Day 303

Dads are their daughters' first loves.

I am convinced that nothing compares to the bond between a little girl scared of the monsters under the bed and the man willing to sleep on the flat, hard floor until she falls asleep, finally safe.

Well, that’s who my dad is.  The protector.  The quiet lion of the family.  And when the lion cries, oh, how ears of the daughter bleed in helplessness.

From 2,000 miles away, not much can be done.  I can’t hold him while the nurse injects him.  I can’t run my fingers through his silver hair.  I can’t even look into his pained blue eyes and reassure him that his life is safe.  From 2,000 miles away, my daughterly capabilities are limited.

In this moment, it occurs to me that God is following up on a lesson He began teaching me eight months ago when I was visiting my family.

It is not about me.

It is not about what I can or can’t do.

Because, ultimately, I can only do the same thing here that I can do there.

Sit.

And let God work.

Satan has not been kind to my family, ever.  A father whose childhood experience at church left him traumatized.  A mother whose parents were Catholic, but she can’t even utter the word ‘prayer’ without awkwardness.  A Paranoid Schizophrenic son who has episodes at the mention of God’s name.  And a daughter who swore away God as a child.

The enemy has been in my family a long time—but not longer than God, who has had His hand over us long before we even existed.  He who has given them a daughter and a sister willing to fight for them, has given them a hidden weapon of hope.

Game changer.  This is a game changer.

When I was little, when there was news of a kidnapping in the city, Dad sat me down, he said, “Jamie, if anyone ever tries to take you, you kick, scream, and fight.  If you let them take you, we will never see you again.  You have to fight.”

Well, Dad.  Here I am, fighting.  For you.

I’m fighting and my biggest weapon right now is the family I have here—the family that has held me while I’ve cried, prayed with me, and covered my father and family in prayers.  I’m experiencing family like never before, and courage like never before, through His love.

It’s not about me being 2,000 miles away.

It’s about being 2,000 miles away, and making every mile count, trusting God, and knowing that I can be there for my father through the Father and His children.

I can do more being farther away and creating an army to pray, than being at his bedside, stricken with panic.

My father has given me so much.  I’ve inherited his strength, his loyalty, and his compassion and so much more.  But my legacy to him will be this: the family I received when I accepted Christ, and the hope that is connected to them.

Our roles have switched.  Now I’m the one helping keep the monsters at bay.  But I’m not in it alone.  I have a Father who loves my father and He's the one watching over us both.  He's the Father of a greater family, and it’s this same family, standing beside me as brothers and sisters, praying continuously for a father they’ve never even met, giving me a high hope that his heart will be won for Christ and one day be part of the same family.

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people (Ephesians 1:18).

Thank you to anyone who has prayed for our family during this time.  I have seen so much of God in each of you and I cannot begin to tell you how much you all have blessed my life.  I know my parents are different because of it.  I’m just so thankful for all of you.