Lori Florida

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 ...

We ate steak at the fanciest place in town, me and my sister, our husbands, and our parents. Around the table, we joined Mom’s reminiscing. We retold our favorite stories of family vacations and holidays. We revealed some silly childhood secrets. And we listened to Mom’s stories from fifty years she and Dad spent together. One of our favorite stories is of the birthday Mom expected a diamond ring but went home from their swanky dinner with a shiny new set of hot rollers. Whenever Mom tells that story, instead of making fun of Dad for his slow-moving ways, she praises his serious, methodical decision making. She points to it as proof of his dependability. My mom told stories. I told stories. My sister told stories. Even our husbands had memories to share. We retold some of the stories Dad put on paper in his journal for us. The thing we missed most was Dad’s voice in the storytelling. Rather than telling the stories himself, he locked eyes on the teller and responded, “By golly, that ha...

My dad’s soul left for heaven four months, one day, and about fourteen hours ago and I haven’t dissolved into a pile of nothing yet. I’m more okay than my fear ever let me think was possible. I’ve weathered the scariest thing in my life and imagination better than I expected to because of the “ Lesson Learned ” God is teaching me right now. Lesson Learned: The security you found in your dad’s opinion of you was an important part of God’s plan, but not all of God’s plan. The things your dad gave you were a downpayment on the things God, your good Father is giving you now. Your dad carefully stewarded your self-worth and in ways invisible to you, has been carefully handing the baton back to God. More of how you see yourself is currently resting in how God sees you than you realized. This is why you are okay. God used one of my favorite Psalms to spell this out for me. God’s voice has been especially loud during miscarriages, disappointments, and fears through Psalm 103. I love that he br...

I had a recurring nightmare as a child. It woke me in the middle of the night and kept me awake worrying about whether it would fill my mind as soon as I closed my eyes. I thought I would outgrow it. I hoped my adult brain would be able to see things my child’s brain couldn’t and I would be free. Instead, a panicky fear of my Dad dying followed me into marriage and parenting. I’m 49 years old and until recently, the nightmare still showed up in various forms. This year my beloved Daddy died. I watched him take his last breath in front of me and imagined him arriving with the next in heaven. My whole life I’ve been clenched up around the fear that watching him die might break something inside of me and I couldn’t survive.  It didn’t happen. I’m more okay than I ever thought possible. My dad isn’t living anymore, he’s not here on earth for me to talk to or touch and I’m sitting upright and in my right mind. Today I’m amazed at my okayness. Finally being free of this fear I’ve lived ...

My parents were professional fans.  My Dad enjoys sports, but more than teams or hobbies, my Mom and he were fans of ME!   If I was doing it, they were interested.  I have countless memories of my Dad, in his suit and tie, having left work early, sitting in the bleachers to watch a JV cheerleader with his last name on her sweater.  I know now and I knew then, my Dad's not into cheerleading.  He didn't schedule his day to be free of late afternoon meetings in order to answer back, "We've got spirit, yes we do, we've got spirit, how 'bout you??!!"   My parents were and still are, into me. Along with the cheering, my parents gave me two juxtaposed confidences.  They seemed in opposition to each other.  If I hadn't lived it, I might not think these two things can happen at the same time, but I know they can because they did.  I'm not sure how  my parents did it, but I grew up certain of these two things: 1.  My parents were ...