Happy Father's Day!

I would like to wish all the dads out there a very happy father's day! This is a wish from a daughter who was deeply loved by a daddy for 33 years, who wanted nothing more than to make her daddy proud, who misses her daddy tremendously. This is also from a daughter of God, who is now hosting my daddy in His house of many rooms, who loves His daughter despite my many shortcomings. Being a daughter of a great dad requires much humility.

A couple weeks ago, I came across a letter I had written to my dad about 2 months before he died. I had no idea he was going to die when I wrote it, but I also did not have much hope that he would live much longer. On my way to CT to deliver this letter and visit for Em's second birthday, Em got sick in the car. I was almost half way and I had to pull over and call my father to tell him that we wouldn't be coming. That was one of the most difficult phone calls I ever had to make, and to this day I always feel a wave of grief when I remember it.

My dad at that point was very sick. His stem cell transplant had not worked, he had lymphoma tumors taking over every part of his body, Christmas had been very taxing on him and I had been surprised that when I talked to him on the phone the day before we were to drive up he was vacuuming the house! He actually sounded excited that we were going to visit. It was definitely the most upbeat conversation I'd had with him in weeks, and we talked almost everyday. He loved his granddaughters and was so excited to celebrate Em's birthday with us.

As I pulled off the highway and into a parking lot, I just knew I'd be breaking his heart more than mine was split. As I explained what was going on, he agreed that there was no way I could march a toddler with a virus up to his germ free zone - even if it was for her birthday! His body just could not survive that kind of invasion, especially in the dead of winter. So, I turned around and drove home, where I spent the rest of the afternoon laying next to my sick daughter, who by that time had a fever and was vomiting nearly every half hour. Even the thought that I'd at least not returned home for nothing didn't help the anger I felt toward God to taking away what would have been my last fun and exciting weekend with my father. I really felt for the longest time like something was stolen from us. At least, God, could You have given us one last wonderful weekend?

It was only a week later that I called my dad one morning to find him very ill, disoriented, dehydrated and alone. I spent all morning locating my mother and brother and convincing them that my dad needed to be in the hospital. You see, none of us wanted to see what was right in front of us - my father was dying. I can remember looking at pictures from Christmas that we picked up after he did pass away and thinking to myself, "How could we not see that he was dying? Why wasn't it obvious to us?"

That was his last day home and the beginning of a 6 week hospital stay. We held out hope until the very end that we might be the recipients of a miracle, but that was not the case for us - at least not a medical miracle. When I came up I brought him my letter and a poster the girls and I had made with picture of all of us. He asked that we hang it behind him, I think so he wouldn't have to look at it and all the memories he'd be leaving behind. Along with my letter I left him a little Inspirational book by Max Lucado.

Later, when my dad was in a coma in a hospice suite, I found that book with my letter folded up inside. Inside the book my father outlined the misery and pain that had enfolded his life. It was written not as a diary of sorts, but as a prayer. He left it in a section of the book entitled "Heaven". In my letter to him, I'd written what every child should tell their parent - exactly what he taught me, what I learned from him, what he meant to me and my family and how proud I was to be his daughter. Each time I read that letter, I am humbled and reminded why God "took away" that weekend from me.

That was one letter that didn't end up in the top drawer of his dresser in a book that my father never opened. It was a letter he got to read anytime he needed to know that he was loved and that his life on earth made a difference, it mattered. That book provided the promises of God my father needed to be reminded of, the last of which was that heaven is our home and Christ is waiting there to welcome us with open arms. It was a book and letter than ushered my father to his eternal home - and if you really want to know what a miracle is, it is that Christ loved us enough to make a way for us to be with Him forever.

I don't really know why my father had to leave us and of course I wish God hadn't taken him so soon. I'm not mad anymore, though, that I lost that weekend. I can see now that God had a few loose ends to take care of with my dad before He brought him home, and how He used us to help with that. The miracle for me is that someday I'll be with my father again, and that is a promise. I will have more fathers days with him than I will have without him only because my heavenly Father has provided a way for that.

Thank you, God, for a wonderful earthly example of a father. Thank you for taking care of my daddy and for providing a way for me to see him again. I really miss him, and You understand that better than anyone on earth. You are my Everlasting Father, my Prince of Peace. Amen.