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Posted
February 15
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A LOVE THAT LASTS A LIFETIME

I was 19 when I married Phil. Nineteen! Polished and responsible on the outside, idealistic and immature on the inside.

Phil was my knight in shining armor, promising to sweep me into a happily-ever-after life of romance and passion, castles and crowns. For the rest of my days I would be loved, feel loved, overflow with loved-ness.

We would be different than my parents— or his. Or anyone else we knew for that matter. Fight? Argue? Bicker? Grow apart? Not a chance! We were better than that; we loved each other better than that. Our love would set a new precedent, we would be the ones to lead the way for others to follow.

Ha! My resolve lasted all the way till the first time he hurt my feelings. The moment he alluded to the idea that maybe I had some growing up to do.

The first time I didn’t quite measure up to his mom. 

He never said those words. But I knew— I knew he was thinking it. Ruth Comer was gentle, submissive, hard working, kind. She cooked a delicious dinner every night—every single night— without fail. She never cried or sulked or argued or needed. Ever.

I, on the other hand, could hardly get a decent batch of food on the table.  I cried at Hallmark commercials, at off-hand comments that sounded like criticisms, at things he said and things he didn’t say.

Lurking just beneath the surface of my try-hard-to-be-the-perfect-wife façade was a little girl who couldn’t quite measure up to her own ideals. No matter how hard I tried. I wanted to be better than I was, different, the Perfect Woman: productive, efficient, organized, logical.

At the tender age of nineteen I didn’t know I had hurts inside that needed healing. I didn’t know that my husband couldn’t fix my brokenness— that he wasn’t supposed to.

Somehow I thought his love would cure all that was wrong with me.

All I knew for sure was that I needed more love than he could give, and I assumed that meant we were doomed.
Doomed to disappointment. Doomed to failure. Doomed to late night sessions trying to “resolve” hurts that didn’t make sense.

On a sure track towards everything I didn’t want my marriage to become.

What I didn’t know, couldn’t yet grasp, was the truth I know now. The truth that romance novels and movies and little girls’ dreams are not made of. The truth that has given us over 38 years of real love…

A love that lasts a lifetime involves two imperfect, flawed, deeply broken people finding all their voracious need for intimacy not in each other, but in the with-ness of God. 

When both of us press in to God in such a way that we sense that He is present, He is working, redeeming all those broken pieces that create havoc on our insides.

When all that love and respect and satisfaction and romance we want from each other isn’t enough and we let go of expecting what our spouses will never be able to give us— that’s when true love grows and thrives and becomes something beautiful.

True love doesn’t fit neatly on the inside of a pink card. Real romance looks more like two people with gnarled hands and lined faces who’ve learned to receive love from the One who loves them like no other and then found ways to pour that love on each other.

And that kind of love lasts a lifetime.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. As I write these words, Phil and I are on our way to Scotland. We’ll be teaching an Intentional: Raising Passionate Jesus Followers conference in Glasgow this weekend. On Sunday, Phil will be preaching on marriage at RE:Hope, Glasgow. Then we travel to the Lake District in England for a little romance, relaxation, and time to dream about the days ahead. I’ll also be sharing my story at a women’s event while we’re there in Windemere, England.

Follow us on Instagram if you’d like to follow our fun!

@dianewcomer

@philmcomer

@intentional_parents

Posted
July 6
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God Has Things He Wants To Say To You

“I still have many things to say to you…”

John 16:13

Di, I have many things to say to you.

The words jump off the page of my Bible and straight into my heart. His words take my breath away.

Me? You have many things to say to me?

I burrow deeper into my big white chair, curling my legs under me. I pour a cup of tea, I’m listening now. On my lap my journal jockeys for position with my Bible. I hold a pen, poised and ready. If God actually has many things to say to me isn’t it best that I write down what He says?

And then I go back and read the whole of what John wrote. I want to know exactly what Jesus said. I want to make sure that His words are for me, for us, for every one of His followers. And I want to make sure I’m listening to Him—for what He has to say, not for what I want to hear. I need His words this morning, not my own, not anyone else’s— His.

I have the audacity to believe God speaks to those who lean in to listen.

I still have many things to say to you,

But you cannot bear them now.

When the Spirit of truth comes He will guide you into all truth;

For He will speak whatever He hears, and He will declare it to you.

All that the Father has is Mine.

For this reason I said that He will take what is Mine and declare it to you.

John 16:13-15

I’ve been reading the words penned by John for months now; both John’s Gospel and his letters. Every time I sink my soul into his stories about Jesus and his long, rambling tangents (commentators call these discourses), something seems to stir inside me.

His words stir a longing, delight, awe.

