Currency of Heaven ... thoughts of my Dad
Another jagged piece of my broken heart has been coming to the surface this week.
I remember the sickening feeling the week of Christmas when my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. I couldn't eat or sleep... so one night I just went over to the house and sat next to him. For some reason, seeing him there... looking the same... acting the same... it seemed to sooth me at the time. He and my mom had a peace about doctors and treatment... and were deeply connected through their unshakable faith. This past year was one of the sweetest of their marriage... what a beautiful gift from God.
But I do remember my dad's biggest point of concern. It was finances. He had no idea how he would ever be able to pay the medical bills since he didn't have health insurance ... and he expressed a deep regret for not having his 'affairs in order' at this point in his life. No health insurance. No life insurance. No savings. He definitely struggled with a sense of failure in those regards.
Like most families in the construction world... we were used to 'feast or famine'. My mom dealt graciously (most of the time) with the inconsistent highs and lows.
"We're going to Disney World!" ... "Oh gosh... the water just got turned off again."
I happened to benefit greatly from this swinging pendulum of prosperity as my dad had some really great jobs right around the time I got married. He was working hard and making good money... and when prosperity meets generosity ... you are forced to have a fairytale wedding. Not that I opposed it by any means... but my dad insisted on going all out.
Now, I'm sure, there is much wisdom in budgeting and saving... but that was not my dad's strength... and honestly, I felt embarrassed by it sometimes. I remember some of my friends working their butts off to pay for a broken down car... while I walked outside to giant red and green bows atop a shiny black Mercedes one Christmas Eve. I'm sure my dad bartered and did one or two side-jobs for that car... but it was one of his greatest joys... to give lavishly.
A couple of years after the Mercedes and the fairytale wedding... the economy took a downward spiral... people stopped building... and my dad didn't have that steady flow of work that he once had. He struggled with feeling inadequate and unable to provide. But a beautiful transformation was at work as I saw my dad as a GIVER... not because of the gifts... but simply because he GAVE.
I remember him bringing me a 'ove glove' pot holder to my house sometime after our first year of marriage. He must've been shopping with my mom... and picked up an extra for me. I still use it. I remember him handing me dinner mints from his pockets... remembering my favorites. I remember him bringing me a hot fudge cake from Shoney's the night Evangeline was born... and a Doumar's bar-b-que and limeade when he came to the hospital just hours after Elliot was born. Good food was definitely one of our love languages. He even sent a fruit basket to his nurses at the cancer center for Valentine's Day. He always gave what he had... in plenty and in want.
Because of my dad's example ... my eyes have shifted from the gifts... to the GIVER. My dad was no different in my eyes whether he dug a mint out of his pocket or bought me diamond earrings 'just because'. My dad was never one to budget and save... but I remember him bringing people home to stay with us when they didn't have a place to sleep that night. I remember him anonymously paying for stranger's meals at restaurants. I remember him giving his car to someone in need when I was too young to understand what a big deal that was. I remember him rushing out of the house one Christmas Eve to buy bikes for some kids in a family in my class at school... and staying up late making sure they were all put together.
In this world and culture we take great pride in 'having it together'. "Of course I have an emergency fund... and my will and burial funds are all in place."
My dad felt real regret at the time of his diagnosis. Perhaps embarrassed... overwhelmed. Then... as a true 'perfectionist procrastinator'... he felt a sense of relief when the treatment 'went well'... and he was assured by his doctors that he had 'many good years ahead'.
I'm sure he felt like he had a bit more time to get things together. "I'll get around to it."
But things shifted quickly... too quickly to even say goodbye... and his responsibilities in this world no longer exist.
Thrown into a world of funeral homes and cemetery plots... the responsibility now rested on my mom and 'us kids'. And as fate would have it... things had been quite 'famine-like' recently for David and I since we have a non-existent emergency fund... and have had quite a few ER visits over the past few months (stitches in chin(Birdie), obliterated eardrum (again, Birdie), kidney stones (David... still in limbo, lol)... and gallstone and intestinal pain (Elliot). Seriously. Throw one or two 'unwise decisions' and you're broke. I digress... apologies all around.
In past times we could've swooped in and helped out with expenses... but God's ways are above ours... and he had a different plan. I've learned that HIS plans usually involve a brief (or not so brief) time of panic... followed by angry prayers... then some surrender and trust... then... something beautiful.
This brings us to the funeral home... the day after my dad died. Here we sit... my mom and sister, Rebekah, David and I... and Jacob and Joanna.
We walk through everything that 'planning a funeral' entails. The director would ask... "So, which option do you want?" ... we would side glance at each other... then politely ask for something less 'exquisite'. "No thanks, we don't need flowers on the casket."
At one point, my mom expressed dismay that we can't just have a family plot in the back yard. (this was followed by a long, concerning silence...) then the director explaining that's 'illegal'... followed by my mom's sideways smirk... "Obviously we can't do that. I'm just saying."
In reality, the casket for my dad happened to be perfect for him... plain, simple, humble.
