And I Still Believe...

It's been one month since my dad died quite surprisingly, at least to me, and suddenly, a mere three days before 2017 began.

There are days I wake up and still feel as if he's here, or rather, at his home where I last saw him, spent time with him. It's not usually long before something reminds me that he isn't here anymore, not physically. The program from his funeral service. A text from one of my siblings about "thank you" cards that need to be sent, or more of my dad's clothing that needs to be boxed and donated. The "sound" that still lingers in my mind of my older sister's voice as she told me the devastating news.

Being honest, my faith was shaken as I went through the so-called typical stages of grief. I am still going through them.

In a video tribute I created about my dad to share with family and friends attending his Celebration of Life service—we don't do funerals, not in the traditional sense—I included an audio snippet from remarks my dad gave during a Christmas service just 10 years earlier. Explaining the significance of Jesus' birth and his name as mentioned in Isaiah, Immanuel, meaning "God is with us," my dad fervently declared:

"We possess the same Spirit, the same power, the same authority; we don't use it, but we possess it."

Over and over again, I replay my dad's words in my mind—throughout the day, as I drift off to sleep at night. They comfort me; they challenge me. So, while my dad didn't experience the manifestation of his healing as I had hoped—as I believe that he had also hoped before his mind became so confused by dementia—I choose to stand firm in what I believe.

I believe that all things are possible. I believe God never fails. I believe all of His promises are “yes” and “amen.” I believe life offers us second, and third, and hundredth chances. I  believe our bodies have built within them the capacity to heal themselves from any disease. I believe perfect, divine health is possible, and our birthright. I believe effortless abundance is possible. I believe that joy is our natural state of being. I believe my words have creative power; hence, I choose to use them judiciously. I believe that true faith really can move mountains and love can transform even the most hopeless situation. I believe that there are exceeding more wonders and possibilities in heaven and in earth than we can even begin to imagine or dream. I believe that I am, that every person on the planet is, powerful beyond measure and capable of achieving great things. I believe that I am, that we are divine beings with infinite potential. And I will continue to believe these things.

---

"...and to Him who is able above all things to do exceeding abundantly what we ask or think, according to the power that is working in us..." (Ephesians 3:20 - Young's Literal Translation)

All Survive the Night

Softly creeping in the dark;
quietly weeping at night.
 
Stars dance in the midnight blue sky,
moon sits watching, at night.
 
Silence reigns as weeping fades
at night.

Dawn arrives, birds arise.
All survive the night. 

Donna Denise © 1982 


I wrote the above as a teenager after spending a few hours gazing out my bedroom window at the moon one evening. It was written during what felt then like a rather dark, difficult period in my life and spoke to the belief I held deep within me that somehow I would get past it—that morning would come and with it renewed hope for more joyful experiences. And, if I'm honest, more joyful experiences did come.

Last night as I was headed back home after visiting with my mom, I paused to look up at the sky, for what reason I'm not entirely certain, and was awestruck by the beauty and majesty of the first full moon of this year. It loomed so large and bright in the sky I felt as if it were somehow close enough to reach without benefit of a rocket. The picture I took doesn't begin to capture what I saw as I stared up at the night's sky.

Yesterday marked two weeks since my dad died. I had spent the past three years helping to care for my dad and fighting along with him and for him against the hateful disease that was robbing him of his memories, his intellect, his physical strength, his vibrant personality, his joy, and even his faith. In the face of every dire diagnosis we received of his medical condition, his declining ability to manage his own personal care, and increasing loss of mental function and awareness, I clung to hope that things could, would turn around. My dad had taught me that to those who are willing to take a stand in faith—to be persistent and resolute about what you believe—miracles are not only possible, but they do happen.

Since my dad's death, I have felt lost, numb, confused, dazed, angry, heartbroken, and a host of other emotions I can't easily describe. Or perhaps, don't want to. I've also tried to just make peace with it. After all, what else can I do? Certainly can't change it.

Yet, as I stood admiring the moon last night, I began to experience a shift, albeit a subtle one, in my feelings. I felt an assurance that somehow, some way all would be well again, would feel well again, and that real peace would come one moment at a time.

Silence reigns as weeping fades at night. Dawn arrives, birds arise. All survive the night.

What I Learned from My Father's Life, and from His Death

Since my dad's death, a mere three days before 2017 began, I've been remembering all the many things he taught me, the many invaluable lessons he shared by example and by word. Even in his death, I was, am still learning from my dad.

Following are 10 of the most important lessons I've learned from my dad's life and his death:

1. Life can change really drastically in an instant—in a twinkling of an eye really. When you find a good thing, are gifted with a wonderful experience, hold on to it as tight as you can for as long as you can. Fully appreciate it, savor it, cherish it, and be grateful for it. 
2. Time spent with those you love is never wasted time. Be totally present with them.
3. People don’t always remember you for the things you do or the words that you say, but they always remember you because of the way you made them feel when they were in your presence.
4. Your past really does not have to define your future. My dad was an ordained minister as well as one of NSA's top research analyst during the 60s and 70s, owned his own home and several cars, established his own church, was an avid and proficient reader, and earned both a master's and doctorate degree (while in his late 70s). Not too bad for a black man raised by an illiterate single mom and his grandmother, who were living in extreme poverty in the southern U.S. during Jim Crow segregation.
5. It doesn't cost you anything to greet people with a smile and a "hello"—those you know and those you don't.
6. Treat everyone you encounter with kindness and respect because you never know who God will place along your path again to help you when you find yourself in need of help.
7. Knowledge and wisdom are among your greatest assets. Knowledge gives you awareness and understanding of a thing; wisdom guides you in how best to use the knowledge you have. Pursue them both relentlessly.
8. If you believe you have wronged someone, or believe someone has wronged you, it's on you to set things right by asking for forgiveness or giving it. Unforgiveness held in the heart eats away at the soul. (I'm still working on this one, daddy.)
9. Without a vision, the people perish. (He quoted this often. It's from Proverbs 29:18)
10. Be a living epistle—let the manner in which you daily live your life speak for you.