I’m smitten, enamored by the picture John paints of Jesus. And just a little envious too. How did John come to be full of such confidence that Jesus not only loved him passionately, but actually liked him too? How is it that he referred to himself with such convincing conviction as the apostle Jesus loved? Not once or twice, but again, and again, and again as if he really believed it.

For years, decades, I have known the astounding truth that God loves me. And every year that I walk in His steps, learning to follow as close as I can, I have known that love a little more.

But to call myself “the one Jesus loved”— as in specifically? As in, Jesus loves the me-that-I-am? The possibity that Jesus not only loves me because He loves the whole world, but also because He loves me specifically, especially, particularly?

I’m afraid to let myself believe that God’s love for me is specific to me.

That kind of love is a little too personal. Not at all like what I’ve absorbed from the depravity-of-man preachers who want to make sure I know I’m unworthy of God’s love. And I know they’re right, but this?

The idea that maybe Jesus’ love for me is not just general, but personal? That’s harder to swallow. Because I know me. I’m well acquainted with the depravity part. And, like everyone else, I’ve had plenty of people point out those parts of me that Jesus cannot possibly fail to see.

And if I do believe that He loves me like that, then I have to also believe that He talks to me, that He has things He wants to say to me, His girl, Di.

Selah. Pause and think about that.

That’s what I did this morning. I paused and thought long and wondrously about these words in John. That He still has many things He wants to say to me. That He knows there are things I’m not yet ready to hear and that doesn’t annoy Him. He’s okay with going at my pace. He’s more than okay, He’s adapting the pace of His speaking, guiding, declaring because He knows me, loves me, and wants me to hear. In fact, He left His Spirit when He returned to the Father for the express purpose of speaking truth to me.

And that’s all I’m going to say because it’s enough for today.

Now it’s time for me to go on my walk with Him. Time to silence myself so that I can hear the whispers of truth He wants me to know. Time for me to listen to the real, actual, touchable and feel-able love He has for me. As in the me He likes. The me that is becoming, in His presence, the me He had in mind when He made me.

But before I go, I would like to invite you to leave your name in the comments— with anything you want to add about why God loving you is something you’re struggling to grasp. Or even just your initials if you’re not ready for anyone else to know why Jesus’ love is so hard for you to actually feel. I’ll take you with me on my walks and I’ll talk to Jesus about your need to know, to experience His love— specifically.

And I’ll be back next week to write more of what I am discovering about this One who speaks, who guides, who loves the way He made you.

From a heart so full I just had to write it down,

Diane

Posted
December 23
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For The Men In Our Lives: WHAT EVERY WOMAN REALLY WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS

Dear Husbands, Fiancees, Boyfriends, and “Just Friends”, 

The women you love want you to know what it is they really want– more than beautiful clothes or sparkling jewelry, more than fancy dates or exotic vacations. These are real things every man can give… if only he will. 

I posted this two years ago. We haven’t changed, this is still what every woman really wants for Christmas:

 

We’ve browsed through magazines, linked onto websites, and made our wish lists. Clothing sizes, shoe preferences, colors and particulars. Everything we think our men need to know in order to give us a Christmas to remember.

Now, armed with ideas, men are heading to the mall, determined to get that one thing they hope will make a woman happy.

And so, I have a list of my own to give the men who love the women I care about. It won’t break the bank or your back, but it will give her exactly what she really wants from you this Christmas.

Ten Things To Give The Woman You Love For Christmas:

1.  Your Attention– full and undivided.

Uninterrupted by cell phone rings and texting dings. She knows you can’t give it all the tim e, but for Christmas won’t you try? Do it on purpose.

2. Your Eyes- it’s the stuff of romance.

When a man looks into a woman’s eyes she knows he sees her. But it doesn’t have to be Hollywood mush. Just a moment of linking up, of homing in on the window to her soul. Dive deep. There’s a person of unique value in there. Look for what she cannot say.

3.  Your Touch- purposeful and affectionate.

A way of showing her you connect with her. Women crave those brushes of love against their skin. To run your fingers across her heart, you’ll need to step into her space and bring her into yours.

4.  Your Stories- give her a memory, a picture in your mind that you’ve tucked away somewhere of her being who she is and you loving that part of her. Tell it well and she’ll know for a moment that you really do know her.

5.  Your Hope- she sees everything not right with the world she’s trying to create for those she loves.  Tell her it’s okay, that perfection isn’t perfect, that love is messy and so is real life and you love her no matter what.

6.  Your Honor- What is the thing she does remarkably well? Have you told her? Have you told her in front of others? It’s not a woman’s way to brag about herself. Can you be her trumpeter?

7.  Your Depths- Give her those hidden hopes and dreams and thoughts and observations that will never be part of a quick phone call. She wants to know you way deep down inside.

