Proving What's True

I go through phases with my music. I always have my favorites such as Anberlin, Staind, Lifehouse, Third Day, and Relient K...and a few others, but I go through phases with different bands, where I'll listen to only that band for weeks straight. And I listen to them until I discover a new band that is totally awesome. One of my most memorable phases was the Acceptance phase. Too bad they broke up.

Anyway, I recently had an internship with a good friend of mine. He graciously allowed me to invade his photography studio just so I could escape a few hours of the mundane routine of high school. It was really great, because I didn't have any classes I needed to take at this point. So I was...and am very grateful to him. Anyway, during one of my last days there, we were listening to some awesome music...like usual, and I noticed that he had Sleeping At Last, and I was like, "Oh my gosh, you know about Sleeping At Last??!" So, we talked about how awesome they are, and then we resolved to listen to "Ghosts" by this phenomenal band.

As we listened, my heart melted. These guys know how to mix the sweetest melodies with the perfect metaphors and other language devices. My point is I was reminded of a past music phase I experienced that involved Sleeping At Last...that was definitely a good phase. And then I wondered why I ever stopped listening to them?! So, as I was re-introduced to the depth and beauty of the music and lyrics this band produces, I knew I would be continuing a past phase. So, as my Emery phase ceased, I downloaded a large quantity of Sleeping At Last music.

Consequently, my mind has been enraptured by only the lyrics and melodies of one of the greatest bands of all time. I am listening to them even as I am writing this.

One more detail to help tell my tale: last night at Axis, my same friend that gave me the internship, was talking about the wind. And I didn't mention it to anyone, but I absolutely love the wind. I love the wind, because I always seem to find healing in it. I always have experiences and encounters in the wind. And I know it's not coincidence, and I know my mind isn't making things up. I know what I feel. And when I feel the wind, I feel God. So, as I walked home from Axis last night, I lifted my hands to the sky, and blasted "Heaven Breaks" by Sleeping At Last, and I let the wind enfold me. I embraced it. My arms were covered in goose bumps. And my body shivered. But I knew what I was feeling. I was feeling Truth and Security and Love.

The lyrics to the song "Heaven Breaks" are some of my favorite. And I realized why last night. At one point the lead vocalist says, "Only Love proves to be the Truth." Could it be any simpler? People ask me why I believe in God, and I decided I’ll tell them because He is the only One that has proven to be true. Truths may exist in other religions, but none of their gods have ever actually proven themselves to be true to me. My God has…it's so simple. I believe what is true. I realize it's not that simple for others. It hasn't always been so simple for me. But hearing those words and feeling the breeze rush around me...I knew the truth. And I still know it.

Though later on last night, I wept in anguish and desperation for my dad to be back on Earth, in our home, making my family complete. I begged God—for what seemed the ten billionth time—to let my dad hug me one more time. But even as I felt like the loneliest person on the earth, even as those tears streamed down my face, and even as my heart ached for one more warm embrace, one more breakfast, one more day of homemade pizza and Saturday snacks, one more talk on the phone, one more smile, one more: “I’m so proud of you, Kel,”—even as my heart broke every time I called out for my dad, and he didn’t answer me, even as I laid there in the dark, wishing for my heart to stop beating so I could join my daddy in utter bliss, and even as I concluded this pain would never leave me, I was crying out to my Lord. I wasn’t just crying for my pain—I was speaking with God in a more emotional manner. I was communicating with Him in the only way I could—by grieving and crying.

As I was yelling and crying and praying for God to sustain me and comfort me—to carry my pain away, to take me home, to bring my dad back, to do whatever He needed to do to make me stop aching—I suddenly closed my eyes. Then I opened them. No tears spilled forward. My heart was calm. My soul was content. I wasn’t overjoyed or happy, and I didn’t have a warm, fuzzy feeling. But my soul was content, and my heart wasn’t aching. And that’s when I knew I was experiencing God’s comfort more intimately than I ever had. Because it was so sudden—as soon as I let the anger flow out of me, and I asked Jesus to hold me, everything stilled, and I was filled with comfort. It rushed through my bones, and I couldn’t move. I know He has brought me comfort way more times than I can count, but I have rarely felt it as boldly as this time. I was still hurting, and I still missed my dad, but God was answering my calls for comfort. I couldn’t believe it. What kind of love is that? I’m this selfish little girl, thinking I deserve to be comforted—thinking I deserve to have this pain taken away from me, when in reality, I don’t deserve anything. I don’t deserve God to come to me when I call Him, but yet, He does. He never fails, either. He always comes when I call Him, I just don’t always feel it as personally as I did last night. What the heck kind of love is that? How can I ever comprehend that? I can’t. Ever.

