Love is...

It's 11:43 p.m.  Sanj and I went out to dinner with friends and then I went and watched his hockey game.

As I look out of my bathroom window, I see this man, exhausted from shoveling the rink this afternoon for three hours... back out there.

The truck's headlights are on and shining the light needed for him to flood the rink.

Is that love or what?

This is the kind of father my children have. 

Unfortunately, too many times they don't appreciate all he does.

Love is braving the  -13 degree weather, untangling the hose and standing there at midnight flooding the rink so the boys will have smooth ice in the morning.

Love is coaching 3+  hockey teams so the boys would have a team to play on.

Love is getting them up, making a fun tradition out of being on the ice for a 7 a.m. practice.

Love is  breaking ones back to teach the youngest to skate and have a love for hockey.

Love is working his butt off to be able to pay for 5 hockey playing sons.

Love is sponsoring a team, making awesome jerseys for the team.
Love is lugging stinky hockey bags, water bottles, jerseys, pucks, sticks,etc week after week to rink after rink.

Love is a hockey dad.

The Phone Call....

I am not sure if I will post this... but I am writing because right now this is the thoughts of an adult who just got off the phone with a dad that abused her family his whole life.

I have hands that are shaking violently. My heart is pounding and skipping I feel like I may have a heart attack.

My legs are weak... I had to sit down while on the phone just to support myself.

He called. I see the number. I groan. I pick up. I can't avoid it. He is persistent.

I hear his voice. I feel emotions that are indescribable.

He starts talking...my stomach is churning.

He talks and talks. He is the same. He is wanting me to come to the dedication. He is saying that this may be his last time when we are all together. He wants to talk about what he wants when he dies.

He wants me to be the older sister and forgive. He doesn't understand there isn't a grudge. Just fear.

He wants to be buried in Maryland. He names my uncles and aunts that are buried there. He never made attempts to get along with them ever. He always stirred the pot so my mom was kept at a distance from her family and friends. Now he is worried about being buried alone?

Weird.

He talks about the same policy he has. (Not sure if this is for real). Whose name should he put for the benefactor? Not me. No thanks.

Then he talks about family that is struggling. He talks about bad behaviour (yet I am amazed that he is calling the behaviour... such a hitting a 3 year old, bad... since he did it time and again since I was one!)

He asks me to come to the dedication. Pray about it... He says. He says he has people praying for me. Um... not sure he gets it.

Then I say (not sure where I got the strength, well yes I am)... "Dad, I am not coming. I do not feel safe. I do not want to expose my children to any of it. I don't know what will happen. I am not willing to put myself or them at risk." (Thank you, Jesus for strength).

(When the three siblings are together, something always happens. Every time. So maybe this time it will be different. My absence may be a gift).

He says... (I can't believe he said this) "I won't let anything happen. I will call 911 if I have to."

OK... you must get the picture. He asks for money for another life insurance policy. Money he will leave for us. He asks for $30 so he can leave us $2000.

Weird.

He talks about my mom. But then says, "I don't want to talk about her."

Weird.

This weekend the boys and I are away. We are at a hockey tournament.

Far and away.

My hands are still shaking.

As I hung up, I feel overwhelmed with emotions of sadness. When will it stop? I feel bad also because I know I have disappointed him. Again.

Weird.

This is from a daughter that has lived with abuse her life after talking to her father.

Daddy

This is a picture of my dad. I can't help but stare at this picture. I see my past when I look into his face. I see his smile, I see his expressions I knew so well... so long ago. Now I see him I feel sad. I feel sad that he has to live the last years alone. I feel sad for the ending of his life story.

He looks so much like his mother. Am I in that face? Do you see me?

I found a copy of a "book" I wrote 10 years ago. It is pretty much what I would write now. Except the ending.

Back then, I had so much anger and wanted to hurt someone. I needed to place blame for all the suffering. But really it is about different people making choices. It is about time and consequence. It is about hope and love. It is about God's faithfulness.


I look at this picture of my dad and hope that in his soul there is goodness. I hope that if God sees goodness there, that my father will be found faithful to be in heaven, healed and whole. I hope that he will see me, run to me and hold me. I hope that I will see and feel that love oozing out for me. But by then, being in heaven, it won't matter what the results end up being ... it is a place of eternal happiness.

Not sure where this comes from except that seeing him triggers a feeling of wanting. Maybe that never will go away.
Maybe because he is a part of me. I can accept life as is... and I am grateful to be in a place of acceptance of what he can offer me. Yet the child in me still yearns.