Saturday, January 26, 2013

His Hope is My Hope

Sit down and write I tell myself and it will come. Already, I thought of a few things to write about. I'm reading Melody Green's book on the life of her husband, Keith. I'm not finished with it, yet, so I'm holding off commenting. Then the words-it will come, brought back Field of Dreams.
This movie quote is used often with ministries, visions and ideas. I first saw this movie in Emporium. David's sister brought it for the family to watch. We crowded into my in-law's living room. I still admired Kevin Costner then.
I cried deeply at the end of this movie. The timing came shortly after my father died. Oh, to just see him again. Even in a corn field. Anywhere is how I felt then. I missed him so much. Unlike many movies about dads, I had no unresolved issues about my father, except that he died too young.
I also felt so alone, because no one else in that room possessed the fresh grief I had. Everyone else had their father, or it had been so long since their fathers died that I didn't think it dug as raw at them, like mine did. I escaped to the room we were staying to be alone.
In that early grief, that lasted many years, I never wanted to bring it up, even though it was constantly with me. Once in a while someone would say a kind word about my father or say they missed him. I clung to those moments where my ache seemed validated.
My father meant so much to all of us kids. After he died, we stumbled along, not wanting to cry. Our north star blazed into eternity, the spot empty for a long time. A void never to be filled, but we are thankful for what he was.
I look now at his picture on the wall and one we pulled out, placing on the TV, of him holding baby Katie Beth. How he loved his grandchildren. His wallet had Katie's hospital newborn picture, two of all his granddaughters and the one of him and mom, where he is holding her to stand for the picture after she hadn't walked for two years. The photographer asked if he could help her stand for that picture and he always could hold Mom. Mom walked because of his faith in her and his God to heal.
Even though those twenty three years ago after the movie, I felt alone, I know I was never alone in my grief. Reading my Bible, especially the Psalms, brought verse after verse of comfort to me. The letters to Timothy reminded me of Dad guiding me in my Christian walk.
I felt robbed that Dad left this earth so early. I reeled that some men still lived. I had dreams. I had a field of dreams. I missed him as I started home health. He knew these Mercer County roads. He taught me short cuts. He was better than Thomas, my GPS. I missed him as my children grew and my niece Sarah was born. I longed for him when my mother needed that extra help at home. I knew he could take care of her.
I think of how Mom had dreams of him standing over her bed, smiling at her, wordlessly. He glimpsed at us from glory. Hebrews 12:1 says we are surrounded by a huge cloud of witnesses. He is in that cloud. He is encouraging his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren on. Now, he has my mother with him in that cloud.
The grief is replaced by hope. Hope I will see him again. Hope that I couldn't have been raised by a better father. Hope that I have the best memories. His hope is my hope. Jesus.
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