Second Hand Roses

This week I celebrated my 36th birthday setting the downhill swing of my thirties in motion.  In dealing with a bit of a pity party knowing I have not accomplished the things I had hoped at this milestone of my life, I made my husband the target for my self pity.  He will not be thrilled to find out he was my whipping boy, but, in all fairness and honesty, I have to lay it all on the table.

Now, I celebrated with a beautiful birthday weekend, one of the joys of a Monday birthday!  I enjoyed good music, fine art, delicious food, scrumptious cupcakes and pies, oh my!  However, one little thing kept rearing it's ugly head in an attempt to mar my whole weekend.  First, you must know I call myself a pseudo single mom because my husband is a restaurant manager.  For those of you unfamiliar with the ins and outs of this schedule, think high powered lawyer in big firm or emergency room doctor on call 24/7, without all the high salary perks, but with all the high powered headaches.  This weekend, my hubby was coming off a 12 day straight, open to close shift while a co-worker was on vacation, so there are no words to describe his weariness.  We were blessed to wake up Saturday morning to share a rare childless day since our children had been farmed out to various fun activities with family members.  I know what you are thinking, party time!  Romantic rendezvous!  No, I was determined my work weary husband was taking me out to an early birthday breakfast.  To sum it up tritely, I was being a bit of a brat.  What can I say, I am the baby of the family, I practically have a PhD in brattiness!  I had several conversations with my mom about the lack of celebratory fare provided by my less than thrilled over me turning one year older husband, the poor me's were running high.  Amidst this conversation, she reminded me of a story I have since dubbed, "Second Hand Roses". 

Half a lifetime ago, for me, my parents had resigned as directors of a home for troubled boys and my dad had taken a job at a major grocery chain to make available both income and health insurance to our family.  Many find through their employers, they receive certain unwritten "perks" within their job, this story begins with such a scenario.  It was coming up on a major holiday, to be honest, neither of us could remember which one.  It must have been Valentine's or Easter because the grocer for which my dad worked had ordered an abundance of roses.  Apparently, they had flooded the desire for the flower and there were many leftovers, to be exact, about 12 dozen.  My dad, using a perk of his job, loaded all these roses into white five gallon buckets and came home, wide smile on his face, bringing in buckets and buckets of roses to my mom. 

I know all the women out there are swooning right now.  You are probably creating a vision in your mind right now of a sweet, loving husband showering his bride with bundles and bundles of deep red roses.  I was there, this is a little bit of a stretch.  I would say one-third were on their deathbed, one-third were bruised and weary and one third were a day away from the latter two categories, these roses were by no means the cream of the crop.  I remember helping my mom by starting to remove the petals from the dying as a fresh potpourri of sorts.  We then removed the bruised petals from the weary and combined them to the still standing in whatever vases we had to create several bouquets of quite pretty red roses.  The work to accomplish this task was daunting and took most of a day to set right.  If you know my mom and her ability to wield an iron clad schedule at the drop of a hat, she was not amused.  I think she was so unamused that she viewed those roses not as a small blessing or as a great expression of my dad's love for her, but as a blow to what she meant to my dad.  Just to clarify, he adored her, you could see it in his eyes as he teased her to light her fiery side, through his daily prayers for her and his forty plus year commitment to her.  Those roses were his attempt to take a blessing and bestow it on his beloved wife, not this burden of plucking and preening second hand roses.

Late in the evening, when my hubby arrived home from another long work day, he held in his hand a gift and a beautiful card expressing his love for me.  He took time to procure my favorite perfume and even wrapped it in a gift bag complete with tissue paper, ladies, you know this is an accomplishment.  The whole weekend I spent my down time sulking over a botched birthday breakfast when my family and friends went out of their way to make me feel special and my husband was intently planning a special gift especially for me.  I share all this not to be a braggart or pass on my poor me's, but to share a much deeper lesson I learned, one brought about from the second hand roses. 

