father-daughter children's stories

 A father's love is a precious gift. Here is a great website of children's stories about a father's love for his daughter. There are even short book descriptions and suggested reading levels. 

http://www.amightygirl.com/blog?p=3637

my job

My job, to pray. I prayed. It would be impossible to count the number of times I prayed, the minutes and hours I begged and pleaded. I prayed. We prayed. It would be impossible to count the number of people who prayed and fasted and bequeathed on our behalf. Yes, we prayed.

My job, to believe. I believed. I imagined countless times that he lifted his head, removed his life support, arose from his bed, walked throughout our home on his own and spoke. The greatest moment in this imagery was the moment when he spoke. To hear his voice again...usually at this moment, I broke down and couldn't continue imagining—the utter joy was too much for me. I was too overwhelmed by the mere thought of how absolutely incredible God's healing would be.

Yes, I prayed and I believed.

I did my job. Did God do His? I cannot begin to understand God and His ways. Why when he was fully capable to heal, did He not? I'm clueless. But this is His job. He is the healer, Jehovah Rapha. He chose the name, not me. So did he do his part? I have no idea. Am I satisfied with the outcome? Absolutely not.

But that's not my job. My job is to pray and believe. I did my job and that's what I'm accountable for. I will stand before God and I can say 'I did my job.' And God will speak for himself. That's not my job.

(I wrote this September 20, 2014 as I processed deep disappointment and resigned myself to stop asking why. I know that some may think it is irreverent to discuss God's job as if I'm assuming that I get to write His job description. The irony is intentional, and I am choosing to err on the side of authenticity.)

Photo by: Scriptionize

waiting...

Seasons of waiting can be so difficult because they are usually accompanied by uncertainty and helplessness. I've always hated waiting, maybe out of impatience, but I think more so because I can't stand passivity! And, I have an overachieving nature, so I just want to do something, anything to change things, to make things better. (Even though there's always the possibility that my involvement could make things worse!)

Anyways, there were many difficult times of waiting throughout our journey. Back in the fall of 2001...waiting for a diagnosis was terrifying and excrutiating. I was fully aware of both the oddity and anguish of my conviction that almost anything other than ALS would be a relief. And then there were the 12 years following...praying countless times a day for healing and waiting for our miracle to come.

A particularly difficult season of waiting was in the spring of 2009 when my dad was in ICU for respiratory difficulties, awaiting and then recovering from surgery. I felt helpless to change the situation, to stop my father's suffering, to ease his fear, and to bring him out of the hospital, which was a setting he loathed, and back to home, where he had considerably more control over his environment. As anyone who has spent any time at the hospital knows too well, minutes feel like hours, and there's the constant bewildering sense that you're existing in a different realm as life outside seems to somehow carry on without you.

The song "While I'm Waiting"  by John Waller was a source of strength and hope to me particularly during this time but also during other seasons of waiting. It transformed the way I viewed waiting by challenging my assumption that it had to be passive. It is a song that encouraged me when my strength was nearly diminished because it reminded me of the bottomless well of strength I could draw upon. Perhaps in your times of waiting which can, simply put, be torture, this song (and others) may give you some strength.

"While I'm Waiting" by John Waller 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-M7oGrOa2I

http://www.metrolyrics.com/while-im-waiting-lyrics-john-waller.html

Additional Songs about Waiting:

"Waiting Here for You" 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8d80ok40TQ (Martin Smith)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=em8EAHrW9fY (Christy Nockels)

http://www.songlyrics.com/christy-nockels/waiting-here-for-you-lyrics/

"Worship in the Waiting" by Jonathan Deibler 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzEx2awO2Xs
http://www.metrolyrics.com/in-the-waiting-lyrics-ffh.html

"Meet with Me" by Lamont Heibert

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZkVjbt7pbI
http://www.metrolyrics.com/meet-with-me-lyrics-petra.html




Photo by: imgbuddy

to leave a legacy

I was often his voice. Why can't I still be?

There's a story that needs to be told. Stories, I should say. Countless of them. Stories of pain, of loss, of beauty, of revelation, of endurance, of great sorrow and great joy.

I tried blogging about my journey moving to South Korea last year, because I thought family and friends might be interested to hear the challenges, funny experiences, and insights I gain living in a foreign land. I have had many, many stories to share from my life here in South Korea, but I have had trouble writing about them because I haven't really needed a forum to process my journey here. Instead, I have hungered for a place and a community to process my journey of loss and pain. However, I feared nobody would want to read about that journey, so I hardly wrote, or I wrote but didn't share. But I feel there are thousands of stories swarming inside me and I want to voice them.

Because for a long time I was his voice. Why I can't I still be? And his story is not over. Why can't it be told?

My family's journey in many ways was quite private, for a variety of reasons...some personal preference and some logistical due to the intensity of my father's care and the severity of his disease. Now looking back, it was a very lonely journey, as most people's pain can by nature only be understood by the one who feels it, as even those who share it feel it uniquely as their own.

My story is also uniquely mine. Many aspects my family would heartily agree with and deeply resonate with. But much is also unique to my perspective and experience of our journey, my journey. My perspective may be flawed, narrow, and I may be wrong at times as a recount what we experienced, but I can promise I will be honest.

It is a story of unfathomable suffering, heart wrenching loss, disillusionment, and grief... But it is also a story of indescribable perseverance, an unquenchable love, the beauty of a family clinging to faith, and a daughter's love that lives on.

If you want to hear the stories, to be part of this greater story—the legacy of a courageous man, my loving father—then please read on. 




Photo by: WikimediaCommons

tunnels

This tunnel 

means nothing 

to me so I ignore 

the darkness

disregard

the light

I breathe 

I don't

 even

attempt

no more

eyes closed 

no more

 pursed lips 

keeping the air

in my lungs 

until we're

 through

on the

 other side

Tunnels

these were full

 of my wishes full 

of my prayers

I used to

beg 

plead

on your

behalf

I bargained 

accused 

tantalized 

the Almighty in 

these tunnels

full of visions

of you

in these

dark spaces

 I heard your

deep voice

in these narrow

 passageways

 I could see you 

standing 

walking 

running

I felt

your

embrace

I held

my breath 

and in that space

 you were well

But now 

these tunnels passing

through place after place 

are nothingness to me

simply taking up

space 

(Written May 10, 2014)

Photo by: HDwallsource