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Our Sacred Right to be Offended

/ SaxophoneWife / Leave a comment

When I was a kid, it wasn’t cool to be offended. My friends and I didn’t call it being offended, but that’s what was happening. In our small world of childhood, if your feelings were hurt and you couldn’t accept an apology, you were the one who slunked away. You went back home and told your mom and tried to make her your ally, but she would just say, “Stop being silly, and go out and play.”

I guess we don’t need moms now, if we have God’s Word and the Holy Spirit. Still, it is hard for most of us to surrender what we consider our sacred right to be offended. Maybe, it would help us all to remember that we actually have no such right.

In fact, our sacred right, if we’re going to phrase it that way, is actually to overlook any and every offense.

When we take offense, we’re working against ourselves. We’re working against the Lord and His will for us. Christ has given us His life, His peace, His joy, His love—everything we have need of to live a life that blesses us and glorifies Him. What more could we want?

We have this amazing treasure, the life God has designed for us to live and thrive in, but instead of protecting it, we put it at risk over one, dumb offense.

We need to protect that precious treasure we have been given by God, that good life He desires for us to live. When offenses come, and they will come, we should say to the Deceiver, “You can’t touch this! I won’t let that offense destroy God’s will for my life.”

A wise man restrains his anger and overlooks insults. This is to his credit. Proverbs 19:11 (TPB)

❤️

Six Months

/ SaxophoneWife / Leave a comment

In the winter of Hannah’s 5th grade year, a fellow PTA mom invited me to join a Bible study she attended. Our church did not have a women’s Bible study, and I knew my spiritual life was in rough shape. Plus, I felt ashamed to not go. It was once a week, yet it was one of the hardest commitments I had ever made. Each time I walked into that church, I felt such shame. It was as if I was walking through the hallway naked. I cannot think of another time in my life I have ever felt so uncomfortable. You would think I’d have recognized this as evidence of my sinful heart, but I was deeply deceived. I had fully given myself over to vain and selfish pursuits.

This was in 2001. We lived in small town on the New England seacoast. I loved living there, and our little family had a very nice life. Doug earned a generous salary that afforded me a very comfortable, stay-at-home life doing whatever pleased me. That included volunteering at our daughter’s school.

I was an ambitious volunteer, eager to make a place for myself amongst the PTA moms. By the end of Hannah’s 4th grade year, I had proven myself enough to be elected Co-President. I was delighted, because I loved running the show, being a big fish in that tiny, little pond. I cannot believe now how much value I placed on something so insignificant, but I did. It was all about me. I said it was all about the children—especially my own—but I was deceiving myself.

As I write this now, I can see how the Enemy had gotten a hold of my heart. I had such good and sincere motives when it all began, but I was investing my talents and energy into something that was corrupt at its core. Why was I expecting a secular organization, fueled by greed, to do what was right for the children? Why was I expecting them to have integrity? Why was I trying to make them see the injustice of their priorities? And, why was I giving endless hours of my time to help everyone else’s children, while time with my own daughter was often compromised by those “important” civic meetings?

Yet, despite the fact the Holy Spirit was so faithful to shine the light of truth on that situation, I just kept pressing on. “I’ll just write one more editorial.”  “I’ll just come up with an even better fund-raiser.”  “I’ll just ask for one more meeting.” It didn’t matter what we were trying to do. My motives were good, and there was just enough success from one month to the next to keep me thinking it was all worth it, but my heart was wicked.

Then, something happened. Something very unexpected, that took me totally by surprise.

It was April. I sat in a circle with the other nice ladies in that Bible study, Bibles and folders in our lap. The leader of the group asked a question that hadn’t been in our study notes. She asked us to just say the first thing that came to mind, without analyzing it. You know how we tend to do that sometimes?

Now, before I share her question, I want to ask you to do the same. Don’t analyze the question. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

Her question was: “What would you do, if you knew for sure that Jesus Christ was coming (the Rapture of the church) in six months?”

The answer that came to my mind, before I could stop it, diffuse it, or edit it, shocked me to my core.