How many times has God given you a blessing you did not recognize because it did not come wrapped in the right package?  Many times I have put high hopes into my own mind, when my Heavenly Father had different plans for me.  I am guilty of acting like a spoiled brat to God because that bonus did not come through, I am not driving a luxury car yet, etc.  You can add your own title to that sob story in your own life, but if we are being honest, I bet we all have one.  Some of our prayers were for healing that came in death, release from captivity that ended in a rehab facility or finding true love after walking the dark valley of divorce.  God gave manna to the Israelites, they treated it like second hand roses.  God gave Hezekiah fifteen more years of life, he treated it like second hand roses.  God gave everyone past, present and future freedom from sin through the death of His only Son, and we treat such a great gift as second hand roses.  So, I guess the lesson I learned from my dad's roses and my brattiness, is this.  We are all given great gifts in our life, whether you are living in a million dollar home or a cardboard box, we only have to open our eyes to His blessings and recognize them as such.  Even in my dad's terminal illness, I find days where God's grace shined through.  As my father took his last breath while "This Little Light of Mine" played in the background gives me a constant reminder that God's light shines upon us even in the darkest hours of our lives.  God gave our family the most beautiful delicate red roses that day as He accepted my earthly father into His arms and said, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant".  Because, see, even though we may see His gifts as second hand roses, He is giving His best for us.

The Gift of His Presence

A year ago today I turned 35 years old, and a year ago today I would begin sharing the last month my father would have left of his life.  Little did I know the hen scratched words "I love you" on my birthday card would be the last one I shared with him.  It has taken one long year for me to digest the idea that I will not open the door to his office and find him typing out his Sunday school lesson or studying his Bible. As I begin this blog about these lessons I learned during mundane, everyday conversations with my dad, my first begins a very long time ago and comes full circle.

My dad, above all else, loved the Lord.  He was an ordained minister, raised in church, but truly began following Christ in his late 20's.  There is a back story to all of this that I will share, but today, suffice to say it was a long path there.  Sharing God's love with us, his four girls, occupied many conversations including the one I am sharing with you now.

I must have been four years old the first time I remember crawling up into my dad's lap and having this talk with him.  He would ask me if I knew who Jesus was and that he died for my sins.  He would ask me if I was ready to ask Him to live in my heart and I remember being very confused about what that meant and a little uncomfortable with the idea.  I would realize later that this was probably the still, small voice of my Saviour ushering me towards Him.  What I did not realize until much later was that by that simple act, my dad was showing me one of the deepest forms of love a parent can share with a child.  His concern was not for what new toy I wanted or what game I wanted to play in that moment, it was to provide a way for me to eternally have a father to whom I could always go.

My dad carried this tradition on with my daughter, who I am proud to say will see her Papa again someday.  However, my little guy, being a toddler when my dad left this world, did not get as many of these little talks with my dad.  One of the things that brought me great sadness was that my son would not get to know what a great man of God he was and how deeply he loved each of his grandchildren.  Little did I know how wrong I was.

When dad passed, I truly felt that my son would not even remember my dad, much less remember the man that he was.  I remember how my eyes welled with tears the first time he picked up a book my dad had written on salvation and carried it around calling it "Papa's book".  In a very simple conversation this Christmas season, my three year old son relayed seeing Papa in the sky, Papa telling him he could not come down here and telling me Papa had to fly away.  In yet another instance, I had downloaded a Bible story app for my daughter to use and instead my son has picked it up, answers the questions it asks correctly every time and thinks nothing of sharing it with other children.  It wasn't until a few of these things had happened that my mom shared something with me about my dad.  See, each time my son would go to their home, no matter how old he was, my dad picked him up in his lap, shared conversations with him and my mom would even hear him singing sweet hymns in my son's ear.

I have no doubt that my dad is sitting up in Heaven with both his earthly father and his Heavenly Father smiling proudly at how those small moments shared have carried on in my son's memory.  I have no doubt that God showed my dad that his time was coming to an end and gave provision to share with my son all the things I have loved about my dad.  And I guess that is the lesson I want to share, God gives provision for all your needs.  It may be that he prepared other people to fall in your path, for you to be late and avoid a catastrophe or just simply to allow your son to be innocent enough to see through the thin veil between here and Heaven to have conversations with his Papa.  My prayer today for all who venture onto my page is that you are given provision.  Whether it be compassion, strength, wisdom, or joy, I pray God meets you there and makes His presence known, that He pulls you into his lap and sings sweet words in your ear.  This gift of His presence is the best present anyone can receive.