So, that line came back to me, “Only Love proves to be true.” Love proved it again. God proved it again. God’s love proved it. He is Love and He is true. Love is true. It has been proven to me over and over again. And I can hardly contain it. It has made me an unusually emotional person. When I feel the slightest bit of love from anyone, a friend, a grandparent, a sibling, a parent, a stranger, I just want to cry. Because what else can I do? I can’t thank anyone enough for their love. So I’ll just cry about it. Sounds good. It’s too great of a thing for me to express my gratitude for it in any other way.

I know this is already super long, but I want to talk about one more thing. In, “Heaven Breaks,” there is also a line that says, “When Heaven meets the earth, we will have no use for numbers to measure who we are and what we’re worth. When Heaven meets the earth, we will have no need for mirrors to tell us who to be and where we fit into this awkward point of view.” And I absolutely love this line, because I hate numbers. I hate math. I hate everything about it—exponential powers, logarithms, frickin algebraic equations, balancing both stupid effing sides—I’ve always been bad at it, and I’ve always been self-conscious of that. And although, the song is not talking about numbers in math, it’s talking about “numbers” with which we “measure ourselves and what we’re worth” to society and what not, still, to imagine a time when we will have no use for numbers, just makes me so overjoyed and excited…I can actually hardly describe it. And also to imagine a time when we won’t need mirrors to see if we are fitting in today, and what we need to change about ourselves, physically, emotionally, spiritually….is so comforting and reassuring. Anyway, that doesn’t really fit in with my whole love spiel, but I wanted to mention that.

I also want to mention that I could write pages and pages about “Hold Still” and “Ghosts” by Sleeping At Last. I could probably just write a book about every single one of their songs, but those two and “Heaven Breaks” are my favorites.

So, those are my most recent thoughts. I hope some of this makes sense to somebody. I hope somebody can sort of understand—I hope I’m not crazy.

The Problem with Change

I think--in fact, I know--that sometimes change sucks. What sucks about it is that usually when you are undergoing a change of some sort--a change of environment, teacher, preacher, friends--usually it is an awesome and positive change at one end of the spectrum, but for the people at the other end....that particular change sucks. Unfortunately, we all have to deal with change. It comes at you fast, and you have to be ready for it, otherwise it sucks even worse. I know...that was deep (just kidding). But seriously, sometimes there is just nothing you can do to stop it, and it sucks for you, but it's awesome for other people involved. It is beneficial to them. But it's a huge bummer for you. You can be happy for them, and you want to be happy for them, because when it is you on the winning end of the "change" spectrum, your desire is that others would be happy for you, too. So we plaster those fake, congratulatory smiles on our faces, give hugs, shake hands, small-talk for awhile, then go on our way--weeping like a child when you drive away alone, or gritting your teeth and blinking back tears at the thought of starting anew in that particular, changed area, or shaking your head at everything you know will go wrong at the onset of this specific change.

But then, when you are the one causing the change, it may be a hard decision, but it's good for you. And you are excited about it, and you have peoples' support--whether they are as happy about the decision as you are or not. And you try to sympathize with them for awhile, because you know it kind of hurts them, but really, you are just so excited, and it is obvious. That is when they put on those smiles and you all pretend that it will be okay. Everything will be fine for everyone. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't. You never can tell, because people want you to be happy. They don't want you to feel guilty for upsetting them and causing them to have a rough time, so they keep it a secret--hidden away, like a time capsule buried in the yard. You keep it buried for so long , that you forget where it is. But you know it's there, buried somewhere, rotting away. Just like that secret. Just rotting away in your mind. Eating at you....blowing all of your issues way out of proportion. It never should have been such a big deal in the first place.