“I would support my husband’s ministry.”

What?! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing myself say, but I knew any other answer would be a bold face lie. Yet, didn’t I already support him? Hadn’t I encouraged him in everything he did for the Lord? After all, he wasn’t called to full-time ministry. He was just a church volunteer, playing his instrument, leading worship. How did I not support him?

Quick as a flash, my head played back the countless times in recent years that he’d given time to a PTA event, or stayed home with Hannah so I could go to a meeting. I thought of the many, many times he was the only father present at events, because I’d asked him to take a day off to help.

I honestly did not have to try to remember anything, because the flood of condemning memories just kept coming.

But, wasn’t he just very supportive? Wasn’t it good for him to help?

I hate to say this, but I just didn’t get it. I prayed a prayer of some description before the Bible study finished, committing myself, asking for help, blah, blah, blah. Then, I went home and went back to work. I talked myself right out of that Holy Spirit conviction.

June came. The Bible study had ended for the summer, and 5th grade was coming to an end, too. Hannah would soon be promoted to the junior high. PTA elections were held, and I was unanimously voted-in to continue my reign, and I made sure there would be no more co- in my title. I had been saddled with a dead weight co-president long enough. I wanted the title I deserved.

It’s true.

I was really that wicked, that puffed-up. I was shameless. I was good at my job, though. I got things done. Was any other mom willing to work as hard as I did? It was disgusting how much I worked, and disgusting how wicked I’d become, but I kept telling myself I was doing a good thing.

So, at the beginning of June my big production, the Volunteer Appreciation Banquet, was coming together beautifully. I’d done all the Teacher Appreciation Week gifts myself, and did the Volunteer Appreciation gifts myself, too. Food was arranged. Beautiful invitations had been designed by yours truly, and each was mailed in an envelope I’d addressed myself. The big event was just days away. I essentially had my crown on order for the coming year at the junior high. It had been the best year anyone could ever recall, and everyone told me so. The Superintendent and School Board respected me and consulted with me. Teachers appreciated me. Parents depended on me.

And, then it happened.

I woke up one lovely, warm, and sunny day and couldn’t speak. I could barely swallow. I had an extreme case of strep throat. I went to bed perfectly well, and woke-up sicker than I could ever remember being. I hadn’t been exposed to strep, and no one I knew could think of anyone they knew with strep—it’s not a common disease in June. Yet, I was sick, nonetheless. Stuck in bed. Speechless, powerless, and all alone.

I knew almost instantly that this was an act of God.

For almost two weeks, I sat in bed silent. I couldn’t even whisper. I had to turn everything over to my co-president. She’d call with questions, and I’d write the answers down for Doug to tell her for me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. And, I was not just speechless, I was sick. I had no strength, no will to get out of bed. The big event, the pièce de résistance I’d been planning for over a year, would go forward without me.

But, during that season of silence, God finally got me to stop and listen. And, He had one thing to tell me: “Come home.”

Within weeks, my husband’s was going to take a dramatic change. My purpose in his life was going to be turned upside down, and finally defined according biblical truth and not human tradition. I had no idea what was ahead of me, but God knew. And, He knew I was unprepared and ill-equipped. I had proudly and foolishly ignored His calls to repentance, awareness, and preparedness. I needed to be humbled, and I needed to come home in every way.

“Today, if you will hear His voice,
Do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion.” 
Hebrews 3:13-15 (NKJV)

God bless you all. ❤

Blogtober is HERE!

/ SaxophoneWife / 84 Comments

Hello, Fellow Bloggers!

I want to invite you all to join me for Blogtober 2021. What is Blogtober? It’s a blogging challenge. For me that has simply meant striving to blog every day. That is a big challenge for me, because it means…

  • …making time to write.
  • …choosing to write over doing something else.
  • …and, forcing myself not to focus on perfection, but on completion.

I think that last point is something any writer can appreciate. We know it’s never going to be perfect, but we always hope it can be better, right? Well, thanks to my imaginary world where perfect sentences flow into perfect paragraphs, I’m a better editor than a writer, and that bums me out.

