Climb the Rope of Hope

I have to admit, I’m feeling a dew drop of sadness today. I was supposed to go to a RV show with friends, but decided to stay home. Why did I stay home? I miss my dad. It’s been almost 12 years and I still ache for him. I miss his love and his godly guidance (I’m crying as I write this post). I couldn’t go trudge in and out of memories. I couldn’t go up and down steps of the past. My heart couldn’t bear the weight of camper-sized flashbacks.

When I was growing up, we were a band of gypsies, as my dad called us. We traveled the highway and byways of America in our RV. We’d laugh and play games. We’d have conversations about God’s beauty. We’d bond as a family, as a God braided clan. That bond has made me grieve a hard grief. That closeness clamors my heart with the dad category of love. I don’t grieve on a daily basis anymore. The wounds of loss have healed. The scar is not as prevalent. But, the missing still resides. The missing still dews rosy teardrops.

A day like today, I’m having to climb the rope of hope. I got out of bed and felt drained. I knew my dad was on my heart. At that moment, I needed God to let down the rope. I needed to grab the strength of the taught trinity. I reached out and grasped God’s love. I reached out and embraced God’s peace. I started to climb. I started to climb the hope twine. Jesus is our hope. He is our Father and best of friends. Bring your sorrows to sweet and tender Him. “God, I need your help. I need your strength. I need your joy.”

When days are drip-dropping of dewy tears, grasp the hope rope and climb with strength. Our hope is in a God that is king of the universe. Our hope is in an unfailing friend. Our hope stands on his perpetual promises. God will never leave or forsake us. “God, I need you today and everyday.” Send down the rope of hope and I will climb with a boldness.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:13

Comments

I'm turning 30! Dad, I need you.

As I sit here by myself, with the electric fireplace glowing in the background, I think, “I can’t believe I’m going to be thirty next month.” March 16 th to be exact . I’m going to be a thirty year old woman like the woman acting in the Hallmark movie I’m watching. A new adventure awaits me as I stand atop the thirty year old mountain. As I overlook the adventurous summit, there is a pinnacle peak missing, my dad. I will be traveling emerald roads and picking fresh flowers without his guidance. What would he think of me now? Would he be proud of the woman I’m becoming? What godly words would he have spoken at this time in my life? My twenties stampeded by like a band of Mustangs over the plains of Montana. I remember turning twenty-one two seconds ago and taking a picture with my dad. Snap! Click! Memory day branded. That was the last year I would see my dad in pictures. ...

I Once Knew a Man

August 11th, 2008 will mark the 7th year anniversary of my dad's passing. The journey of grief has taken my family and I to many places, through the shadowy woods trying to tread towards the light and standing in the sunshine with God's warmth upon us. June 2013 was the year that my mom and I left our home in Michigan to be with my brother in Louisiana, who was pursuing a career in the oil field. We needed a fresh start, a new beginning, a start of a peaceful chapter. Michigan held many rooftop stamps (my dad owned his own roofing business) and camping "memory days". Sweet memories bloomed everywhere, amongst the country and in the suburbs. God decided that He wanted us to move to Houma, Louisiana, Cajun country, to build a new life. My dad was an original Southern man, born and raised in Central Louisiana, a little town called Beaver (nope, don't even look on a map, because you won't find it). Even though, I left my home in Michig...

Tap, Tap, Tap...Faith upon my Lap

This is a memory I’ve never blogged about. I love blogging because, I can write about feelings, love, faith, and somehow, lengthen my dad’s legacy. An imprint was left on my soul that spans the meadows of Cades Cove, which was my dad’s favorite vacation spot. On my heart, he tied a forever memory knot. . His faith also traversed the mountains of the misty Smokies. My dad’s surmountable trust in God bequeathed throughout “heartlands”. . One evening, gentle faithfulness nested in our townhome. My dad was in the end stages of his earthly life and was preparing his soul to go heavenly home. Even though, my dad wasn’t fully coherent due to morphine, he still comprehended God’s love. He still understood ounces of hope. I opened the creased pages of his coffee stained Bible. The word of God was torn and disheveled from years of usage. This was a Bible of a man after God’s own heart. . I opened to Hebrews… . Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about w...

Search This Blog