Shattered

One of the last meaningful conversations I had with my father took place about two weeks before he died. I was up late, as I was every night my senior year of high school, and my dad had gotten home from who knows where (he was always out on business as the owner of a law firm). He looked so weary. He looked sad, tired, troubled. I hate that look on anyone, but most of all at that age I hated it on my father. I adored him and when he was happy, everything felt right and secure.

"Daddy what's wrong?"

"Nothing sweetie-doodle, how was your day?"

"Fine. Daddy you look so sad. You can tell me you know, I'm not a baby." (ha)

I don't want to try and quote the rest of the talk because I know 13 years out I won't do it justice but he told me he was tired, that work was getting him down, that his heart felt heavy and out of place. He told me he wanted to be a pastor. I was so shocked by this admittance that I jumped up and said "Do it!!!" Now I can laugh at my juvenile behavior back then, as if my Dad could have just dumped his law firm and moved off to seminary with all the cases he managed and the four children he still supported. He smiled at my support and said, "maybe one day".

But less than two weeks later, his Pastor, Shepherd, and Savior was pastoring HIM. He was finally home.

Today I laid down on the couch, after depositing each kid in a separate room for a mandatory quiet time, and after thinking through several of the day's struggles and trials we are going through right now I felt that same look on my face that my Dad had that night so long ago. Suddenly it was like he was in the room. His memory was so strong it made my throat swell and I said in a whisper "Daddy, I miss you so much." I swallowed so I wouldn't cry but then just sighed. No wonder he looked so tired and sad...being a grown up is just miserable sometimes. In a way it made everything feel a lot more stable than ever before because there wasn't something horribly wrong for him to feel that way. I don't know why as I kid I felt like my world was so unstable any time he was upset. Now I can chuckle and even feel like my world is a lot more stable. He survived, well, I guess he didn't...forgive my morbid humor, but I suppose that's the best part. Being an adult DOES suck, it's hard, lonely, scary, and so ad-lib. But, we just keep putting one foot in front of the other because our release will come. In the mean time, I hope I can live with grace, love, joy, laughter, and wisdom to raise these boys God has entrusted to me so far. All of my childhood views of what adulthood would be like are long shattered and gone, but I think the reality that tries us and humbles us also makes us all the more able to serve and see our need for Christ.