Hence, Blogtober—a chance to give that editor a break and just enjoy communicating through the written word the way I did when editing meant turning an e into an a, like when I was a kid sending letters to my friends with S.W.A.K* scrawled across the back of the envelope. The only thing that mattered was getting that reply in the mail as fast as possible.

A FEW INSTRUCTIONS
Now, some folks who host Blogtobers come up with writing prompts for each day. I wouldn’t want anyone who joins this to feel obliged to write to a prompt, but sometimes a little inspiration is needed. So, I will post my version of writing prompts at the end.

Remember, if you’re just starting out, a blog post is what you decide a blog post is, whether it’s five words or 5,000. Read this post from a few weeks ago, if you need some encouragement: CLICK HERE Also, there is so much out there on how to blog, how to start a blog, writing advice, blog tips, Blogtober, etc. Do a little research. Keep it free, though. It doesn’t have to cost you anything to blog.

If you are going to join me in this effort, please comment below with your blog site. I will share your blogs throughout the month to make sure everyone has a chance to check out your work. Please, feel free to share the graphic above and invite other bloggers to join the challenge.

I guess that’s all there is to say. I really hope you’ll join me, even if you join late and even if you know you won’t be able to post daily. And, I really hope someone reading this will be inspired to launch their first blog, or revive their old blog this month. That would make me very excited!

Looking forward to reading lots of blogs this month!
❤

*S.W.A.K. is supposed to mean Sealed With A Kiss, but my friend Irma was very clever. She said it meant Sealed With A Knee. She also came up with the classic S.W.A.B.—Sealed With A Band-Aid, applying an actual Band-Aid to the envelope. I was so impressed. Irma, Misty, and I wrote each other all that summer. We looked forward to starting Jr. High together, but Misty and I ended up moving. She and I lost touch, but Irma and I wrote each other for a couple of years. They were the best!

Why Not Write a Blog?

/ SaxophoneWife / 5 Comments

I started blogging on Xanga in Septber 2006. It was a radical thing for me to do, but it was a season in my life when I desperately needed some kind of connection to other people. It was a Godsend in many ways.

Then, Fakebook invaded the blogosphere. It lured bloggers away, and silenced many voices. Writers abandoned blog posts (personal, meaningful, entertaining, substantial, reliable) for status updates (quips, activity reports, rants). Eventually, even those status updates diminished, because instead of an intimate audience that was seeking out your writing, we had an audience of virtual strangers that stalked and judged and offered nothing in exchange.

Sad days, indeed.

However, some of us kept blogging. And, some have been finding their way back! When a friend tagged me on Facebook with her latest blog post, I decided it was high time to pull this post out of my drafts folder and finally finish it.

Blogging isn’t for everyone, yet anyone can blog. It’s not about being a good writer—or even a writer at all. It’s just about sharing yourself, something you love or learned or lived through.

WHY BLOG?

Here are just a few reasons.

  • Self-expression is a good thing.
  • Community.
  • Someone wants (or needs) to read what you have to write.
  • It’s a good hobby.
  • If you don’t enjoy writing, it’s good practice.
  • Loved ones far away who will enjoy reading about your life—even the mundane things.
  • It’s a great way to watch yourself grow though the seasons of life.
  • No special skills required—not even good grammar, spelling, or punctuation.
  • It’s free.
  • There are basically no rules.
  • You have something to share.
  • You know something we don’t.
  • You’ve done things we’ll never get to do.
  • You live somewhere most people have never seen.
  • You want to “meet” like-minded people.
  • You like to talk.
  • You have an expertise you’d like to share.
  • You’re an older man or woman with wisdom younger folks need.
  • You’re going through a crisis, and need a safe place to vent.
  • You’re planning a big life change, and want to share your process.
  • You need to be seen, heard, believed.
  • You’re a social butterfly with limited places to spread your wings!
  • You can be anonymous.
  • Most social media just wants you to scroll and share content.
  • Independant thinkers can find a place of their own.
  • It’s a “room of your own.”
  • You might be really good, and end up with a book deal!
  • You can blog photos, if words aren’t your thing.
  • I want to read your blog!