It shouldn't have been a big deal, because everyone has to go through change. EVERYONE DEALS WITH IT. So, you would think it would get easier, right? But everyone also knows that it never, ever, gets easier. Change will always be hard. Granted, changing favorite authors or food or tv shows, is quite a bit easier than changing locations, or break-ups, or losing an activity or animal or a person that you love, but then I'm not really talking about the easy change. The change that matters to you is always difficult. And most of the times, it just slaps you in the face, and you are too stunned and shocked to actually say what you want or need to say. Later, you'll look back at your reaction and you'll wish you had really said what was on your heart. But you didn't get to, and you probably never will, because the opportunity just doesn't present itself the way it did at that first moment--the moment you realized change of some sort was upon you. And you cannot get that moment back. No way. Doesn't work that way.

I've went through a lot of change in my life...especially within the last five or six years. People have come in and out of my life, and it has never been fun, letting go of people. And sure, there has been good that has come out of different situations, but there's also been a lot of hurt and pain and sadness. And I guess in life on this earth, we have to deal with those issues. But sometimes you just feel so alone, and try as you may, you cannot get past those feelings, and you cannot defeat those issues. So you just sit down and stare for awhile. You just hang onto that hope that better days are coming. You hold onto the fact that you will survive, and no matter how bruised, broken, and bleeding you are--no matter how scarred you are--you will come out on the top. As long as you have hope in the right Guy... but it's still incredibly hard.

This is why change sucks. Change can be awesome, but today, I am dwelling upon the negative side of it. Call me a pessimist, but I'm going to write about my authentic, candid feelings. And today I am feeling like change has its "ups" but it most definitely has its "downs."

Really, I wish I could just go back two or three years. That would be great. Then, I wish time would stand still. Or maybe we could just go back to my childhood. Or skip ahead into my future. Really, I just wish Jesus would come. Today, my dear friends, I am sad. Sad about change.

My Heavy Heart

A nice chat with a good friend of mine prompted me to write this as well as how I have felt recently. Lately I've dealt with sort of a hurting heart--not for myself, but for others who are hurting. All I hear from the news anymore is about deaths from the war, bombs blowing innocent people up, brutal stabbings and murders, young children being abducted and molested, sex trafficking, drug trafficking, parents beating their kids, drowing their kids, murdering their kids. I hear about third world countries and their lack of water, education, and health. I hear about the AIDS fiasco, and the staggering number of homeless and unemployed people everywhere. I hear about cruel acts of racism. And it just hurts me. I just can't get away from the devastation and despair. The desperation and brokenness of this world. Then there is the fact that everywhere you look there is sex and drugs and alcohol. Everywhere you look society is telling you to be the opposite of what you already are. You can access the world wide web at any time and pull up hundreds of thousands of promiscuous videos and who knows what else. People are stealing, threatening, destroying, killing--for themselves, for others, or maybe just because they can, for the adrenaline rush, for the feeling of control, for revenge, for whatever--anywhere you go...there is evil--the world is taking a turn for the worst, and I don't see a solution to that, other than Christ coming back....and who knows when that will be--no one. And it's not necessarily the fact that all I hear about is evil and horrendous, but it's the fact that I can't save everyone. I just want to help people. And my heart aches and breaks because there are people hurting, and they aren't getting any help. Nobody is offering them hope. They are at the end of their rope, and they are so close to letting go, and so many times, they do. I'm not sure what the suicide rate is in the US, but I'm sure it's not pretty.

This reminds me of a book I read one time. The title was something about summer, or one of the summer months. But this girl ran away and ended up at these three ladies' house. Their names were August, June, and July (or maybe one of them was May). But anyway, one of the ladies had so much difficulty dealing with all the tragedy in the world that she made a "wailing wall." I think there was like a stone wall, and everyday when she would hear about something terrible that happened, she would write it down on a piece of paper, then she would stick the paper in cracks in the stone wall. And she would go out to the wall and cry and mourn for people she didn't even know--people that lived halfway across the world. This is how she dealt with her despair. But what gets me is the fact that she became so emotional over the tragedy of people she didn't even know. And I feel like I can relate to this. I couldn't before, but recently when I hear a child being raped and murdered, or a fatal car accident, or a teenager committing suicide because she was too scarred and hopeless from an ugly past, or divorces tearing families apart, I have felt so sad for these people....people I don't even know. But I hurt for them and with them, and I wish I could save them. And I wish I could be with them.

