Skip to main content

It's About Who We Are, Not What We Do - The Glorious Table

Living just four blocks down the street from my best friend made it easy to share clothes, secrets, and families. We could be found within a close radius of her backyard pool most summer days. The rhythm of our summer days revolved around Gretchen’s dad’s third-shift work schedule. During the morning hours, the house needed to stay dark and quiet, so we picked peppermint leaves to chew, painted our nails, and read books. Not long after lunchtime, Mr. Liddell would wake up, which paved the way for our favorite summer activity: synchronized swimming routines.

We practiced and laughed until we felt ready for an audience. Gretchen’s dad always stopped mid-project to be amazed by our mildly in sync pool programs. He clapped and went back to work while we kept playing. His presence was as steady as the summer sun. He wasn’t merely my friend’s dad; he was a comfortable, expected constant in my life.


The familiarity born by all those shared moments made his cancer diagnosis particularly awful for me. I was desperate to be as real a best friend in the halls of the hospital as I had been poolside for my friend who was losing her dad. My seventeen-year-old self struggled to accomplish that while bearing the weight of my own goodbye to the man who felt like a second father to me.

My mom saw cracks forming in me and called in the support of my beloved youth pastor, who now lived hours away. He spoke words that enabled me to square my shoulders and breathe new life into my spirit...

Please join me at The Glorious Table to read to the end - these words have the power to breathe new life into you too!


Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Fight for Control - Day 3

Preschoolers' bodies contain a power that defies the laws of physics.  Moms of preschoolers know there is definitely something metaphysical going on in their homes.  It's also clear to Moms like me that every now and then, a special child comes along with whom the force is especially strong. I had a cute little 3-year-old boy who often left me slack-jawed and feeling outflanked.  His will was strong and it was aided and abetted by a deft use of words and logic.  Maybe you've encountered a kid like him.....you can recognize them by the iron glint in their eyes and the furrowed brows of their Mommas.  Maybe you've got one living under your own roof. Even though it felt like Trevor and I jockeyed for position forever...but it was really just a chunk of Trev's 3rd year.  Let me tell you, it was one INTENSE year, but it wasn't eternal.  Our toughest head-to-heads seemed to always happen on evenings Scott was at a late meeting and I was flying solo.  They start

We've Seen Their Faces!!

Ready to have your mind blown?   Have we got a referral story for you!  It's a like a book with a plot that sucks you in right from the start, leaving you gritty-eyed from endless "just-one-more-chapter" nights.  You mean to put the book down and sleep like a normal person...but then the last paragraph of each chapter makes your eyes go wide and steals all willpower except for the "page turning" kind.  One twist in the plot after another that you COULDN'T SEE COMING....twists that are the best satisfaction a plot could offer.  It's better than what you hoped was coming and leaves you amazed at the writer's craft.  Ever read a book like that?? I have.  I LOOOVE them.  The past few weeks have shown me that I SUPER LOOOOVE living that kind of plot! A good story has to start at the beginning.....Once upon a time, God stirred our hearts in an undeniable way and called us to respond to His orphaned children by making a few of them Floridas .  We g

My Funeral - Day 18

Some people might think it's morbid to think about your own funeral. It's not. It's actually smart.  "Begin with the End in Mind" is rule #2 in Stephen Covey's book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.  I want to be highly effective.  Beginning with the end of my life in mind means I need to think about my own funeral. What's closer to the end than your own funeral? I remember being at my Great-Grandma's funeral not too long after I became a Mom.  Her name was Minnie Merrow and she lived a long life.  She outlived almost all of her contemporaries.  Most people at her funeral were family - children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren.  The room was big and it was full.  Many people there I didn't even know but each was connected to my great-grandma. I only have a few personal memories of my grandma Minnie. She always kept chocolate chip cookies in her chest freezer and would let my sister and I eat all icy c