time travel

At times someone will make a comment and I am immediately taken back 10 years. I find myself reliving moments of pain and anguish and grief from a time that I really don't want to experience over again. There are flashbacks of faces and places and tears. I am right back in that room where I said goodbye. My eyes water and I want my mommy. Or rather, my dad.

This morning a coworker shared with my that her father had been diagnosed with cancer yesterday. She was holding it together, but the sadness was there. Right underneath, rubbing her raw. I have been there. I know that rawness. I lived in that place for two years while my dad suffered with luekemia. I have danced the dance of faith, grief, pain, sorrow, prayer and release. I went through boxes of tissues and wore out my knees in communication with my heavenly Father to let me keep my earthly one. He eventually went on to heaven and I was left here to continue on.

It all came rushing right back this morning as I stood on the sidewalk talking with my hurting friend. I shared a little about my experience and told her I would stand by her in this season. They I wiped my eyes and tried to shove the memories back into the trunk so I could get on with my day. I plastered on a smile and opened car doors for little kids. But through it all today I will be thinking of my dad. Thinking of how he was my sun, my center, my gravity. Remembering how special he was and how he rocked me in his recliner three weeks before he died. Transported back to the moment when we said goodbye. I can still hear his voice on the phone.

It has been a long 10 years. I have graduated college, bought a car, gotten married and bought two houses, all without my dad. It seems strange that he has not been around for those decisions and events. Getting married was hard...that walk down the aisle. I am envious of brides who have that. I am envious of anyone with a great dad.

Maybe he was so great that the Lord already needed him in heaven. I like to think that. Maybe I was ready to be without his guidance. I know that without it, I have learned more about faith. I have learned more about trusting God in the moments when life gets hard. I have learned how to be close to God while letting go of other desires.

Comfort me today, Lord. Push the clouds away and let me see Your sun. Your Son. Wipe away my tears and let me rejoice in the years I had my dad. Let the warmth of the memories be a gentle embrace. Let me rest in You.