance of Him.
I believe she finally called His name. All it takes is the name Jesus.
Twenty seven years ago today, I lost my fourty one year old father to a heart attack. I was six years old and my sister, Kim, was thirteen. Tomorrow, I will go to Prestonwood Baptist church at 11am, with a thirteen year old girl now in my care, to remember her mother, who, at thirty-nine years old, died the day after Christmas of an apparent heart attack.
As a matter of fact, Bagheera has been to Prestonwood only once before. Her first Christmas, she saw their Christmas production with my daughter, Amelie and I. The most fantastic irony is that we were both fierce agnostics (and I hated Prestonwood), and both of us were there 'just for the kids.'
So much has happened since my last entry about August's Re:train session, and my abscence from writing. The most important event was reuniting with my friend Bagheera in September at Kelly's Eastside for a beer and some lunch, to discuss what had happened in the time since we hung out regularly (we used to be with eachother everyday), and together, quite unexpectedly, we cried over some very deep conversations that day that exposed both of our hurting hearts, to a much deeper degree than we ever had in the three years we'd known eachother.We had a moment that day, I swear, she and I cried together in the same millisecond of an instant. It was as if our tears raced eachother to fall first. In that express moment that was quicker than a blink of her beautifully odd colored and flecked eyes, it was like we were sewn together. That was one of the most intimate moments I've ever had with anyone. To this day, if I were to run into the waitress, I bet she'd remember interrupting the two women toward the front, that hot, September day, frozen and staring at eachother, their faces laden with free falling and fat tears, as one remembered a past she ran hard to forget, while the other sat in the grief and emptiness of not knowing her past.
That was the day we decided to become roomates. A short term situation, from October until January.
Who knew?
God did.
On December 22, 2012, Bagheera bought me some lillies for Christmas.
It snowed on Christmas Day. This is Texas and that has happened a handful of times since my birth.
On Christmas Day evening, I "randomly" spoke with my aunt (whom I see about once a year) about my father. She remembered how right after he died, I would sit up at night, six years old, wailing for my daddy to come home. My mom, now a single parent of two girls, not knowing what to do, would call my aunt, and she would pray. That was the last conversation I had before I left my mother's house to go home.
The next morning, I held a thirteen year old girl in my arms, in the kitchen, the day after Christmas, as I waited for an ambulance to arrive, and felt her sink when the EMT's said as gently as they could, "We are so sorry for your loss."
How great is our God that He would have me in that home, to be with this young lady whose only constant in her entire life was now taken from her, and to have stirred my heart to remember the grief and sorrow of losing a parent not twenty four hours prior?
When I went to bed that night, that first, terribly rough night, I noticed the lillies bloomed.
And just today, on the eve of her memorial service, there is one lilly left that may last the day tomorrow.
I have never had one vase of lillies last seventeen days.
This has been one of the hardest week' of my life, under the circumstances. But this is what I have clung to... God is constant. His love is constant, timeless, and unchanging. Although I have been through insurmaountable grief in the circumstances, I have held fast to the fact that nothing has happened, not even one thought, that He, the creator of the Universe, was not aware.
Read this blog, and you will see a full year of His promise.
Just like He knew my father would die. He knew my story, and He knew I'd be here for this child, in whatever measure, and for however long, to show her not only my love, but God's love, the author of love. Christ's love is the only love that sustains, gives life, and can endure through the ages, no matter the circumstance, or even - country - you find yourself in.
Bagheera knew that.
One thing she always said was that she knew God was with her. Even when horrible things were happening to her, all those things locked up in the drawers of her aching heart, she knew God was there.
That is why this song had the impact on her soul it did. Everytime she would cry.
God is in control of even our defiance of Him.
I believe she finally called His name. All it takes is the name Jesus.
