Hello, tender friends!
Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers out there. We celebrated at the lake during the day.
In the evening, we took my parents mini golfing.
My dad struggled and nearly lost his balance trying to retrieve his ball several times. When you’re a kid, you think your dad is the strongest man in the world. Sometimes I want to be a kid again, just for a few minutes.
But any time together on this side of heaven is also a gift. As hard as it is every day, I’d rather be here to witness my dad’s decline.
My dad had two lucid moments last week. He said, “I’d like to have another grandchild. Will you have another child?”
I couldn’t answer. I thought it’d be cool to tell my dad he’s going to be a grandfather again on Father’s Day. But I also knew it wouldn’t happen.
Maybe I’m wrong about everything I’ve believed the last 6 years. I have believed my blessing was just around the corner. I have heard the name of our unborn child. I have seen him in dreams. I have, at times, actually felt the presence of another child with me and Jacob and had to remind myself that there’s no one else there.
I remind myself that this guy is the greatest gift, and that not everyone gets this.
I don’t know where the line between faith and self-deception is. Maybe I’m walking it.
What if I’m wrong about the life I have believed for so long that God had promised me? I’ve been praying that God will release me from longing for something if it’s never going to happen.
This line by Robert Hass says it best: “Longing, we say, because desire is full of endless distances.”
The distances feel endless. The sadness feels bottomless. If you feel so inclined, join me in praying
Lord, let me let go of the life I thought I was promised if I was wrong. Let me walk so closely with you that none of it matters. Help me let go.
That’s all for today, tender friends. Thank you for stopping by, and thank you for sharing.
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