The number, 40, is a biblical one.
This is the number that had been used to signify important lengths of time. We hear of Jesus going off into the desert and fasting for 40 days and 40 nights. Similarly, 40 days passed from when Jesus was resurrected to the time when he ascended into Heaven. All of these have been outlined in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Acts in the bible.
Jesus isn't the only who fasted for 40 days. Moses did it. So did Elijah.
Then, we learn the Isrealites wandered for 40 YEARS in the desert.
This next event is not listed in the bible but this past February, my twin and I turned 40. I wasn't particularly excited by that milestone. 40 years is also how long I was able to have my Dad physically be here with me. Today is his birthday. All day, I've been reflecting on what this time last year was like. These early days of 2020 were filled with so much worry over Dad's health, much as the last days of 2019 were. In early February, at a surprise early birthday party for Mark and me, we all gathered together and saw how truly sick Dad was getting even then. It seems that things were all rapidly downhill after that second Saturday in February and then the arrival of COVID-19 a month later caused the world to start shutting down alongside Dad's slowing down body.
However, when I looked up the meaning of the number 40 just now, the Internet is telling me that 40 signifies new life, new growth, transformation, and/or a change from one great task to another great task. This must be true because the Internet is saying so, right? ;)
All joking aside, there have been so many changes over the last 12 months since Dad's last birthday. Even though he is no longer here with us, our faith tells us he does have new life with our Lord. I know our family has been forever changed and my hope is that each of his children have grown in our own ways whether that be spiritually or otherwise. There has definitely been transformation over this last year of "firsts" none of us wanted to experience but must nonetheless.
I've been doing a lot of thinking about purpose, vocation, & mission these days between the three different book studies I'm involved with, the first year experiences in Christian Higher Education research out of Texas, and conversations that keep popping up with folks. God seems to be trying to get something through to me with regard to vocation/purpose/mission but I can't quite put my finger on it just yet! I wonder what new task might be on the horizon?
Today was a task in and of itself. In the days leading up to this weekend, I felt a sense of dread and apprehension in not wanting to experience today's first. I had 40 years to celebrate Dad and to wish him a happy birthday. That is more than others have been able to experience with their own dads. It doesn't make today's quiet solitude of not being able to hear his voice or enjoy a bite of chocolate peanut butter cake with him any easier.
Love this image that was posted on my Dad's facebook by a dear family
friend today. My dad, the pilot, would have approved for sure! I hope
he's enjoying the view where he is now.
So, the days leading up to today were filled with lots of work but also a lot of calm and peace in spite of my trepidation at wondering how today would go. I woke to a glorious sunshiney morning that was quiet and productive as the rest of the house slept. I was able to help a local mom with transferring donations to a family who lost everything in a housefire. I was able to wear a patriotic shirt today just for Dad who sacrificed so much for the country he loved. I was able to pull my hair up into a messy bun that he often commented looked like how Mom used to look when she and Dad were dating. Maybe that is why I subconsciously picked the groovy 70s style hippy floral Jamberry pattern that I have on my nails this week. ;) I was able to begin a new book study today that is about the Prodigal Son and reflect on how Dad's story of a fractured family and childhood should have been enough to shatter any one yet it didn't break my Dad. I was able to spend time this week as I participated in another book study called, "In the Father's Love" that works to help the reader recognize she truly is a daughter of God and to rest in the fatherhood that comes with that as I mourn the loss of my physical father. I was able to watch Charlotte play with her Daddy in a way that always reminds me of my early years with my own dad this morning. I was able to breathe in the fresh air as I walked to church and remembered all the summer walks Mom, sometimes Charlotte, and I took in the months following Dad's passing. I was able to sit in shocked silence as Fr. Drake's words poured out during the homily starting with, "We're all children. I'm still a child. Yes, I'm a father but I'm still a child. I still have parents even if they aren't still here with me" as he went on to talk about how our actions can be child-like in the sense that we might not appreciate all God HAS done for us when focusing or fixating on something we don't want to be happening. Tonight's homily went straight to my heart. I'm still a daughter. I still have my father even if I can't see, hear, be, or hug him. He has put in his time. He fought the good fight. He deserves to be where he hopefully is now. All day, in spite of all that I was able to do, I couldn't help but think of how much he suffered in the last year of his life and especially in the last couple of weeks. Yet today is a celebration of his birth. A celebration of the start of a truly spectacular life perhaps for how ordinary (and not so ordinary) it was.
I was able to barely hold it together during the Communion Song as I heard a favorite hymn. "Be Not Afraid" has always been a reassuring song for me. I sing it to Charlotte sometimes when putting her down at night. Sometimes the song reminds me of Adam. Sometimes it makes me think of trying to be more trusting and recognizing God's hand in everything that happens even if I can't feel it or see it. Tonight, it made me think of all those times Dad led us so well as a family and leader of the family. However, the second verse is what really resonated with me tonight for many reasons:
Blessed are your poor
For the kingdom shall be theirs
Blessed are you that weep and mourn
For one day you shall laugh
And if wicked men insult and hate you all because of me
Blessed, blessed are you
What I was unable to do was to stop the tears from falling as I sat alone in the back of the church watching the intact families all around me. For once, I was thankful for the mask that hid the blotchy red face and tear stains as I saw the tall dads stooping down to pick up their toddlers. I saw the father who walked around jiggling an about to cry baby in his arms. I saw the tender look of love between a husband and wife as they glanced at one another. I watched as an elderly couple slowly shuffled to their pew. I observed as older siblings leaned over and reminded younger siblings to sit and stand throughout mass. I remembered the feeling of filling up a pew as a family of six as a child and the feelings of belonging and being tucked away into my family as a kid. I remembered the years of stifling laughter or sneaking slaps to my brothers when we were supposed to sit quietly in church yet a firm look from Dad would remind us to behave.
We used to be whole. Now we're a fraction. These days, I go to church by myself. Mom is alone when not with one of us kids. Nothing is the way it used to be.
Yet the verse from that song tonight reminds us that blessed are those who weep and mourn. One day we shall laugh again. Blessed are we if wicked men insult and hate us all because of our faith. This is particularly poignant for me as I stand on the threshold of secular research/work crossing over into more of a faith-based work in my research. Just this month alone saw the recordings of two presentations I gave in which I started to move my faith within my research to front and center. This semester in particular has led to multiple opportunities to allow me to blend my faith and work all the more so. It's a bit unnerving after operating out of work over here and faith over there but I feel part of my vocation and perhaps what might be the next big task God is asking of me is to blend the two within my research and writing so I'm going to try to not be afraid. I also know that Dad would 100% want me to move in this possible other direction so we shall see what comes next...In addition to mentally putting myself in a large field surrounded by trees in the brilliant sunshine today to try feel closer to where Dad is now, I also was able to enjoy his favorite ice cream from a local ice cream shoppe. I chose for tonight to be the night that we, as a family, would break in the bowls I had made for the three of us at a local pottery studio in December. Peanut Butter Overdose was always the flavor Dad got when he would visit and it fit nicely into my handmade bowl. ;) We didn't have the chocolate peanut butter cake today but we did have the chocolate/peanut butter ice cream and sang Happy Birthday instead.
I think Dad would have approved!
This is the video that was shared just prior to Dad's funeral by the funeral home. Liz, my sister-in-law, created a beautiful video with special songs. I love watching this and seeing Dad as a baby and then of course, seeing him with the grandkids. What a life!
