Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Wooden Steps

My dad passed away on February 2. Now I'm an orphan.  No matter how old you are, that's a really weird feeling. I'm simply living one hour at a time, astounded... Like What the heck is this...  Just like my Jesus to be so very present in this though. There are gifts He brings me even as I turn my head aside, trying not to notice, trying to pretend this isn't happening... I can't stop singing about Your love. Your gifts are present, obvious, and extravagant. I just don't want this to be happening.

I was honored and privileged to be there for a neighbor friend last night. We had imposed on her earlier in the day to see their little calves, but she stayed on my heart. Lydia and I baked some scones for her and took them to her. She dissolved and told us about the great sadness she's been going through. My heart broke for her all night long. I can't stop thinking about her. My heart broke with blessing when Kev said this morning, "Let's get her in there! Let's just pay for her PT treatment!"  How profound is MY blessing in this...! How healing and satisfying for me to be able to show love to someone else in need right in the middle of my own! We were made for this. This moment is not about me--it's about Jesus, as is every other moment in all of forever.

I am learning of Heart as I step through this. Sometimes the steps are wooden, but sometimes they're light and free. I strive to see Beauty in all of it.  I know it's there, even in the fog of grief.  My dear, sweet, wise friend Susie told me to keep writing as I process this. There is healing in it for me, I know, even if it's twaddle to some... I beg indulgence as I write my heart and mind without edit.

When I was in college, I found a poem by May Sarton about her father. It touched me even then when my dad was all strength, clear mind, and hard work. I'd forgotten about it until I came across it as I perused my past posts. Except for the parts about him being unhurried, liking donkeys, children, awkward ducks, and then him being undiminished, it's a pretty good call.

Most of the time I'm okay. The times when I curl up and howl are what take so much out of me. But I know it has to be this way. This is the way I process. This is the way I'm made up. Anything less would be suffocating what I'm feeling, and I so don't want to do that. I learned this from my Jewelee when she lost her husband in a tragic accident--I want to do this right the first time because I don't want to go through it again.

I'm having a hard time losing my dad. He was really a wonderful person, even if only a handful of people ever got to experience that. My mom saw it. My brothers and I experienced it. And Jesus knows it. That's all I run with right now.