Quiet in His Love

Today marks three months since the Celebration of Life for my father. My heart hurts. I often think of my father and an overwhelming sadness envelopes me. It can't be true, yet it is. The good, the bad, and the ugly of it. It's undeniable. The thing that has started to bother me more and more, recently, is that my memories already seem to be fading. How can memories of a man I was around for forty-one years already be fading? I don't want to lose the memories. Even if it...sometimes...often...always...hurts to remember. My father was a man worth remembering. Not just my father, but your father as well. And your mother. Your brother. Your sister. Your best friend. Your son. Your daughter. Your neighbor down the street. Your high school English teacher. You get the idea. Every life is worth remembering, honoring, commemorating.  My dad has a legacy in me, in my brother, in his grandchildren, in his cousin, in his friend, in a young man or two or four, and in so many countless

Has is really been three months since my dad went Home? One fourth of a year has already passed without my father present. My heart aches to think of it. Thanksgiving has passed, and Christmas is quickly approaching. How will I get through it? How will we forge ahead without my dad's presence at the table? I simply don't know. If it's anything like the last few months, we will plod forward one little step at a time. And, as is often the case, time will swiftly move by us, unaware of our sorrow and questions and wondering. My dad was a thinker, a dreamer, a jokester, an encourager, a servant, and so very much more. I am thankful that God answered my parents' prayers and gave them me to be their daughter. Not all my memories are fond ones, but the vast majority are. My father was a man of great integrity with a strong work ethic and a heart for others. He was a great example to many. He passed on knowledge to many. He debated Scripture and politics. He found ways to engag