I hope this post will encourage someone to start (or restart) a blog. There are many platform options. In fact, if you do blog, will you post your blog link in a comment, and share a word about the platform you use (a pro or con)? Share some reasons why you blog. Let’s help the curious find their place in the blogosphere!

Happy Blogging!
❤

P.S. When you launch your blog, be sure to send me the link! I will share some of my favorite blogs in an upcoming post, to help you find some inspiration.

Waiting Room

/ SaxophoneWife / 2 Comments

I think God builds waiting into His plan for our life. I think it might even be one of the holiest experiences we can have on earth.

  • I think of Moses waiting at the shore of the Red Sea for God to make a way.
  • I think of Ruth waiting to glean discards in the field.
  • I think of David waiting for his son to be healed.
  • I think of Esther waiting for the to appointed hour to enter the king’s chamber.
  • I think of Joshua waiting for the walls to fall.
  • I think of Hannah pleading with God, as she waited for a miracle.
  • I think of Elijah waiting for fire from Heaven.
  • I think of Sarah plotting her own way, instead of waiting for God’s promise.
  • I think of Daniel waiting for the lions to fall asleep.
  • I think of Mary suffering scorn, as she awaited her Savior’s birth.

At those times when we are given room to wait,  let’s be sure to not squander them. Let’s not regret that we have a waiting room to occupy, but let’s use it. Don’t plead with the Lord to end it, but recognize what a rare gift it is to be invited to wait on Him.

To wait with Him.

It is an exclusive opportunity that in one instant will end. The waiting will be over.

Until then, let’s attune our ear to His voice. Learn to listen. Learn His ways. Practice trusting Him.

Trust Him more.

Instead of filling our waiting room with busy work or mindlessness—entertainment, diversions, speculation—let’s spend it wisely. Rest on His promises. Trust in His presence. Pray. Worship. Seek.  Practice patience; remain faithful. Learn His comms.

Waiting on the Lord is never, ever in vain. 

❤ 

Psalm130_5

 

If President Trump Had Failed

/ SaxophoneWife / 1 Comment

We keep hearing how President Trump failed in his handling of this evil virus, and it’s making me weary.

For starters, the people who judge him the most harshly are the people who most harshly judged his mitigation efforts last Winter. Why aren’t they judging themselves, and their own failure to act? And, why does the media let them get away with it? The media is supposed to hold public voices accountable, yet for the sake of winning this election they remain blind, deaf, and dumb.

What truly galls me, though, is
that people have no imagination.

Frankly, it seems that most humans in politics hardly remember how to be human. They don’t remember that you aren’t supposed to point fingers or make false accusations, and they forget that everyone’s hindsight is 20/20 vision—including the President’s. I’m sure he sees now how wrong he was to every trust the World Health Organization or President Xi. Yet, he made the best decisions he could, and some of his decisions were very good. To suggest he failed in his handling of this global disaster is really to ignore the many things that he got right.

What truly galls me, though, is that people have no imagination. They do not see that if Trump had actually failed, things would look extremely different in our country today. They see the tragedy before us, and imagine what did happen in the United States was the worst case scenario. They imagine that there was a way to stop this evil virus from ever infecting even one person, but that our President “just didn’t care enough.”

Hindsight bias is a real thing, but it’s not a fair thing. We should recognize it and then stop and imagine what really could have happened, if Trump really had failed.

