You're Worth It...

"Your worth it" he said to me on the phone, explaining why he was leaving a two week, out of the country, missions trip early.  I don't know if anyone has ever told you you're worth it, but those of you who haven't, know how much it means, how much those three little words can mean to a heart. I've never been told that before.

  I miscarried at 8 weeks, four days before he was to come home from Oaxaca. "When your mom told me, I immediately knew I needed to come home and be with my family" my dad said. As he spoke, we stumbled all over each other's words, talking at the same time. Me crying, I could hear him yearning to be home with his family, wishing to hug me through the phone.

I hate tender moments like that. I know, hate is a strong word, that's what my mom says, but honestly, I hate them. I feel vulnerable and with vulnerability, at least in my mined, comes shame and embarrassment, being this open with my heart is hard for me. Before my son Dennon was born,he made me this beautiful bassinet, he's an amazing carpenter. It rocked back and forth and was breathtaking, it evoked so much emotion in me, that I couldn't speak.  There's something about a father, daughter moment, that pains me. Brings me so much joy and hurt at the same time.

 My daughter heart is healing. It's been healing since I was eleven. That's when my dad, left to Arizona, he left mom, he left Teka, our dog, he left our house, he left me. When my mom married Bill, it was a second chance to feel loved. Worthy. Important. Like a daughter. However, even though my heart said it wanted that, it also had convinced me that I was too old to have a daddy. Though Bill and I have grown closer and he's been such an important person in my healing, growth, devotion to Jesus, I still keep him a safe distance away from my heart.

That day on the phone with him, talking over each other, crying, laughing, yearning to hold each other, something broke. As I was relaying the conversation to my mom, I felt like a giggly teen, like my love was coming home to see me and I was so excited. It was an odd feeling for me, but just as I was thinking about it, I was reminded that that's how God feels for me. He's my love coming home from something we all thought was more important, and should be more important, than me, than this situation. He's jumping on a plane at the break of dawn to race home and embrace his love, to hold me in his arms, and tell me everything is going to be alright. It's a sappy love story, but this heart, this little eleven year old girl heart wasn't looking for prince charming, it was looking for daddy to save the day, and he was, just like in the movies, he was coming home.

The first day I realized I was going to be miscarrying this baby, I asked the Lord to comfort me, I told him that I needed to feel him holding me. To send himself to me and hold me close in this scary and devastating moment. I couldn't feel him and I was so hurt. As I hung up the phone with Bill, I was reminded of that moment. I knew God was there, but I couldn't feel him. I couldn't envision him there because my daughter heart was closed off, so he sent me Bill.  The daddy who got up and onto a bus at 4:00am for a 6 hr drive. Who flew all day across the country to arrive home to me at 12:00am, just to hold me close, to comfort me, to tell me everything is going to be okay.

My savior, he died on a cross for me and though, that should be all I need, he still understood my pain and sent me Bill to be an example of how far a father will go, to be with, rescue, comfort, the ones he loves.