Quiet in His Love

Five months and one day ago, we held my dad's Celebration of Life. So much time has already gone by, and when I look to a future of days and months and years without my father, my heart nearly breaks. My father was a jokester, a challenger, a thinker, a pray-er, a servant, a comrade, a believer in Christ, and so much more. It would be impossible to capture all that was my dad here. Like all humans, my father was complex, unique, and knit together by the Creator of the Universe. Therefore, it would be an effort without end to capture him completely here, yet isn't that what I have set out to do... My dad set out to share his love and care with those he came in contact with, especially his immediate family. He hoped to minister to people staying in campgrounds. He hoped to buy an RV. He hoped to meet the needs of pastors at various churches through church-improvement projects. He had dreams, aspirations... He never stopped dreaming, seeking, searching for what God had for him to

Today marks five months since my dad's death. How is it possible that so much time has passed so quickly. In many ways, life looks different than it did before. It is full of additional challenges and heartaches. Tomorrow may be the last day that I will ever set foot in the house that my parents, my brother, and I moved into in January of 1984. I wasn't yet three-and-a-half years old when we moved in, but I spent many years there. I got married at twenty-four, so I spent over two decades of my life in that house. As of Wednesday, February 9th, it no longer belongs to my mother. Instead of the house being the Naumann house, as it has been for over 38 years, it will be the "Smith house" or the "Anderson house" or the "Davis house." It's just a house...I know. An ordinary house. I haven't lived there full-time for over fifteen years, yet it holds memories packed in almost every corner. Memories that cannot be put into a box and packed away or