IF TRUMP HAD FAILED

  • If President Trump had “failed,” there would be no cutting edge therapies in hospitals—brand new medications and treatments being approved by the FDA and used in hospitals right now. These therapies wouldn’t exist, and hospitals would still be overrun with virus-sick patients, if President Trump had failed.
  • If President Trump had “failed,” liberal governors would not be criticizing him right now. They would not be publishing books, or plotting their next political campaign. They certainly would not be preparing for an appointment in a possible Biden Administration, either. However, they have the luxury of doing all of the above, because under President Trump’s Administration they were provided with all they needed to empty their hospitals and care for their citizens, so they are not exhausted from nine months of managing a state full of sick people and dead bodies.
  • If President Trump had “failed,” no one would be marching or protesting or rioting or demonstrating or whatever you wanna call it. No one. They would mourning be their dead, or sick in a makeshift hospital.
  • If President Trump had “failed,” at least half of the media that mocks him now would either be a rotting corpse on the outskirts of their city, or a pile of ashes in a mass grave.
  • If President Trump had “failed,” no one would be complaining about wearing (or not wearing) masks outside, because nobody would be going outside. The stench of dead bodies and the daily sanitation spraying would leave the air too noxious for anyone to breathe
  • If President Trump had “failed,” what we saw in Wuhan would have happened in every major city in our country. Citizens would have been locked in their apartment buildings, because there was no hope at all of caring for any of them.
  • If President Trump had “failed,” no one would be talking about the weight they’d gained during the lock-down, because those empty shelves in markets would still be empty. Temporary food rations would have lead to soup kitchens, and we would all be standing in bread lines.
  • If President Trump had “failed,” you would not know you were sick, until it was too late to cure you. Testing wouldn’t be available for the average Joe or Jill—and, certainly not at a drive-thru window. Plus, what would be the advantage of knowing, when hospitals couldn’t even treat you?
  • If President Trump had “failed,” no one would be talking about HCQ, because his deal with Modi for millions of doses would have never happened. HCQ would be the world’s most rare and priceless commodity.
  • If President Trump had “failed,” a deadly killer would still be roaming our streets, threatening our lives with every breath we take. Instead, that beast is being tamed by America’s scientific genius.
  • Finally, if President Trump had “failed,” his wearing or not wearing a mask would be the least of anyone’s concerns. In fact, he probably would be dead.

As I wrote above, in hindsight we all see with 20/20 vision. I’m sure there are things we would have all done differently, if we had known what was ahead of us this year. Personally, 2020 has been a year full of looking backwards, trying to gain some wisdom, and grow from past experiences. Yet, it’s also been a year of looking forward with more clarity than ever.

I hope against hope that Americans will one day look back at 2020 with 20/20 vision.

I wish our politicians and media bosses would do a little of both. I wish they would remember what it was like in February, when we were all starting to wonder what was really happening. President Trump returned from his trip to India the day after the CDC took it upon themselves to—without consulting him first—warn the nation to prepare for lock-downs. A wave of panic had already started to crest. The U.S.S. Panic had set sail into a perfect storm, without the Captain aboard. I remember his concerns being mocked by every Democrat leader in this country, yet he still boarded that ship mid-crest and showed he was in control. The media was hardly paying attention to the “Wuhan Flu” in January or early February, not to mention in October, November, or December of 2019. Yet, they look back and demand he give a reason for why he was not locking down our nation a year ago. It’s utter nonsense.

Of course, that doesn’t stop endless Trump haters from parroting their attacks. It’s shocking how ungrateful and arrogant people can be, but the motivation to use this evil virus to try to wrestle back the White House is just too great.

I don’t expect history books to ever give President Trump his due, but I hope against hope that Americans will one day look back at 2020 with 20/20 vision. I’m not saying the Administration did everything right, but I’m never going to hold them to a standard based on what we all know now. Instead, I will remind myself of what could have been, and be grateful President Trump didn’t fail.

❤

My Prayer for Hunter

/ SaxophoneWife / 2 Comments

Hunter Biden is a troubled man.

I cannot bear looking at his pictures. They are images of a dead man. They make me sad, and my heart hurts for him.

Don’t get me wrong. Criminal behavior must be prosecuted. Justice is always the right thing.

HOWEVER, this man’s need for Jesus is clear.

As I have been reading the news, I found an article that excerpted an email he wrote himself in 2018. He reminisces about going to mass as a child, and then talks about what happened at the mass for his brother.

