My last post was about nightmares. Several of you said you would pray that I would not have nightmares. I have not had any since you began to pray.
But when folks promised to pray for me, I realized part of me didn't want them to. Because prayer works. And if they prayed, I would stop having nightmares. And if I stopped having nightmares, Dad wouldn't be ALIVE in my dreams, even if only for a few brief moments. Yes, he ended up dead each time. But he started out ALIVE. And here. And with me. And huggable. And talking. And ALIVE.
My subconscious was willing to repeat dreams that ended badly because they started so very, very beautifully.
When I realized that, I realized something else. It's getting close to being time to say goodbye. It's not time yet. But the time for goodbye is coming. But not yet. But soon. But not yet.
But when I do say goodbye...
I will say goodbye with hope
For I know my goodbye is not the end
I will grieve with hope
Because I believe with hope
There's a place where I'll see Dad's face again
Dad IS alive. He's just not here.
Unlike Emmanuel. Who IS here.
My Savior LIVES.
A response to my last post said, "Hope comes in the morning." Yes. Hallelujah!
Hope also comes in the mourning. Just as God gives specific mercy and specific grace for specific tragedy, He also gives specific hope. The hope of seeing Dad whole, made new, perfect, restored, and infused with true peace and joy. The hope of hearing his voice again. The hope of hugging him again. The hope of restoration with him. The hope of seeing his twinkling eyes and hearing his ready laugh.
This hope comes through the incarnation, sinless life, substitutionary death, bodily resurrection, ascension, and imminent advent of Jesus Christ. It is through Christ that I have the hope of seeing Dad again. This knowledge fills me with the hope of Christ in a completely unique way. In a relieved way. In a sure way. In a joy-giving way.
I am thankful for the mourning that brings such hope. And I am thankful for the Savior who came 2,000+ years ago as a wee bairn to bring this life-giving hope to me. And to you.