Through

This has been a tough semester.  Looking through the archives, this seems to be a theme for the last several years.

My dad was arrested again, likely to serve the rest of his living days in prison.  In the meantime he is on house arrest.  I'm doing nearly twice the work for about half of the money.  I've dealt with some of the most frustrating, challenging students and student issues I've faced since I started this job seven years ago this semester.  One of my closest friends has essentially been out of the picture, dealing with his own issues; his absence hurts a lot.  Last week, one of my brother's closest friends from high school and college was sentenced to six months in jail and will be branded a sex offender for the rest of his life.  I'm still living in a space that's not my own, with 95% of my stuff in storage.  The estrangement in our family looms large with the stuff going on with my dad and with my first nephew on the way.

On the plus side, a former roommate got married a few weeks ago and one of my dearest friends got engaged last night.  And while I've been excited for them, it's hard to swing the emotional pendulum to the other side without collapsing into a puddle of tears.

It just feels like a whole lot -- and it is.  But God is sustaining me, and for that I'm so grateful.

As I've walked this road this semester, God has been showing me that I've just got to walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

I can't pretend it's not there or ignore it.

I can't wait it out or stare it down and expect things to magically change or resolve themselves.

I can't -- at least in this set of situations -- ask for deliverance and immediate teleportation to the other side.

I can't go around.

I must go through.

I must resolutely fix my eyes on Jesus and walk right through the middle of valley of the shadow of death.  I lean on His promises that His rod and staff will guide, comfort, and protect Me.  I take Him at His word when He says that He will ultimately give me beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for mourning.  I trust that He will use this story somehow, and that He will work all things together for good -- both mine and ultimately His.

I'm not at a place where I can speak in broad platitudes or offer universally applicable advice, but if you're facing things you have no idea how you'll make it through, keep going.  Walk through.  God is with you, and you will make it.  He will sustain you.

When you pass through the waters,

I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers,

they will not sweep over you.

When ou walk through the fire,

you will not be burned;

the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the Lord your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

Isaiah 43:2-3a

Why Blog?

Several days ago, I posted a link to Facebook about my dad.  I took it down almost immediately.  "Am I just begging for attention?  Would I really have these conversations with people in real life?"  As I second guessed myself, I took the post down and spent a good chunk of the day and this morning thinking and wondering to myself, "Why do you have this blog at all?  You realize it's public and that this is archived somewhere on the internet forever, even if you take it down, right?"

After thinking about why I blog, I came to three conclusions:

• I blog for me.  I blog so I can remember how I felt during some of the highs and lows of life.  I write so I can see how the hand of God has led and sustained me through both the good times and the bad.  I write so that I don't forget -- how far I've come, how much things have changed, and how God has been with me through each step of the way.  It's fair to say that this could be accomplished by simply keeping a private journal, but in some bizarre way knowing that a small handful of people will read this keeps me accountable to writing and recording life in a way that I wouldn't in a private journal.

• I blog because stories are important.  Positions are polarizing; opinions can be discounted and written off.  But people's stories -- their experiences and what they've lived though -- cannot be discounted or invalidated.  I have no idea who this story will help if anyone, but here I am putting my story out there.  I fail (oh man, do I fail!), but I have the courage to learn from my mistakes and keep showing up.  I won't let shame or embarrassment hold me down or keep my story in the dark.  I will show up -- even when it is hard -- and tell the truth.  My story is a part of who I am; I cannot separate it from my reality.  This is my story, and while it's hard and messy and full of mistakes, I choose to believe that in some way it matters so I will tell it. 

• I blog because our greatest ministry is likely to come out of our places of our deepest hurts.  I've been depressed.  I've tossed out my career and my life plan.  My dad has been to jail, twice.  All of these experiences have grown me in the empathy department, and have helped me to relate to others in a way that I couldn't prior to me experiencing them.  I write as a way for others to connect to me and get to know a bit of what's beneath the surface.  I will trust the Lord with the results of that.

Musings on a Broken Dad

I think I can say without a doubt that December 24, 2002 was the worst day of my life.  The year had been a tough one: finding out my dad had lived a secret life I knew nothing about for the first 21 years of my life, finding out he was arrested and ultimately sentenced to 6 months in jail, and ending up on academic probation my first semester of graduate school in part because it was hard and in part because I was so preoccupied and distracted from everything going on in my family.  The whole year was a tough one -- but without a doubt, the hardest day of my life was December 24, 2002.

The sting of learning I'd be on academic probation was still fresh.  The enormity of everything I'd learned about in my family's past still loomed large over me.  But on Christmas Eve as I waited to see my dad in his orange jumpsuit for 15 minutes, it was the lowest I have ever felt in my life.  I felt the embarrassment and shame of his crime.  I felt the crushing loss of innocence.  I felt the loss of everything I'd felt was the truth of my childhood, knowing it was a fake veneer that covered the truth of who my dad was.

As I held his Christmas gift -- gray sweats I'd bought from Walmart, the only jail-approved alternatives to the orange jumpsuit -- in my hands that day I wondered, "What has my life become?  Will it ever be normal again?"

Over time, things became more normal.  My dad was released from jail and, although he never matured into an emotionally present adult, I learned to live with it.  I went through counseling and spent lots of time with Jesus working to unravel and understand and make sense of my life.  I eventually believed that my dad's choices truly were his own and in no way were a reflection on my past and were not leading me to an inevitable future where I would repeat his mistakes.  Basically, I both came to terms with my past and realized that I could live a future that is fully aware of what had happened, yet not overshadowed or defined by it.  And that was freeing.

But every few years, it feels like something rips the band aid off of the wound that has been healing in my heart for years.  It stings and is a fresh reminder of the pain that is there.

This week my dad was rearrested -- this time for four felonies, not a misdemeanor.  This time, there is DNA evidence linking him to the crime.  This time -- if he pleads guilty and there's not a plea deal for something less serious -- we are talking years in prison, not months in jail.  And that's just all really hard to process, especially given that he's already 70 and his health is not great.  It's hard not to play that all out to some pretty obvious logical conclusions.

This week has been a fresh reminder of how broken my dad is and how hard all of this is.  It has been a fresh reminder of how much all of this hurts when it's right in your face.  At the same time, what I can say is that I am in a much better place to deal with it all this time.  I am surrounded by a great group of people who are my friends and who love me unconditionally.  I more fully understand that God uses ALL THINGS  -- even the shitty, heartbreaking things like this -- together for His good.

This has been the hardest week I've had in 4-5 years, but God has been faithful through it all.  I would appreciate your prayers for our family because this has been one hell of a week and this storm is likely to get a bit worse before it gets better.  And while it is very very fragile and just a dim flicker at this point, I do hold out hope that my dad will come to understand the both weight of his issues and that he will come to know and turn his issues over to Jesus.  I pray that even in his old age, he will experience some healing.  Please pray for our family; we need it.