He writes: “For the first time in my life [I] prayed to [not] just my dead mother and my dead sister but also to my dead brother. And for the first time in my [life, I] prayed for me-and I asked please let me be with you please let me know you love me please let me forget please let me come.”

I don’t know what was behind this email, and it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that this guy is not really any different than most of the men we’ve met through New Brothers Fellowship. He has a much higher profile, and much bigger budget than anyone I’ve ever met in or out of jail, but money and fame don’t make a bit of difference when it comes to Eternity. One day Hunter will stand before God. He will either be washed by the blood of Jesus, or not. The sin he has committed in this life will either be remembered no more, his record expunged, or it will be the evidence that seals his conviction and condemns him to eternal death.

So, I am going to pray for Hunter to be saved. I feel very sad for him. I am very angry at what he and his father have done, but that doesn’t keep me from being so sorry for him and caring for his spiritual need.

Below is my prayer for Hunter. Will you pray with me for him—at least this one time?

Dear Heavenly Father:
I am coming to You today on behalf of Hunter Biden. My heart is troubled for him, Lord, and that has to be because of You. So, I will lift him up and intercede on his behalf, because I know that You love him.

Lord, my first request is that You please protect this man from harm at the hand of others or himself. Please, protect him.

I also pray that somehow You would make a way for him to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ. Lord, I don’t think he is seeking redemption, but an escape. I pray instead he would have a divine encounter with truth. I pray he would be saved and delivered.

Lord, I cannot begin to understand his choices. I don’t want to know the things that have been done to him, or the things he has done to others. I don’t want to know the debauchery that has defined his life. He’s excelled at every sin on the list! He’s a perfect specimen of a life lived for self.

Yet, I know that his sin is not so different than mine, in that all sin separates us from You. We are who grade our sins against some imaginary scale, but all sin is equal at the Cross. All sin can be covered by Your precious blood. So, I pray for Hunter what I have prayed for many other men these past 16 years: please, stop him. Put an end to his running. Sit him a jail cell next to a New Brother, Lord. Let him be humbled, that pride broken, so that he will recognize his need for You. God, please, forgive him for what he has done. Bring him to justice, and bring him to salvation.

Oh, Lord. Please, give him one more chance to know You as his Lord and Savior.

In the precious name of Jesus I pray. Amen.

❤

A Time For Spiritual Warfare

/ SaxophoneWife / 2 Comments

I was thinking last night about the riots planned for Boston today. This upsets me so much. I love Boston, a city full of art and history, and it makes me sick to think of people vandalizing any if it. I hate what I have seen happening across America, and it makes me afraid to think of what’s coming—to Boston, or anywhere else. Every day, the violence and vandalism escalates. I don’t like where I see things going.

LAST NOVEMBER

Last night I remembered the Lord burdening my heart to pray for 2020. I took a lot of comfort in realizing that He knew what was coming, and not only was calling me to be pray in advance of this hellish year, but was calling up many other intercessors to pray, too.

Folks, we aren’t done with these protests and riots, but I’m already wondering, “What’s next?” Aren’t you? We really need to pray—but not only pray. We need to intercede. We need to stand in the gap.

There is a great conspiracy at play here, and I don’t mean the deep state or antifa. I’m talking about the Devil’s conspiracy against mankind.

THIS IS WAR

In the big picture, these riots and protest are insignificant. The real battle that we need to engage in is the one for souls. We need to recognize what Satan is doing. The only purpose of this rebellion is death—spiritual and physical death. As Christians, if we don’t care about the people who are losing their souls, it doesn’t matter what we may lose in this fight.

In other words, there should be no thing on this earth that we value more than the souls of those who do not know Christ. I hate what I see happening in my country. I hate all the evil and injustice I see. God forbid you are accused of committing a crime, without a million dollars in the bank for your defense. Good luck! Working in prison and aftercare ministry has been an education I never wanted, but I’m grateful to have received.

Yet, my cause cannot be earthly justice or equality. This is an oxymoron! Nothing on this earth will ever be just, because the prince of this world is Satan. My fight is not against the consequences of his reign, but for the victims of his tyranny.

