Home for Christmas

At 44 I’m still a Daddy’s girl.  I LOVE my Dad!  I love his bright blue eyes that twinkle mischievously. I love his squeeze-the-breath-outta-ya hugs.  I love that he is allergic to technology and thinks Facebook is something you’d find on a shelf at the library. I love that he is the only person I know who’s been pulled over for driving too slow…twice.

I love that he lives simply (he is the poster child for all Minimalists!). I love that he values people over possessions and is willing to help anyone in need. I love that every Sunday for the last 25 years he’s called me just to say he loves me. I love that he is a quiet man of few words, but right below the surface is a boisterous laugh just waiting to fill the air. I love that he plays old hymns on his harmonica while two-stepping around the room.

I love his work ethic—work hard, and if something is worth doing, it's worth doing right. I love his interest in others—he doesn’t talk about himself, instead he asks questions to find out how you are doing! I love his gratitude – every person that has helped him on his journey from the hospital staff to the medical professionals, from his friends to his family--EVERYONE hears, “Thank you! You have a good day now.”

I love his humility—he never prays for healing or peace or comfort for himself, instead he prays that Jesus’ light will shine through him.  I love his faith and the light that emanates from him wherever he goes. I love the grace and strength he exhibits when life hands him lemons. I love that he loves Jesus with his whole heart. My Dad is just one of those salt-of-the-earth men who makes the world a better place.

Ten months ago my beautiful Dad was diagnosed with brain cancer.  While my response is to beg God to heal him, my Dad’s response is to praise God for each day he's given.

On December 23^rd Heaven opened its doors and called my Dad home…home for Christmas. And although my heart aches for the loss of such a man as he, I can’t imagine a better gift for my Dad than to celebrate Christmas with his beloved Savior.  Welcome home Dad, welcome home.

To all of our friends and family, thank you for walking with and praying for us over the last ten months. Letting go of my Dad has been so painful, and although his passing leaves a deep hole in our lives, God has used your prayers, support and encouragement to begin filling that hole with comfort, peace, and love.

The Christmas Spirit

I LOVE everything Christmas! The twinkling lights, the perfect trees, the fancy packages, cards from friends, Bing Crosby, peppermint mochas, and all the hustle and bustle of the season. Yep, I’m one of those crazy Christmas lovers that turns on the Christmas music in September and bribes my sweet husband with the promise of a “guy movie” if he’ll watch a Christmas movie with me…in July.

So imagine my disappointment when December comes around and the only hint that it IS Christmastime in our little corner of the world is our own Charlie Brown Christmas tree and a small display of holiday items for sale at the village store. There are no commercials telling us the must-haves of the season, no billboards counting down the shopping days, no nativity scenes in people’s yards or lights on their houses, no Christmas parties or gift exchanges, no cheerful “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!” greetings from our neighbors. No Christmas spirit. For a Christmas-lovin’ gal like me it just doesn’t FEEL like Christmas!

As I sit on my couch, drowning my disappointment in a hot peppermint mocha (because hot peppermint mochas make EVERYTHING better), a little jingle pops in my head, “Jesus is the reason for the season!” And then it hits me like a snowball in the face: if Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas without all the commercial trimmings and trappings then perhaps my heart has wandered away from truly believing that Jesus IS the reason for the season. Ouch. Not even my peppermint mocha can sweeten that spoonful of reality.

So this year, instead of mourning our Christmases past, I am working on letting go of all the things I hold on to as “Christmas” and letting God replace that hole with a deeper desire to know and honor Him all year long. After all, isn’t He the true Christmas spirit?