Irony Becomes Her

What I don't yet have

Tuesday evening, my dad will have been deceased for four months. Life "as usual" has been going on again for nearly as long -- for me.

My mom arrived back in my neck of the woods Friday night. She's staying in the condo where Dad first had his stroke and where they took their last real vacation together. I can and cannot imagine her feelings inhabiting the place without the life partner whose dream was to live here in the Inland Northwest. They worked hard together to make it quite a cozy place, and I know she looks forward to welcoming guests to it. But it hurts a little to think about her doing it alone.

There's no such thing as life "as usual" for her. "Usual" left her last March, and since then she has been carving out an unprecedented path of faith and new settings of servanthood to her Master. This is a sharp turn, but she's on the same road as before, "further up and further in" to an understanding of the grace she's received.

Daddy would have loved this weather; loved my 12k race results; loved to see my friendships here blossoming; loved to go to the wedding we'll attend at the end of this month; loved to help me with a few minor repairs in my home. I want him here for all those reasons.

But now he's loving Jesus with all of his fully perfected being. I want that even more, both for him and for me.

Who hopes for what she already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. (From Romans 8:24-25)

posted by Lynn @ 6:45 AM