My Daddy has been in heaven for 11 years now. Much life has happened here since he left and I often find myself aching to tell him about it. I often long to see his sparkle at the new grand babies we've given him. Little boys with skin darker than his other ones but personalities to match his own--more perhaps than even his biological grandchildren. I think I can picture him better as a little boy now, acting out his passions and whims with charisma and shenanigans. (I think I can empathize with my grandma so much better now.) He would be thrilled at these little ones. What fun they miss without him here too. He would have undoubtedly dazzled them with his doodads and jokes, typewriter time and wheel barrow rides. But most certainly they have missed his love and his wisdom. I know I have.
Every once in a while, Micah will shake his head in sadness that he never got the chance to know his Grandpa. I nod in agreement. "He would have loved you!" I tell him. They would have been buddies.
My dad would have been so excited about our church. He loved ministry. He loved the lost. He never met a stranger. He would be encouraged at the growth we've seen and rejoiced at the people who have come to know Jesus.
My dad used to faithfully pray for spouses that loved the Lord for his children. My dad adored my husband. He would be so pleased with how he has taken care of his little girl. He would have seen as I have, my husband's faith stretched and grown over the past few years. He would know that June 10th, 1995 was a good day indeed. God had answered his prayers.
Lately, as disappointments and grief seem to flood over me, and some things turn out so utterly upside down, I miss his comfort and wisdom and listening ear. I want to say: "Why, Dad? God is still faithful, isn't He?" I want to hear his answer. I know his answer. But I want to hear it.
And this is his answer: "Yes. He is still faithful. I've seen Him now with my own eyes, but I knew it long before that. Take your burdens to Jesus. I'm gone but He isn't. He will never leave you or forsake you. Take your burdens to Him. Take your joy, your grief, your precious ones to Him. You don't need me in this or I would still be there. You need HIM."
So, I don't talk to my Dad--though sometimes my heart longs to. I take it to the one who made my dad. Who gave my dad a new heart one day back in the 1940's. I take it to the One who has a will. A design. A story. A beauty that He is creating. The One who works ALL things together for good to those who love Him. The One who is the First. The Last. This amazing One. He is my Father. And now without my earthly father here, I am so much more aware of this. And I know that this is what HE wants... and it is what he-my dad-would want. Me to come to Him. To look to Him in all the rejoicing. In all the tears and confusion. In all the noise. He is my Father and He is here.
"So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God's Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, "Abba, Father." Romans 8:15