Next... the director tried to wrap things up. "So, the full payment is due at the time you sign the contract..."
We all look at each other... Bek speaks up... "Which is...???" "Today." The director responds. "You don't do payment plans?", I chime in. "No... unfortunately not." he responds sympathetically. (awkward silence).
I'd like to think we 'played it cool', but in reality we all started scrambling for our phones to check our bank accounts. You know... like a frantic scene from 'Let's make a deal"...
(I imagine the announcer with his unusually thin, silver microphone... "WHO HAS $7.58 IN THEIR BANK ACCOUNT???!!!The first one to pull up their account and show us how little you have is the WINNER.)
Let's just say... we would've all tied for first place.
The director senses our hesitation and 'gives us a minute' to collect ourselves. Now, here's the best thing about my family. When we find ourselves in desperate situations... our first instinct is always to find it absolutely HYSTERICAL. Gut rolling, slap your knees hysterical. I think Bek even jumped out of her seat and did an impromptu comedy routine and improv bit.
After we pulled ourselves together... we made a phone call to our fiscally responsible family member... arranged to pay the next day. And all was well...
Wait... the cemetery and burial isn't covered in the 'funeral home package deal'? NO.
And this is the brokenness that my Dad taught me to be so comfortable in. Because HIS power is made PERFECT in our weakness. ( II Corinthians 12:9).
My dad certainly did not prepare financially for his death. He did MORE than that... he paid for it with the currency of heaven itself. More impressing than any plans made on this earth...
Every act of kindness... every act of generosity throughout his 61 years started flooding back to my family. He provided for us through the lives' he touched... and through the generosity he showed others. We stood in the ocean of grief and sadness and felt wave after wave of God's love crashing over us... again and again. It was overwhelming...
Someone offered us free burial plots (which we weren't able to use... but the kindness of such a offer brought us to tears.) Another friend rushed to meet us as we left to make arrangements at the cemetery and gave us $1,000 in a plain white envelope. In the days after... people just started showing up at my mom and dad's house... they would visit and reminisce... and almost every card left to my mom had a generous offering in it. From $20... to $5,000... people GAVE... because that is how they remembered and honored my DAD. In death and legacy... my dad provided for us.
My sister set up a 'go fund me' page to help with all the expenses that we'll be dealing with for quite some time... and as I've looked at it and read through the names of those of you who have given to us... it brings me to tears. Thank you for giving. Thank you for honoring a great man in this way. It's truly humbling... and it's a tangible extension of your love for us and for my dad.
It's a beautiful thing to be broken... it creates room for the miraculous.
I remember the sickening feeling the week of Christmas when my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. I couldn't eat or sleep... so one night I just went over to the house and sat next to him. For some reason, seeing him there... looking the same... acting the same... it seemed to sooth me at the time. He and my mom had a peace about doctors and treatment... and were deeply connected through their unshakable faith. This past year was one of the sweetest of their marriage... what a beautiful gift from God.
But I do remember my dad's biggest point of concern. It was finances. He had no idea how he would ever be able to pay the medical bills since he didn't have health insurance ... and he expressed a deep regret for not having his 'affairs in order' at this point in his life. No health insurance. No life insurance. No savings. He definitely struggled with a sense of failure in those regards.
Like most families in the construction world... we were used to 'feast or famine'. My mom dealt graciously (most of the time) with the inconsistent highs and lows.
"We're going to Disney World!" ... "Oh gosh... the water just got turned off again."
I happened to benefit greatly from this swinging pendulum of prosperity as my dad had some really great jobs right around the time I got married. He was working hard and making good money... and when prosperity meets generosity ... you are forced to have a fairytale wedding. Not that I opposed it by any means... but my dad insisted on going all out.
Now, I'm sure, there is much wisdom in budgeting and saving... but that was not my dad's strength... and honestly, I felt embarrassed by it sometimes. I remember some of my friends working their butts off to pay for a broken down car... while I walked outside to giant red and green bows atop a shiny black Mercedes one Christmas Eve. I'm sure my dad bartered and did one or two side-jobs for that car... but it was one of his greatest joys... to give lavishly.
A couple of years after the Mercedes and the fairytale wedding... the economy took a downward spiral... people stopped building... and my dad didn't have that steady flow of work that he once had. He struggled with feeling inadequate and unable to provide. But a beautiful transformation was at work as I saw my dad as a GIVER... not because of the gifts... but simply because he GAVE.
I remember him bringing me a 'ove glove' pot holder to my house sometime after our first year of marriage. He must've been shopping with my mom... and picked up an extra for me. I still use it. I remember him handing me dinner mints from his pockets... remembering my favorites. I remember him bringing me a hot fudge cake from Shoney's the night Evangeline was born... and a Doumar's bar-b-que and limeade when he came to the hospital just hours after Elliot was born. Good food was definitely one of our love languages. He even sent a fruit basket to his nurses at the cancer center for Valentine's Day. He always gave what he had... in plenty and in want.
