Dad

There are these little moments that I keep under lock and key in my brain. They may not seem like much {to anyone else} but to me, they are some of my most treasured possessions. I wanted to share them with you, Dad, because you are old and maybe you don't remember them : )

1. In elementary school I was elated when I made the cheer squad. I raced to the door to tell you when you got home but mom had already beat me to it. You entered the room with a big balloon that said "Congats!". It was so thoughtful and you were so excited to give it to me. That balloon didn't make it through the move from Forrest Street to Los Rogues, but it was hidden with my rock collection for quite a few years.

2. We moved to Arizona for a little bit, and then decided to move back to California. You got a job that needed to start right away and you had to leave and start work before we could all come out. The plan was clear, you would be home every other weekend to visit us until we could move out to be with you. It had only been a week since you left and I heard a "bump in the night". I came out to find you sitting at the top of the stairs. I always knew you loved us, but I didn't realize how hard it was for you to be away from us. Back then, Southwest had this deal where "friends flew for free" and you let me know that you had wanted to bring by best little friend {Rebecca Summers} out to visit me. Once again, I was reminded of how sweet and thoughtful you are.

3. Sometime in Jr. High we were out running errands and you had to stop by a fast food restaurant for a minute. The guy at the window the other day had given you too much change back and you wanted to make sure it was returned to the manager. This was not abnormal for you, but I remember thinking that I was so lucky to have a Dad who valued integrity. You have always encouraged us to do the right thing, no matter what the cost.

4. My sophomore year of high school I went {yet again} to summer camp. Each day of the week I received a post card from someone in my family. The last day, I walked up to the speaker who had announced my name for mail with a little hesitation. It was the banquet day if camp and I was all dressed up with perfect makeup and sitting next to a boy I had a massive crush on. I looked down and saw your handwriting...instantly I started to tear up. The first words were that you were "proud of me" and that teenage, insecure, kind of awkward girl needed nothing more than to hear those words from her Dad. That postcard has survived through six moves. Even in this morning, I know right where it is.

There are lots if moments from there to here that are too personal to share on a blog, moments talking about your childhood, helping me through tough decisions, being reassured that you were always on my side, talking about how much we would/do miss Gary, and doing precious things to make Mom feel special.

The best moment, though, I do want to share:

5. Right before the door opened, you turned to me with tearful eyes and said "Are you sure you still want to do this? Because if you don't, I'll march you right out of this church and I will take care of everything." I knew that you would. I have always known that you would do anything you could to protect me and that before you were about to give me away, you were still making sure I was safe. We walked into that room and down the isle, I held your arm so tight and smiled as you told me to "keep my eyes in the prize". You got an opportunity to challenge David with those powerful words "besides her mother, Anna is the most precious thing I have in this earth". Then, you gave me away. Really though, you gave me away a long time ago. You and mom always put us in the hands of the Lord and trusted Him with our lives.

Thank you for being a Dad who cares about the details and notices little things. Thank you for loving Mom so fiercely and giving us girls such a powerful example of what a leader is and what a godly marriage should look like. Thank you for your humor and wit that so often make my day just a little bit better. Thank you for choosing to live a life that is sold out for Christ. You are a rock, Dad, and I don't know many men that have as much integrity as you do. It hasn't always been easy to be your daughter, but I have always been proud to call you my Dad. I am so glad that God have us you.

I love you.

There's a Fountain...

I cry at completely inappropriate times. I could never be an actress who delivers one of those gut-wrenching, Jane Austen worthy, Kate Winslet type of performances. I didn't cry when David proposed, at my wedding, my grandmother's funeral, or when one of my best friends walked down the isle. Here's the deal, though. I cried (sobbed really, for like a half an hour) when I watched Toy Story 3. I cried at a Civil Wars concert. I cried (well, almost) when USC lost the Bowl Championship Series to the Texas Longhorns.

There may be something wrong with me. There are moments where I feel deep agony and for some reason, I can't seem to produce one drop. The moments that I do get "misty" seem totally involuntary. Seriously, like I have no control over my body. (Side note: The whole "me-not-crying-at-the-right-times" is the rule, but it doesn't mean there aren't exceptions.)

Anyway (the point, the point, I ought to get to it eh?) I was visiting a friend's church on Sunday and in the middle of worship a girl came out to do Spoken Word. I LOVE Spoken Word. It's all about the salty/sweet combination of poetry, dynamic, and free form. As she was speaking I felt my heart actually begin to beat faster. She spoke this line "I would still rather draw, than listen." And it happened...

The floodgates opened and steady streams made their way from my tear ducts down to the bottom of my chin where I quickly whisked them away before they dropped to my chest. I wish I had every line of her masterpiece for you but basically, in that moment, her words cut straight to my core. It's about control. About the fight my flesh and mind have against the Lord. About the desire to do anything but surrender. About my creative nature that keeps me sometimes from laying down my own dreams and vision for my life. It about so much more than all of those things. But one thing I know, that line is perfectly and tragically...ME.

She went on to talk about brokenness. She spoke of handing out the shards of her life to people, to anyone. I connected with her desire to be real and transparent. I knew that she wanted to submit to the Lord no matter how humiliating it was, no matter how much it hurt. She spoke of death. Death to one's self and to the things we need to put away. She talked about starting new and fresh and clean. She ended in resurrection.

I can't explain it all perfectly. I am not even sure that I have this whole crying things figured out. But I know that in that moment, I just let it all out. I felt suffering, relief, anguish, and overwhelming beauty. I was supposed to be there in that room and to be reminded (once again) that redemption has stories to tell. That this very day is new and is an opportunity to choose life, to choose Christ. That Jesus makes beautiful things out of the ashes and that every seed dies before it grows. And, that there is so much ahead of me. The Kingdom awaits, heaven is near, Christ is the hope that never fails.

This post is a little messy (much like me) and not quite as circular as I usually like to make things. But here's the deal, it's still part of this grand and terrifying adventure that is my every day life with my Savior. It's real.

And remember, dear ones, a day is coming when every tear will be washed away.

Even the inappropriate ones.