The year after my mother died I couldn’t sleep. I would dread bedtime, dragging feet toward the inevitable. Empty hours stretched ahead of me and I couldn’t see my way toward the sunrise; the night was dark and dense and filled with loneliness.
I hated to be the only person awake in the house.
I remember sitting by my dad’s bedside and talking with him into the wee hours. Just rambling on and on about anything and nothing, but always punctuated by the regular question, “Dad, you’re still awake, right?”
And his heavy eyes would crack open in my direction and he’d sigh an exhausted “yes” and I’d keep on talking.
He and I have travelled miles since then.
They have not always been smooth.
They have been bumpy and hard with deep ruts and deeper misunderstandings over the years. Physical distance can both complicate and help the healing and for years I lived an ocean away.
I ran as hard and fast and far away as I could – from my mom’s death, from the quickie remarriage and divorce that followed, from the house that was no longer mine. I played ostrich and buried my head in college life and course work and crushes trying to rewrite my story in a way that read more romantically than the original.
But of course, at the end of the day, we are none of us the sole authors of our stories.
We can make our plans, but the LORD determines our steps. Proverbs 16:9.
The gravitational pull of the southern hemisphere kept me coming home and my father and I wrestled through a journey together that moved forward in fits and starts, stunted as it was by distance and our respective choices that the other couldn’t understand.
We must have hurt each other quite a bit during those years judging by how little of that time I choose to remember.
But someone was always writing our stories and making sense of our mistakes and moving us into second, third, fourth, fortieth chances to start over. And finally we began to take advantage of them, one slow conversation, one hot summer at a time.
I told my dad that sometimes when I cried I just needed him to let me, not be frustrated by his inability to fix me. He must have heard. Because I remember the night I was overcome with sadness and all he did was listen and make me tea.
We drink it together now, over a decade later, and when I look back over my shoulder I’m astounded to see how far we’ve come. I barely recognize either of us. My sons crawl all over him and listen to his stories of lion hunting with big believing eyes and I’m staggered by the gift of these best parts of him that I get to pass onto them.
If someone had shown me the road map between there and here I don’t know what I would have thought. Asked for a short cut, perhaps? But it seems to me that God enjoys the long way around.
The long, slow way around.
And when we’ve been climbing for years and find a moment like I have these past few weeks to stop in the lee of a rock to look back and down from where we’ve come, the view is simply staggering.
_______________________________________________
Want to keep up with this homecoming trip to South Africa? Sign up to get my posts emailed to your doorstep right here Or delivered to your reader of choice. Or just like us on Facebook.
Beautiful testimony of how God is shaping us through our circumstances and how He restores peace among the broken.
I needed that Proverb today. Thank you.
Cxx
So sweet! That heavy, uphill climb is worth it when we look over our shoulder from there to here. I love that our God is a restorer. That’s been on my mind lately as well. http://susielarsonblog.typepad.com/susie_larsons_blog/2011/07/dont-lose-heartguest-blogger-today.html
Oh how He brings beauty from ashes.
This was so beautifully written. And although my story is about reconciliation with my mother, I can relate to the redemption that God weaved in your life, especially when the grandchildren are involved. Blessings to you!
Oh. My. Goodness. — Can I ever relate! To the rocky road between daughters and dads, the family upheaval, the distance, the sleepless nights asking, “Are you still awake?”, and the sweet reconciliation. I did it all, just the exact details were different. I so get this. Honestly, I could have written it, just not so eloquently. Hugs to you from a girl who knows. Enjoying the long road with you….
http://everydayordinarydawnings.blogspot.com/2010/08/knowing-who-i.html
http://everydayordinarydawnings.blogspot.com/2010/08/way-god-used-apple-pie-today.html
What a wonderful journey and view! So nicely told!
This is so, so good Lisa-Jo!
” . . . God enjoys the long way around.
The long, slow way around.
And when we’ve been climbing for years and find a moment like I have these past few weeks to stop in the lee of a rock to look back and down from where we’ve come, the view is simply staggering.
You have used a metaphor here that speaks volumes to me, and more than 4 years in to a rather craggy climb, you reminded me to take a breather now and then to see how far we’ve come and to look at the view. Thank you so much!
I lost my Dad to a four month battle with cancer a year-and-a-half ago. The way you describe your relationship with your dad reminded me of mine. My dad worked a lot and was away much of my childhood. I remember looking forward to going to the airport on Fridays. As an adult our relationshipmwas kind ofmstrained and awkward, like I wasn’t sure where we fit together. After my then, husband of 12 years, walked away from my girls and me, he stepped right in and never once said, “I told you so”. After that (tragedy) I think we learned that our differences weren’t nearly as important as our need. I had the most amazing four months with him. A gift really. He said things to me that, I believe, most adult women would give their right arms to hear. I’m so touched by your post and am happy for you that your relationship with your dad is where it is. Dads and daughters can indeed be complicated. When my dad died my Heavenly Father reminded me that He is, always was, and always will be the perfect Dad.
Lisa-Jo, you inspire me on so many levels! I cry almost every time I read your words, they are always so touching! Thank you for sharing your beautiful spirit with the rest of us, we are so blessed. I have especially enjoyed reading about your trip to Africa. Thank you, thank you, thank you! p.s. I was watching PBS with my kiddo’s and the cartoon Arthur has a whole episode on Africa, your kids might enjoy it. I think I have seen Arthur on Netflix.
Ah, your testimony gives hope!
You’re right, and so I’ll endure on the long road, praying.
This is so touching to read – my relationship with my father has had bumps and bruises, but I know that he is one of my strongest allies. He and I butt heads because we are so much alike, and although our opinions and actions sometimes differ, at our cores we are the same. A wonderful reminder to accept, to cherish, to step back and to let love seep in to our relationships.
Time and God’s Grace can bring such healing…
Even from years of pain & abuse, resurrection is possible; forgiveness can bud into hope, and eventually blossom into new relationship.
Thanks for sharing. I hear you. And so much more.
“They have been bumpy and hard with deep ruts and deeper misunderstandings over the years.”
Thank you for these honest words, Lisa-Jo. I can so relate to the ups and downs and round-a-bouts navigated through a father/daughter relationship. I always, always, always wanted the short-cut, but it truly has been the long way around. Some days, still, I don’t understand, but I trust a God who does, and His is the only path I want to be on.
This was such a touching post. One that could be given to those who are dealing with a grieving teen. The road from loss in a bumpy one…you expressed it so well. Thank you.