Friends, this upheaval in America will soon pass. The terror will end, windows will be repaired, and rioters will go back home. Men and women seeking purpose, power, validation, or justice by marching—peacefully, or not—will still be seeking those same things, when these marches end.

THE REAL FIGHT CONTINUES

Don’t you recognize the desperation on the face of protestors today? It is no different from what we saw during Ferguson, Rodney King , or even the Watts riots. Satan hasn’t changed—his methods are the same, and the affect is, too. Those whom he torments will always be subject to fear, rage, and despair. It’s not cool, and asChristians we really need to recognize our call to stand in the gap for those who have been deceived by the Enemy and lured into his trap. He has an objective for these souls: eternal damnation.

Satan is at work here to bring Fear. Fear fuels the hatred and anger that lead to the hopeless desperation, and ultimate lawlessness. This is what I believe, spiritually speaking, when I think about this evil divide between humans.

IT IS TIME FOR SPIRITUAL WARFARE

This is my call to my brothers and sisters in Christ. Will you stand in the gap on behalf of these who are marching, protesting, and rioting? For the peaceful demonstrators, it may be easy to pray for them. However, those who are screaming profanities, shoving police officers, stealing, and destroying property need prayer, too.

In fact, I dare say prayer for the “bad guys” is the only way this all stops. The National Guard can stop behavior, but they cannot bring the healing balm of the Holy Spirit. They cannot bring peace to a heart full of hatred.

Church, I challenge you to look on these lawless ones with compassion and faith. FAITH! Isn’t God able? Isn’t He big enough? Yes, He is—our God is more than enough, and more than able. However, we have pray.

❤️

Remembering Daddy

/ SaxophoneWife / 3 Comments

My father passed away 34 years ago. As I think about him today, I remember the wonderful things he taught me. I remember his example. Daddy was a mystery I’ll be uncovering my entire life, but I’m so thankful for him and his forever impact on me and my world.

I can’t really speak to you, and I don’t pretend I can, but today I’m going to imagine this is a letter you’ll get to read.

You know, I’ve been missing you for most of my life, and that’s not going to change. It is a rare day that passes and you don’t come to mind.

Mommy had longer to cheer me on, but you were always my biggest fan—until Doug. I wish you two had met.

As little as we got to share, though, we had our moments. I have my memories…falling asleep on the couch on purpose, so you would have to carry me to bed…waiting to hear you come home…listening to you tell stories I didn’t understand, but still loved to hear…untying your shoes laces…learning to make your coffee….the rattle of ice in your glass…Orangina bottles…the way your presence filled any room…you kneeling at your seat before you preached (“What’s Daddy doing?” “He’s asking the Holy Spirit to anoint him, before he preaches.”)…tip-toeing through the house when you were napping (“Shhh. You’re father’s preaching tonight. He needs his rest.”)….wing tips and chess boards…just a few things that come to mind.

Thank you, Daddy, for treating me like I was great at everything I did, and could do anything I wanted. Thank you for being a kind man. Thank you for be a safe father. Thank you for teaching me to love America. Thank you for being such a generous person. Thank you for always bringing home surprises.

Thank you for all the things I never had to witness…vulgarity, drunkenness, abuse, violence, drug use, faithlessness, hopelessness, greed, perversion.

Thank you for never saying a bad word about my mother.

Thank you for loving movies and music and art. Thank you for writing me letters, and sending birthday cards. Con amor, Papi.

And, thank you for not being perfect. Thank you for failing over and over, and always trying to get back up. There are things about your life that make me so sad, but that’s one of the things your life taught me: choices have consequences. Family matters.

So, on this sad day, even with the good memories, I am sad. I’m sorry you left us so early, and I’m sorry you missed so much in life. I wish we could have known each other more, but I’ll see you again one day. Maybe, during the Millennium you can show me the Cuba you loved.

Rev. Ignacio Mosqueda, 1 February 1929 – 1 April 1986
Mommy & Daddy on their honeymoon, married 1 February 1955
I would love that.
❤