I'm not really sure what lesson can be learned, but this is just what's on my heart, and I needed to share. I need to share it, because it's making me so sad. Sometimes it's so hard for me to just smile, and again, I don't even know these people. My heart just aches for them. And I don't want to say I wish it didn't, but I do wish that I could channel this "pain" into something helpful, instead of just feeling useless. Man, I just don't know. I'm not saying there isn't any good in the world. I know there is a lot of good in the world. There is beauty, and love, and hope, and a wonderful promise. I guess if we heard about all of that in the news everyday, the world would be a little happier, a little brighter. Really, all I can say is come, Jesus, come.

But that's not to say I'm just going to sit around until Jesus returns. I'm going to do my part, I will. I mean I strive to now, but I can't help but think what glorious days await me and my fellow "seekers of the Lord." And I'm not, by any means, saying this makes me a good person. I am actually a terribly selfish person. I quite frequently do whatever is the most beneficial for me. And I hate it, but that's just another example of how the world is going down the drain, and why it makes me so sad. So that's what's crackin with me lately.

A Retrospective Day

Well, this may be slightly depressing or sad, but I'm not trying to be a "Debbie-downer." This is just how I have been feeling this past week. It's been a rough one; hopefully, this next week will be a little better.

If I could go back to the days there were five members in my family, I would get up early on Saturday mornings to learn how to make my dad's delicious breakfasts.
I'd pay close attention to how he made his pizza.
I would ask him if he would be proud of me if I went to Moody.
I would go on walks with him and Sammy in the evenings.
I would call him more often while he was on his trips.
I would go with him on more of his trips.
I would play more games with him.
I would tell him more about my life.
I would do more things that he would appreciate and less things that would disappoint him.
I would always assume he was right, instead of yelling at him and thinking he was stupid.
I would watch more movies with him, go on more daddy/daughter dates, get more vanilla malts from Cooks with him, and then make him walk or run the malt off.
I would make sure he was eating healthy and exercising enough.
I would give him ten second hugs instead of one second hugs.
I would send him more emails, give him more calls, give him a surprise visit at his Mishawaka office.
I would ask him about work.
I would pray for him every day.
I would play more catch with him.
I would cook more with him.
I would make him promise me he would get off that plane and be home by nine-thirty, like he said.
I would watch more sports with him.
When he hugged me early in the mornings before he left on business trips, I would get up and talk to him before he left.
I would beg for us to move to Connecticut, so he didn't have to travel so much, and he wouldn't be so stressed.
I would dance with him.
And I would hug him, and never let go.
That's what I would do if I could go back. I don't want "one more day" because that would only leaving me wanting more. But if I could do it over....I would do everything I could to keep from losing him. I cannot wait to see him again. And I will see him again.

"Death is swallowed up in victory....." 1 Cor. 15:54

I Just Want to Say Thank You....

I just want to take a moment to talk about the people that I love. God has blessed me in countless ways, but my favorite thing that God has blessed me with, is all the people in my life. I would love to sit here and write a page about every person, individually, I care about and how they affect me and what not, but that honestly would take hours. Maybe I'll work on that over the next few months.

Anyway, for real, I have the best friends and family I could ask for. When my dad died, within a half hour, my house was filled with people. People that love me and my family. People that cared enough to jump out of bed, or stop watching their favorite TV show, or put off their homework, etc. People that have lives of their own, but put their "to-do list" aside to come and care for my family and I. I will never know everyone who has prayed for me specifically and for my family. I will never know all the people that sent us cards, and kept us in their thoughts. I will probably never even know all the people that came to my house to show us they care. I will definitely never know all of the people that paid their respects by coming to the viewings and funeral. I cannot begin to say how this makes me feel.

