A Call for Moments Not Forgotten

This past weekend, I had a conversation with a good friend of mine somewhere between two and five in the morning. We were sleeping in a dark and slightly frightening basement, so we talked until we were exhausted.

While we were talking, I mentioned that I really miss my dad. (Now I hate to make most of what I write about my dad, but bear with me; it is what consumes me right now.) I mentioned that it was only by God’s grace, and it was no coincidence that my dad called me at four in the afternoon the day he died. It was not a coincidence that I just happened to be home, and I just happened to decide to, for once in my life, pick up the home phone when it rang. Obviously, I did not know it would be our last conversation. It’s funny that our last conversation was about my dog and my favorite cookies—Black&White—my dad was bringing home for me.

For the past (almost) two years, I have looked at that last call, that last conversation as a blessing and a gift from God. If not for that call, I would not be able to remember the last conversation I had with my daddy. And I still do view it as a gift from God, but when my friend and I were talking, she pointed something else out to me that I had never before considered.
She said while it is obvious that God did allow me that phone call in order to have unforeseen closure and some last words I would vividly remember and hang onto for the rest of my life, maybe there is another reason I picked up the phone that day. Maybe God prompted my dad to call the home phone that day, while prompting me to answer the phone, to show that he was with me in that moment.

At times, it is easy to believe that God forgot about my family and I that night; it is easy to forget that he never leaves us, never forsakes us. It is easier to believe that my dad’s passing from this earth into heaven that day was a mistake, and his time was not, yet. It is incredibly easy to think that during the worst night of my life, God was not there, because he was busy helping others out elsewhere. And it does not seem like this would be a comforting feeling, but it is slightly comforting when you struggle back and forth with the idea that God did not prevent the death of your loved one.

My point is, that while it is easy to forget those things, I do know with my whole being that God did not leave me that night. My mother, my brothers, and I were not alone; my extended family, my dad’s friends, my friends—none of them were forsaken by God that night, nor ever. So, looking back, I can understand now that while the most important phone conversation of my life was partly for my closure, my own comfort, and for my future healing process, God was showing me that I was not alone. He never left my side. He did not forget for one second that my father would soon be home with him; God did not overlook the fact that March 15, 2007, would be the worst night of my life. He was not gone on a business trip; he was not checking his email; he was not too busy watching TV or too busy with anything at all. He was right there with me. All the proof I need is in that phone call (and I could say that for Scripture, too). When my dad called at four o’ clock in the afternoon that day, I had no idea what I would find out five and a half hours later, but God did.

He knew I would be devastated. He knew all along that I would be terrified, sick, heartbroken, angry, and in desperate need of my Heavenly Father. He never forgot about me for one nanosecond. He was right there next to me even before I knew what was going to happen. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a forgotten moment. It was God holding onto me when I thought I could never stand up again. It was God preparing me for my future, whatever that may hold.

That night was not forgotten.

The most important phone call in my life proves to me that God was there, in the unknown. He was there with me. He was there with my dad, in his last hours. He was there with my family. Technology may be a nuisance every now and then, and it may be taking over the world, but I am forever grateful for phones.

I know that. ☺

I am also forever grateful for my God, who never leaves me—or anyone.

I forever know and believe that with all of my heart.