Because of my dad's example ... my eyes have shifted from the gifts... to the GIVER. My dad was no different in my eyes whether he dug a mint out of his pocket or bought me diamond earrings 'just because'. My dad was never one to budget and save... but I remember him bringing people home to stay with us when they didn't have a place to sleep that night. I remember him anonymously paying for stranger's meals at restaurants. I remember him giving his car to someone in need when I was too young to understand what a big deal that was. I remember him rushing out of the house one Christmas Eve to buy bikes for some kids in a family in my class at school... and staying up late making sure they were all put together.
In this world and culture we take great pride in 'having it together'. "Of course I have an emergency fund... and my will and burial funds are all in place."
My dad felt real regret at the time of his diagnosis. Perhaps embarrassed... overwhelmed. Then... as a true 'perfectionist procrastinator'... he felt a sense of relief when the treatment 'went well'... and he was assured by his doctors that he had 'many good years ahead'.
I'm sure he felt like he had a bit more time to get things together. "I'll get around to it."
But things shifted quickly... too quickly to even say goodbye... and his responsibilities in this world no longer exist.
Thrown into a world of funeral homes and cemetery plots... the responsibility now rested on my mom and 'us kids'. And as fate would have it... things had been quite 'famine-like' recently for David and I since we have a non-existent emergency fund... and have had quite a few ER visits over the past few months (stitches in chin(Birdie), obliterated eardrum (again, Birdie), kidney stones (David... still in limbo, lol)... and gallstone and intestinal pain (Elliot). Seriously. Throw one or two 'unwise decisions' and you're broke. I digress... apologies all around.
In past times we could've swooped in and helped out with expenses... but God's ways are above ours... and he had a different plan. I've learned that HIS plans usually involve a brief (or not so brief) time of panic... followed by angry prayers... then some surrender and trust... then... something beautiful.
This brings us to the funeral home... the day after my dad died. Here we sit... my mom and sister, Rebekah, David and I... and Jacob and Joanna.
We walk through everything that 'planning a funeral' entails. The director would ask... "So, which option do you want?" ... we would side glance at each other... then politely ask for something less 'exquisite'. "No thanks, we don't need flowers on the casket."
At one point, my mom expressed dismay that we can't just have a family plot in the back yard. (this was followed by a long, concerning silence...) then the director explaining that's 'illegal'... followed by my mom's sideways smirk... "Obviously we can't do that. I'm just saying."
In reality, the casket for my dad happened to be perfect for him... plain, simple, humble.
Next... the director tried to wrap things up. "So, the full payment is due at the time you sign the contract..."
We all look at each other... Bek speaks up... "Which is...???" "Today." The director responds. "You don't do payment plans?", I chime in. "No... unfortunately not." he responds sympathetically. (awkward silence).
I'd like to think we 'played it cool', but in reality we all started scrambling for our phones to check our bank accounts. You know... like a frantic scene from 'Let's make a deal"...
(I imagine the announcer with his unusually thin, silver microphone... "WHO HAS $7.58 IN THEIR BANK ACCOUNT???!!!The first one to pull up their account and show us how little you have is the WINNER.)
Let's just say... we would've all tied for first place.
The director senses our hesitation and 'gives us a minute' to collect ourselves. Now, here's the best thing about my family. When we find ourselves in desperate situations... our first instinct is always to find it absolutely HYSTERICAL. Gut rolling, slap your knees hysterical. I think Bek even jumped out of her seat and did an impromptu comedy routine and improv bit.
After we pulled ourselves together... we made a phone call to our fiscally responsible family member... arranged to pay the next day. And all was well...
Wait... the cemetery and burial isn't covered in the 'funeral home package deal'? NO.
And this is the brokenness that my Dad taught me to be so comfortable in. Because HIS power is made PERFECT in our weakness. ( II Corinthians 12:9).
My dad certainly did not prepare financially for his death. He did MORE than that... he paid for it with the currency of heaven itself. More impressing than any plans made on this earth...
Every act of kindness... every act of generosity throughout his 61 years started flooding back to my family. He provided for us through the lives' he touched... and through the generosity he showed others. We stood in the ocean of grief and sadness and felt wave after wave of God's love crashing over us... again and again. It was overwhelming...
Someone offered us free burial plots (which we weren't able to use... but the kindness of such a offer brought us to tears.) Another friend rushed to meet us as we left to make arrangements at the cemetery and gave us $1,000 in a plain white envelope. In the days after... people just started showing up at my mom and dad's house... they would visit and reminisce... and almost every card left to my mom had a generous offering in it. From $20... to $5,000... people GAVE... because that is how they remembered and honored my DAD. In death and legacy... my dad provided for us.
My sister set up a 'go fund me' page to help with all the expenses that we'll be dealing with for quite some time... and as I've looked at it and read through the names of those of you who have given to us... it brings me to tears. Thank you for giving. Thank you for honoring a great man in this way. It's truly humbling... and it's a tangible extension of your love for us and for my dad.
It's a beautiful thing to be broken... it creates room for the miraculous.
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