Father God, a note to my Dad, please.
Seriously, 4 years?
The grief feels more raw today. It rushes, gushes, heals.
That conversation we had in your last hour. Ha. Conversation… I was talking at you, my throat squeezed tight, words filling my voiceless pain accompanied by your rhythmic rattle.
I’ve been thinking about it lately. The childhood. The memories. The infidelity. The pain. The secrets. Yes they happened.
But didn’t it make the redemption of God all the more glorious?
God – He broke into that chaos, pouring rivers of living water, drowning dysfunction – and where it flowed, transformation happened.
Some places were harder to reach. Still are. I’m getting there, me and my river of tears. I wish you were still with us, I’d love to tell you about my new freedom.
But then… You have a freedom I can only imagine, and I’m thankful…for both.
Oh Dad! Those prayers you prayed in your little shed?
I know how you always believed, just look at this for a miracle!
Did I just hear a smiling, husky voice from heaven say ‘I knew it, Amen.’
We remember, love and miss you Dad xo