But it isn't just all about my dad's death either. I have this group of really close friends, and we are so comfortable with each other. They are the ones that taught me about confidence and taking chances. They are the ones that I see every day. They are the ones that don't get tired of hanging out with me, because we hang out constantly. A big part of my heart belongs to them. And I couldn't thank God enough for blessing me with such a good, positive, solid group of friends. Sure, we fight and there is tension every now and then, but none of that ever gets in the way of our unbreakable bond. We are more than friends. Nothing could happen that would ever tear us apart permanently. We love each other because we have poured out our hearts and our dreams. We have been vulnerable with each other, and let our true, authentic feelings show. I can always depend on them. I love them more than I can say. And I love them all differently because they contribute to my life in different ways. But I still love them all equally and unconditionally.

And then I have this group of friends who are several years older than me. And if they weren't in my life, I'm not sure where I would be right now. They are so much of my inspiration because they have seen just a little bit more than me, and they have experienced just a little bit more, and they can say, "I have been there..." and I can trust that. They teach me; they feed my spiritual needs; they believe in me; they encourage me; they listen to me; and they love me. These people are awesome, because I can be completely open with them, and they just listen. And they always seem to know when I want or at least need advice. And I can't say that they have ever steered me in the wrong direction. I may have not always listened to them, but generally if that happened, I would later wish that I had listened. But what I really appreciate about these people is the fact that they take time out of their busy lives to spend time with me. And listen to me, and help me when I'm struggling. These people love me. And I love them. I have so much fun with them, and they are always encouraging. In fact, I'm not really scared about my future because most of these people have been so encouraging about my decisions. Anyway, a big part of my heart also belongs to them.

Then (and all of this is in no significant order) I have this wonderful family. Flesh and blood. It's a bond that is something special. First of all, my brothers are amazing, and I have grown so close to them. I depend on them for a lot, especially my little brother, and I sometimes feel bad because he does so much for my mom and I. So, I try to do little things for him every day. Anyway, my brothers are great. And I love them more than I can say. My extended family is so special to me. I have awesome cousins. I just spent the week with one of my fave cousins. :) And I could probably write pages about her and what she has done for me, and how she has contributed to my life. I really look up to her, and she is one of the greatest people I know. She has these two siblings (who are also my cousins, duh...) and they are also some great people. Our two families have always been very close. Half of my childhood memories are with them. Man, I have so much fun with them. I could laugh and talk with them all for hours. They are so special to me. But all of my extended family is great. They all care about me, and keep up with me and my life. And I just cannot express how blessed I am to have such a close family. The cool thing is, with my dad's side of the family--my grandma, aunts, uncles, cousin--even if we don't see each other or even talk for years, when we get together, there is this bond...and it's just there....and it connects us. And it never fails. I always enjoy time with them. My dad's family is so special. Magersfest is seriously the highlight of my year. But I don't want to leave out my mom's family! I love them, too!! I love my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandpas and grandmas on that side, too. I have tons of fun with them when we get together. Seriously, I am just like overcome with emotion right now, talking about all these people that care about me.

Man, my friends and family are so special to me. :) I have said that a lot. There just isn't any other way to say it. Now, I haven't even come close to mentioning all of the people in my life that I love. There are so many people. I just want to tell you all. If you know me or know my family and friends, I want you to know that I care about you, and love you with my whole heart. I love watching you grow and mature. I love being a part of your journeys, and I love that you are a part of mine. I would do anything for you. I love you all. And I thank God for you all every day. I cannot express my gratitude for you. But you are important to me, and I care about you. And I want to say thank you for all that you do. Thanks for taking time to be in my life. I hope I can make you proud in my future endeavors and adventures. All my love....

One Whole Year

Well, the dreaded week is upon me. This Saturday it will be one year since my father—my best friend—my daddy, departed from this earth. Almost one year ago, I got a phone call that would forever change my life; my perspectives, my relationships, my faith, my hope, my family, my future—all forever altered by one phone call, one failing heart, one misdiagnosis. Almost a year ago, at 9:50 pm., I heard my mother cry out in despair—a cry of anguish that will forever linger in my ears; she said the words that will forever haunt me and forever take me back to a confusing and desperate time of my life. Almost a year ago, my neighbor told me the most devastating news I have ever heard. Almost a year ago, I saw my brothers cry (which is a rare occurrence). It was the day that will always bring tears to my eyes, and will always break my heart. It was the day that I wept and wept for hours on end, and said, “Oh, my, God,” over and over again—because that was all I could say to God. It was the day that all hope was lost. And for days and weeks and months after, I would struggle continuously.

