Faith

Going Out and Coming In

IMG_20160901_173434My dad joined my life before my first birthday.  He was a larger than life character in his Corvette and as the story goes,  I wasn’t so fond of him.  When I would hear his car pull up for a visit, I would crawl as quickly as I could to the front door to try to shut it.  I don’t remember those days of course, but it’s easy to imagine that I probably wasn’t too fond of my dad’s old school, lay down the law ways. Nevertheless, I soon became his 5th child by marriage and his legal child a few years later through adoption.

W.E. Green is the kind of dad that made me feel safe when I was young.  He was strong and had a gregariousness that made people notice and respect him.  He was a manager by profession so he has always known how to run things and make them happen.  As a child I saw him as unbreakable, constant, and generous; and that made me feel loved.

I am grieving over his illness and the thought of him dying today.  Lying quietly with eyes filled with  tears, I began replaying in my mind scenes and stories of our life together–trips in the many motor homes we owned, Winchell’s Donuts and Church on Sundays, the horse races, and everyday snapshots like watching him walk around the neighborhood with our dogs, peeking at him when he takes a deep breath to pray over the thousands of meals we have had together and seeing him in his office with his Marilyn Monroe picture near him and using his pen to pay bills and then placing it in his lifelong pen holder.

Security is the theme that was impressed on my heart by these scenes.  Throughout my life my dad has always made me feel secure.  I never wondered if he would provide for me or if he would be there.  I never wondered if I would be safe or if he would allow me to be placed in danger.  I never wondered if he really knew what to do or was faking it.  Nope, he was and has continued to be a source of security for me and I realized that his secure presence is really what I’m grieving today.

God’s word is a faithful friend in grieving and Psalms 121 is speaking to my hurting heart. It says in verse 7 and 8,  “The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.  The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.”[pullquote] “The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.  The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.”[/pullquote]  I love that God gently reminds me that ultimately HE is my security from now until I’m with him.  He urges me not to fall into fear.  It’s a sweet way that Jesus is hugging me and whispering, “I’ve got your back.”  But even better is that I know that this verse is also for my dad– who is completely confident in Jesus, who has kept his life and will keep it safe all the way to the throne of God and forever.

Hanging tightly to the promises of God and forever grateful for all of your sweet comments, prayers, and hugs.

XOXO,

Summer

 

 

 

 

Faith, Love

and so it started

CYMERA_20160831_224851We found out my dad had cancer 20 months ago.  We were saddened by the news, but because it wasn’t very advanced, it didn’t seem real or terribly pressing.  He made the decision at the time not to fight it because of his age and his desire to maintain a good quality of life.

Yesterday though, it all got real.  As I stood next to my dad’s hospital bed he told me that the doctors had given him a more specific amount of days left.  All kinds of emotions came flooding in as my mom and I tried to process this news. I felt stunned.  I had no idea how to react.  Many of you know how this feels and can recall the exact moments in your life when you heard similar news.  It is nothing short of surreal.

During the last 24 hours I have held back tears numerous times.  When I talked to my daughters, I tried to remain factual so that I didn’t trigger panic in them.  When my mom started to get scared, I held back the tears so that she would be able to rely on my strength.  And today, I held back tears as my dad talked to his Palliative Team about my faith and writing because I didn’t want to ugly cry in front of strangers.  I decided tonight that I don’t need to hold them back any longer though. This crying is a gift.  This crying allows me to feel the sadness and to process the loss that is occurring.  It tells my dad that he matters to me and that I love him and will miss him greatly.  It supports the emotions of my mom and my girls and says that I’m here, fully present, and you can let go with me and be vulnerable.  My friends will also get to see me cry, not to make them feel awkward, but to open myself up to humbly receive kindness and care.  My hope is that by receiving this care, others will know that I am available for them when they need it from me too.

Y’all know that being authentic is really important to me.  I am no longer able to put on a happy face and pretend that life isn’t filled with a large spectrum of emotions and experiences.  And this time will be no different. My blog will be devoted to honestly seeking Jesus while grappling with this grief.  I know many of you have been here and I long for your support.   I know the last few weeks of his life will be hard as I wade through family emotions, give courage to my grieving girls, love and support my mom in the ways that she needs, and crown my dads life with gratitude and joy.

This journey I’ve just begun demands faithful companions.  I hope you’ll join me as I rely on Jesus hour by hour to hold me heart and my hand.

XOXO,

Summer