Happy birthday, my sweet Gwen.
One month after losing my precious Daddy, my little girl turns one. My own finite, limited and human understanding is perplexed and confused. To my own human understanding, my time with Dad seems too short. In my own human understanding, I realize even more how precious is my time with little Gwen. I, in my own understanding, can’t understand – that is the very reason I must trust the Lord, His timing, His mercy, and His hand.
I have been reminded of the brevity and uncertainty of life. I have also been reminded of how time is not measured in minutes and hours but rather love and service, beauty and commitment to an Almighty and all loving God.
I hurt. I yearn. I ache that my children will not get to know my own daddy. To be guided by his gentle wisdom. To be teased with his loving and “punny” sense of humor. To dig their little hands in the rich black earth along side his strong, steady hands. To marvel at the beauty, design and creativity God reveals in nature with him.
And yet. They do have a chance to know the truest part of him. The part that mattered above all else.
They get to know the same Jesus. They get to read the most wonderful story ever told – one that Dad told many, many times. They get to feel the same comfort and joy, strength and conviction that can only come from full submission, full commitment, full sacrifice to Jesus.
So while I mourn the physical presence of one of God’s great gifts to me, I also see that this isn’t a loss in the eternal sense. It is a gain.
Because, in our hands, we still hold the best gift ever given. Jesus. And nothing could be better than that.