The day my father died, is the day my faith took a huge blow; it’s the day I stood completely still, as the rest of the world kept spinning and working and functioning. It seemed like everyone should have stopped, but they didn’t. The world went on fine without me, and I was left, cold, clueless, confused, desperate and not able to function in the least bit. I felt so alone, in the darkest place I have ever been—a place of loss, a place of sadness and despair, a place of hopelessness—I thought I could never leave.

I remember being so fearful of what would happen next. Would my brother react with rage and turn away from his family? Would my mother die from a broken and lonely heart? Would we lose the house? Who would fix my car? Who would call me “beautiful”? Who would email me the “word” and “quote of the day”? Who would email me just to tell me they love me? Who would bring me “Black and Whites”? Who would make me breakfast in the morning? And as time marched on, I began to wonder things like, who would walk me down the aisle when I get married? How could I not dance with my daddy at my wedding? We always talked about what song we would dance to. Now, he won’t even be there. And we always talked about “When I have kids…” now my daddy will never be grandpa to my kids. My kids will never even know my dad. I cannot fathom this.

Most likely, my future husband will not have ever known my dad. This is almost unbearable. Two of the most important men in my life will never know each other. So many questions and so much pain resulting from those questions. They haunt me, they torture me. They always leave me broken and hurting. Who is to fill this void in my life?

I am getting my senior pictures taken tomorrow, and I am okay with that, but I have no doubt about how difficult it may be. I can just hear what my dad would have said when he would see the prints: “Kel, these are BEAUTIFUL.” Then, he would hug me, and say, “I have the best daughter a daddy could ever have.” I realize this is slightly corny, but he told me every day that “I am the best daughter a daddy could ever have,” and it always made me smile. He was the only man to ever make me feel so beautiful. I would be standing in the bathroom doing my hair and make-up, and he would walk by and say, “It’s just not fair is it?” and I would say, “What?” and he would say, “All that beauty in one face.” Then, I would chuckle and say, “Nope.” I miss that so much. Every daughter needs to hear her dad say she is beautiful, and he told me almost every day—even if it was in an email. He would tell me how special I am, and how proud he is of me. My dad was my security. How can I live without that? Who will make me feel pretty? Who will make me feel like the most special girl in the world? Who will tell me I am beautiful?

He used to always call me “princess.” Boy, do I miss that. What girl doesn’t want to feel like royalty? When I would stand behind or next to him in a church service and sing, later he would say, “Kel, you girls sounded beautiful during worship, today.” He made me and my brothers the best breakfasts ever. He also made the best pizza ever. I will never taste that delicious food again. I will never stay home on a Saturday night, again, just to help him make his pizza. I will never take Sammy on a walk with him again. I will never hear him speak for Sammy again. I will never hear his voice on the other end of the phone line, saying he would be home soon, or he is in some other state and it is beautiful, and he wishes I was there. I will never get to take that trip to New York with him or that trip to China, or California, or Washington D.C. or Hawaii. We were supposed to go so many places together.

I wonder about these things every day. Every day they hurt me. Every day my heart hurts for the way things used to be. Every day, my soul longs to be in Heaven with my daddy and with my Lord. Every day, new memories present themselves to me. Songs we loved, songs he loved, songs we considered dancing to at my wedding, movies we saw together, restaurants we ate at on our father/daughter dates, books he read, books he wanted to read, places we went to on vacation, letters he wrote, emails he wrote, home videos, so much…so much reminds me of him every day. I could write for days about all the things that remind me of him, and all the things we did together.

