Processing Trauma

paris5The Paris hospital hallway probably wasn’t as long as I remember it being. In reality, it took us 30 seconds to walk down the hallway to my dad’s room. In my memory, that was a 20 minute walk. It was up a hill and through a wind storm and under a screaming sun. It was a hike incomparable to my long distance runs.

The smocks we had to wear, the paper gowns that pretended to keep out germs, took maybe 10 seconds to get on. They felt like a light bristle against my skin, not like a heavy weighted quilt that took five minutes to pull on, which is what seems to be in my memory. Continue reading

Mommy…

IMG_4874One of the worst parts of all this is watching my Mom. I’ve never seen two people more in love, more passionate about pursuing God together, than my parents. I’ve never seen a team that works so hard to share the love of God with every corner of the earth. I dream of a future where maybe, just maybe, I’ve found a love like this one. Of finding a love that endures a nightmare you couldn’t even imagine. I dream of finding a man like my Daddy, albeit maybe with one or two more tattoos.  Continue reading

Daddy…

picsssThere’s no where to start.

Mainly because it’s not over yet.

But we all know I process through words. And I’ll be d*nged if there isn’t more to process than I ever could have imagined. Let me start by saying this:

I have been given a glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Everywhere I turn someone is telling me they love me, they’re here for us, they are praying for my family, offering to help. Every minute I know my family is covered in prayer. Multiple times this week I’ve felt like I couldn’t continue. It was over. My Daddy was gone, I wouldn’t be able to continue. I don’t know how to do my taxes, I’ve never met someone who can hug me like him, I’m not married yet so who will walk me down the aisle? In the midst of God’s faithfulness, I’ve felt my faith failing. I’ve felt myself doubt promises of God’s goodness. Continue reading

Dear Daddy

13495349_10206687025921083_6915098289535630100_nWhen I was a kid we played a game called “Lion”. You would chase us around while we laughed and hid, wanting you to catch us so that you would tickle us until we screamed. Then you would ‘die’, falling to the ground with a huff. 

We’d relish in the moment of victory for hot second before we decided we wanted Daddy to chase us some more. I would be always sent by my oh so loving older sisters to wake you up (by jumping over your legs if anyone was wondering).

This is one of my favorite memories.

Moments of laughter and joy, being a kid with my protecting, fun Daddy.  Continue reading