Monday, October 25, 2010


You gotta go to and read Hannah's latest entry dubbed "Pink." This daughter of mine can write..thank You Lord God for her life and how she has turned her face and her heart towards You, even when fiery trials come...
Better have the kleenex.

Back to "Daddy."

Cowboy boots. Keys jingling and swaying off his belt. An orange F-150. Big, calloused hands. And those forest green workshirts stained with sweat. I remember those from a young girl and admired my Daddy for all his hard work. He loved being outside. I hauled more wood than I can remember; Steve and I, mom too, all out, bundled up, chain saw whining and wood chunks flying. Saturdays were usually reserved for getting wood. I thought my dad was tough and invincible...

I was in college when he was diagnosed. Not a young child by any means, but it still terrified me that something invisible could threaten my Daddy. Cancer was in his lymph nodes. I wasn't even sure what those were to be honest. I remember simply thinking "he will be ok."
He lost his hair. He still drove his truck. He wouldn't wear wigs, thought they were dumb. His hair came back curly, just like mine did.. I took him to a couple chemo sessions. He was very brave and never complained. I remember driving him home from Lansing and we had to stop so he could throw up ..he was embarrasssed. I was scared. All the while I'm going to college..telling myself he will be alright.

I graduated with a degree in science. Dad was there. One year later, he walked me down the aisle as Tim waited for me. I can still feel his arm on mine, and I still remember him telling me he loved me and was proud of me. I loved him so much...

The cancer came back. Dad tried to.

24 years ago, this night, October 25, 1986, I was trying to sleep in the hospital chair, in Dad's room. He was fighting pneumonia and had been for two weeks, but he had gotten real bad. His body had a temp of 105 when he was admitted. He was delerious with fever...

They called a code blue on my Dad..I got pushed out of the room, and held mom in the hallway..
I knew he was gone when the dr came and delivered the "I'm sorry but we did all we could" speech.

One of my sorest regrets this side of heaven, is that I did not go back into that room and say goodbye. I was afraid if I did, I would not be able to be strong for Mom. I was scared, devastated and bereft of any courage to kiss him one more time...

I was 26. My Dad has not held any of my children. He did not see my first buck I shot with his lever action rifle. He hasn't gotten to talk guns and bullets and reloading with my husband. He was not at Steve's wedding, nor has he seen any of Steve' children or beheld his only daughter in law. He would have been such a proud grampa of 8 grandkids!!

I suffered from such despair after his death. Tim and I were newly married. Mom was now a widow. I had anxiety attacks. I got very thin. I was mad at God. Very mad.

Time does not heal us. God does. Grief waxes and wanes. God stays the same.

If I have learned anything, ANYTHING, it is this: Whatever comes into my life will either make me a bitter, angry, unforgiving person
it will burn off the dross of my life and refine me--
It is my choice and no other human being on earth can make it for me.
I choose You God.

I miss my Dad more than I can describe. I miss my brother so much some moments, my chest hurts.
But I still love God and trust Him
because He is good,
and knows what is best for me.

Tonight I comfort my Daddy-less life with this treasure from God's storehouse::

"In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials,
that the proof of your faith,
being more precious than gold which is perishable,
even though tested by fire,
may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ;"
I Peter 1:6,7

Thank You Lord, for my Dad.

I love You,

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