So, where am I now? Almost a year later; a year after losing my dad. Well, every day, I feel hurt by God for a little bit, but every day, I am reminded of God’s greatness and glory and the way He works in ways that we could never even begin to understand. And every day, I come to the same conclusion that even if I feel like whatever God’s purpose of taking my dad away from me so early in our lives, even if that reason or plan isn’t worth it to me, God himself is worth trusting. He is worth me putting my faith in Him. He is worth it enough to keep my hope in Him. Knowing that if I keep my faith and hope in Him, someday I will meet God face-to-face and then be reunited with my earthly father, it is so worth it. Believing that when I leave this earth, I will embrace my father again and we will scream and laugh and cry and hug and be full of pure joy, I choose to remain in Jesus Christ. When I picture the day that I will finally meet my dad again, I see us dancing and holding hands and worshipping God and laughing—forever, with God’s glory shining all around us, warm and bright. This day…will be indescribable.

Of course, now I long for this day with every part of my being, every minute of every day—and I long for it so much, many times it hurts, and I just have to stop and weep for that day, because I want it to be now. However, I know that God has work for me to do on earth, and I want to make Him proud and I want to make my dad proud. I have no doubt that my father heard those words: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And I want to hear those words, too. So, though it is extremely and indescribably difficult to focus on my day-to-day activities, I want to honor God. I allow myself times to just weep for the day that I long for with my whole being, but I am here to do God’s work, and I have committed my life to serving Him wherever He chooses for me to serve.

None of this means that it is easy. Losing someone so close to you is not an easy burden to bear. I still hurt, every day. I still cry, frequently. I still miss my dad like crazy, and I still get angry at others and at God, but I love God, and I never stay angry at Him, because He always proves His unfailing love for me by the end of the day. And that is why I choose to stay faithful to my Savior.

Like I said, this is certainly not an easy journey, but I am not the only one struggling. So many people are broken and struggling and hurting and grieving. So many people are alone and hopeless. And let me tell you, the worst place to be is not sadness or loneliness, but it is hopelessness. When literally all hope is lost for a person—that is the darkest and scariest place a person can be. And that is why I am giving my life to helping those people. I want to help people who are hurting and grieving and are at their wits end. I want to help those kids without a bright future. I want to hold the hand of the hurting, and stand beside the broken and offer them hope. I want to be there for the people who can’t see any way out, and I want to offer them the hope and love that I have. Because hope and love are the only things that saved me from losing it after my father’s death. I want to help these people, because I have been there. I have been to the bottom and back—and there is hope. I know what it feels like to lose everything you thought was true. I know what it feels like to doubt God. I know what it feels like to feel betrayed by the one you thought loved you the most. And my heart still hurts, but that is okay, because I can tell these people that it may always hurt as long as we are on this earth, but it doesn’t have to kill you. You can find salvation. And you can use your pain to help others find hope. And I realize that I want to dedicate my life to helping people find that hope and salvation.

Some might say this is one of the reasons that God had my father die, and maybe it is, but maybe it isn’t. Maybe I would have realized all of this anyway, I don’t really care. It’s not relevant. What is relevant is the fact that there are people hurting and crying out in despair, just like me, except they don’t know about Jesus Christ and how He saves us and frees us and loves us unconditionally and gives us hope for a new and better life. Or else they do know about Him, but have given up, because they lost touch with God a long time ago. Or they are afraid of Him or they aren’t really sure what He is all about. Or they are jaded by those who call themselves “Christians” but don’t really display Christ’s love. Or they are just too sad and hopeless to even care. I want to find these people and lavish God’s love upon them and offer them exactly what they need.

Anyway, that is where I am now. I am still hurting frequently, and still weeping, and still longing to be in my real “home,” but I am more than willing to fulfill my responsibilities on this earth. I wholeheartedly want to do my part, and I believe right now, God is leading me to help others who have been where I have been—“rock bottom” as some might say.

That is what this past year has taught me. That is my journey so far, I may have left out many details, just so that this isn’t unbearably long, but this is the basis of my journey through the pain, but more importantly it’s the basis of my journey through the unfailing love, mercy, grace, and hope of Jesus Christ. This is why I follow Him. This is why life is worth living without my father, and this is why even though my dad may not be here to do all the things I mentioned earlier and more, I can still manage to put a smile on my face and praise Jesus. And I think this is why God blessed me with a father who told me every day that he loved me and thought I was beautiful—because even though I wish I could still hear those words every day, he said those words enough to last a lifetime.

