Dear God,
I’m crying so hard right now. My dad cried on the phone—and he never cries. He usually tells me, “I’ve loved you since the day you took your first breath.”
But this time he said, “I will love you even when I’m gone.”
Why did he cry when he said that?
I called Shervy afterward. He doesn’t say much, but he said exactly what I needed. He said, “We don’t know what’s going on yet.” What he meant was: You don’t know the outcome, so have faith. There’s no need to cry yet. After that, the tears slowed, and I decided to write this moment down so I wouldn’t forget it.
My dad never cries. I don’t know how I would function without him. I call him every day—at least three times. Sometimes I think that’s why my mom feels less loved. She is loved… but there’s something about my dad that makes me feel deeply understood. He follows my thoughts quickly, doesn’t ask me to repeat myself, and never turns the conversation back to himself. He knows when I call, I’m often seeking his guidance.
I know there are so many tragedies in this world, but I can only carry so much at once. You know me, Lord. You already know my story, and You already know what to do. I believe You only give me what I can handle.
I say I won’t cry anymore, but I know I’m human. I will continue to have faith. That’s another thing my dad said:
“Let us have faith—that even when the gates of hell shake before us, we will not move in our faith.”
Please help me rest now. I need restoration. I need sleep.
Thank You, Jesus.
Amen.
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