some thoughts on hope

Today was a very joyful day because I got to meet with one of my favorite patients, a person I consider my spiritual father because of his wisdom, life experience, and personal walk with the Lord. I wrote about this patient in a previous blog post - when he was younger, he murdered a man and was supposed to have received the death penalty. For some reason (thank goodness), he was spared his life and instead spent decades in prison. At one point during his imprisonment, he encountered Jesus intimately and radically and gave His life to the Lord. During today's visit (which always exceeds the average patient visit), this patient and I talked about hope. Hope is a funny thing, it is intangible and abstract and yet, it has the power to sustain and carry us through the darkest of times. For this patient, when he met the Lord, he still had 19 years to serve in prison. Yet, he looked at me and said that during this time, his hope in the Lord grew with each passing year.

We continued talking, and he talked about how oftentimes, prisoners were given mail from the outside world. He looked at me and stated, "Grace, I never received any mail but I was okay with that because I received the greatest news when I met Christ." Eyes sparkling, he continued, saying "The Lord wrote me and my entire existence."

In addition to meeting with this dear mentor, I had my appointment with behavioral health and caught her up to speed on recent events, specifically my recent interaction and heartbreak over what happened between my dad and I on Father's Day. As devastating as that interaction was, God redeemed the day in the form of ministering to me through Christian community. Dr. Palmer pointed out that my Heavenly Father came to my aid and showed me His perfect Fatherly love on this day. It's true - the Lord meets my deepest hurts and deepest needs and satisfies me. I am truly thankful because when I look back on that day, the love that I experienced in the most painful moment will have sapped the bitterness ensuing from the conversation that I had with my father.

Dr. Palmer and I continued to process together and I told her that the winds were shifting and that this season was changing. Since Father's day, I have felt more at peace and more joyful in surrendering my relationship with my dad to the Lord. I have realized that the Lord needs to be my everything. He wants all of me and I want to give Him all of me. Complete surrender. I recognize that my relationship with my dad has never had a stable foundation - it has always been resting on straw and in this last interaction, the straw holding up our relationship was completely incinerated. God allowed this conversation to happen, and I believe and trust that it is because the Lord wants to renew this relationship by starting with putting down a more secure and authentic foundation. I do not know when and how or even what this will entail, but I trust that it is in the Lord's hands. He is the worker of miracles and I trust that in His timing, my relationship with my dad will be a beautiful thing.

Hope is a curious thing. I cannot smell it, hear it, see it, taste it. And yet, it has the power to sustain. As a daughter of Christ and a follower of Christ, I have full access to the hope that Christ offers. What a crazy, beautiful gift.

Abba, Father.

I called my dad for Father's Day yesterday and it was probably the hardest conversation I have ever had with him. We were maybe two minutes into the phone conversation and things quickly spiraled downwards. In my brief phone calls with my dad, he has always brought up the fact that he prays for me. He did so again yesterday and kept saying that he prayed for me during my college years and that he would continue to do so. This remark wasn't a stand alone comment, however, and he also added that I was old enough to take care of myself. There was an underlying current behind these words, and for the first time his words sounded hollow and off. I guess in the past whenever he mentioned that he prayed for me, it struck me as odd but i couldn't quite pinpoint it. When he repeated those words yesterday, I finally realized why his words left me uncomfortable: him saying he was praying for me was such a cop out answer and his way of justifying his absence in my life. It's not fair. It's such an easy way out: "Grace, I would rather not have a relationship with you because that requires sacrifice and an investment outside of myself. But Grace, don't worry. I'm praying for you." Nothing else. When he said those words, something inside me broke, and I called him out on it, saying "Dad, prayers are nice and all, but don't you want a relationship with me?" When I said those words, I immediately regretted saying them out loud. He snapped and started yelling at me, saying "This is why you called? Whenever you call or come here, you only complain or you come to ask me for something. You don't understand me. If this is why you called, don't bother to call me." And then he hung up on me.

I started to weep, and frantically dialed his number. He picked up and I sobbed into the phone, "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He continued to yell and I could not bear his words - I ended the conversation and turned off the phone. I realized at that moment that if relationships are tangible entities, the fragile cord that is between my dad and I broke during this interaction. Something broke, and I do not think I will be able to ever call him out of my own volition.

I ran downstairs crying and dry-heaving and ran outside to the garden out back. Blurred by my tears, I saw Cali and Emily run towards me and I found myself falling to the ground. My hands clenched and I became paralyzed from the bottom up and these dear sisters started to pray and pray over me. Cali started singing "set a fire" and kept singing the words over me and eventually whispered to me to sing the words. I half cried half sung the words and she gently said, "Grace, sing it louder." Peace overcame me and slowly, slowly the paralysis left my body.

I do not know what God is going to do - I know that I have to step away from this relationship with my dad for my own emotional health. I want to surrender everything to the Lord and ask him to take away bitterness and sorrow. I want the Lord to fill me with mercy towards my own father. I feel so broken.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me 

and I wake in the night at the least sound 

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, 

I go and lie down where the wood drake 

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. 

I come into the peace of wild things 

who do not tax their lives with forethought 

of grief. I come into the presence of still water. 

And I feel above me the day-blind stars 

waiting with their light. For a time 

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

-Wendell Berry