So what will I do this week, and especially this Saturday? I will make as much time for myself as possible. And I will weep, uncontrollably for my daddy. And I will remember him, and I will just use much needed time to myself to laugh and cry and sing and smile and cry some more. And I will talk to my daddy, and I will wish with all my heart that he was here with me. But it will be good for me, because I don’t get much time to grieve anymore, and I need it. So, I will grieve and shake and sob, but it will be okay. I will be okay.

My conclusion…God is worth any pain that we endure. God is worth me not turning my back on Him. Keeping my faith and hope in Him is definitely worth it. Because if I am still hurting while clinging to God, how much more will I hurt without anyone to hold onto? How much more will I struggle? I had a glimpse of that feeling this past year, and I can guarantee you, I’m not going back to that place. I will always cry for my dad, and I will always…always, miss him more than I thought was possible. I will struggle, and I will stumble, but I will hang onto Jesus—because as I said before, He is so worth it.

What a year. (By the way, I have been listening to “Never Let Go” by the David Crowder Band while writing this whole thing. It’s a beautiful song.) Oh, and this is slightly hard for me to be so personal and share all of this, but I feel like we are supposed to share what God is doing in our lives, and I felt like I needed to share this.

A Spiritual Run (1/29/08)

So, today I went for a run, as I have been doing at least every Tuesday and as many other days as possible. I have been struggling with relationships with people that are very close to my heart, and I just needed to have a good run to think about my priorities and what not. Today was semi-cold, but mostly it was just misty and cloudy and gray. As I started out on my run, listening to an old-school Michael W. Smith song (that brings back some childhood memories), I was disappointed that it was so dreary. Still, I walked down my street, then picked up my pace and began to run.

It wasn't until I was closer to the end of my run that I began to actually look around me. I was now listening to another Michael W. Smith song that is very special to me. It's called, "How to Say Goodbye." So I was listening to it, being all sentimental like, and I looked up ahead of me at the sky. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a dreary day in Indiana. The sky was light gray, and it was misting. I was breathing semi-hard by now, and my heart was pounding. As I slowed to a brisk walk, I took deep breaths and tried to focus. I felt like something was supposed to be recognized. I was supposed to hear something, see something, feel something. I looked at the gray sky again, but this time it was different. This time I was taken back to my Christmas vacation in Montana. I was taken back to a moment when I stood in a valley, surrounded by mountains, and I felt God's presence.

As I was looking at the downcast sky, listening to the lines, "Tell me how to fill the space you left behind. And how to laugh instead of cry. And how to say goodbye. Here I stand. Arms open wide...," I saw the beauty in that ugly, gray sky. It wasn't ugly anymore. It didn't disappoint me anymore. I saw that a gray sky is just as beautiful to me as a colorful sunset in the mountains. God created both of them, and they are both beautiful. And I can see God's glory in colorful and rainy skies. I think this is because for me it's not about the way it looks, it's about the way that it makes me feel. I connected with God in both places. I felt Him both times. I thought you had to travel somewhere beautiful to feel and experience God, but today I found that to be false.

I have always thought it to be a little cliche when people talk about feeling people "through the wind," but today I decided that even if it is cliche, it is true. I have been so sad lately, just wanting a single hug from my daddy. It has been over ten months, and I wanted a hug. Just one hug. Anyway, so I'm walking down my street, still listening to the same song (I had it on repeat), staring at the beautiful, gray sky, and no lie, just as I started thinking about my dad, I felt a cool wind rush around me. And I knew then, that my dad was hugging me. Some may not believe this. Some may call it a coincidence. But I don't believe in chance happenings. I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in God. And I believe that He let me hug my dad today. So, I closed my eyes, listened to the words of the song, opened up my arms, and let the wind engulf me. People looking out their windows, may have thought me to be crazy, but I didn't care. I was having a very spiritual moment. And it was awesome. I love these moments. I cherish them.

When I got home, I wasn't ready to go inside and face the music, so I went around back and looked out at the field, and the sky, and the beauty, and I just stood there for, well, i don't know how long. But I embraced that wind. And I saw the beauty, because there is beauty in everything. Because God created it, and He is Beautiful.