8.  Your Help- Christmas can be overwhelming for a woman. So much to do and so many glossy pictures of others doing it better. Get up and help her. Lend a hand. Make life a little easier for her so she can be who she really is. And jump in before she gets crabby about all the work, she hates herself for being like that.

9.  Your Generosity- Can you choose in the midst of the pressures of real life to give a little more extravagantly than anyone would expect? Add a flourish. Make her coffee and cover it with whipped cream. Buy her something she doesn’t need. Bless her.

10.  Your Love- That’s what she really wants.

Every woman I know wants to be loved. To be considered better than average in a world that measures our success by means we’ll never attain.

To be  held in a place so uniquely special to you that you’re willing to give your attention, your eyes, your touch, your stories, your hope and honor and depths and help and generosity just to be sure she knows how much you love her.

We want to feel loved.

You have it in your power to give that kind of love this Christmas to your wife or your girlfriend, your good friend, your mom.

Will you?

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Women, do you have anything to add to this list?

Posted
February 9
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WAYS TO CULTIVATE EACH OTHER’S FREEDOM

OUR HOUSE: The Bedroom #4

Dear Matt and Simo,

I used to think that communication was the key to a happy marriage. Isn’t that, after all, what the experts say? And so I set about to communicate with a capital C. Every grievance, each oversight, any hint of bump up against my ever wary feelings— all very carefully communicated lest we miss out on the kind of marriage we both wanted.

It didn’t work.

Instead of bringing us closer, my determination to tell all drove a wedge between us. My constant “nicely said” rebuke left Phil feeling defensive and brittle around me. I was building a wall between us and for the life of me, I didn’t know why or what to do about it.

Until I noticed a pattern.

Every time we made love, the wall fell down… at least for a while. My feelings stayed temporarily safe from that tendency to make a big deal out of everything, and your dad just got nicer, with a certain sweetness that made him easy to live with.

Mmh.

And I began to wonder if maybe communication might not be the only key to a happy marriage. In fact, I began to suspect that intimacy— safe, satisfying, sexuality at it’s best— might be at least as important as all that talking I’d thought we needed.

Years and decades later, I’m sure of it. And because I now believe that the quantity and quality of your lovemaking bears a direct reflection on the quantity and quality of your communication, I have some advice for those just figuring it out.

For the men:

Respect the role beauty plays in her sexuality. If you can help her know her own beauty, see herself through your eyes, and shield her from the biting criticism she sees in the mirror, she will respond with the passion you know is in there.

How To Respect Your Wife’s Need For Sensual Beauty:

  • Tell her she’s beautiful. Often. More than you think is necessary. Be specific.
  • Smile at her, admire the way she swings her hips when she knows you’re looking, tell her what that does to you.
  • Shower her with the feminine beauty that she craves. Bubble bath, perfume, lotions, candles.
  • Make room in your budget for pretty things: underwear, lingerie, fresh sheets. Beauty matters— to her.
  • Keep your office out of your bedroom and your clothes off the floor. Help her create a haven in your room- a place not for work but for play.
  • Give her time to cultivate beauty. A woman who works all the time and doesn’t take time for beauty is not a woman who is thinking about her sensuality.
  • Beware of crass humor, it’s a sure turn off for women. Instead, lighten the tone of your romance by laughing with her.
  • Clean yourself up so that she wants to be near you. Take stock of what you look like and smell like from your teeth to your toes. It matters.

For Women: 

How To Respect Your Husband’s Need For Sex:

  • This is not some sort of base animalist urge, but a God given need for intimate physical expression.
  • Tell your husband that you are always available, that you always want him even when sometimes you don’t feel like you do.
  • Determine to partner with your husband in his fight for purity, it’s your battle too. Let him know you want all of him, always.
  • Be the willing, eager recipient of all he has to give while you guide him in giving you pleasure too. No man wants to make love to a martyr. His pleasure increases exponentially with yours.
  • Save your energy for sex. Budget your time, your day, your availability so that he knows you’re willing and waiting and eager.
  • Seduce him on a regular basis. A phone call, an invitation, a note.
  • Fill his memory with sensual pictures of your sensuality for when he doesn’t have you near.
  • Cultivate your own sensuality. You are made for this, biologically and emotionally. Own that. Enjoy it.

And remember this: When all is well and vibrant and satisfying in the bedroom, all those annoyances and bumps that happen in real life just don’t seem to matter as much.

And this: If it’s not working, don’t give up or pull away. Get help.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. Thoughts? How can your husband bring beauty into your sensuality? And how can your wife respect your sexuality? It’s high time we started talking about this area of intimacy.

(image by Hillary Kupish)

Posted
January 19
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WHY SEX IS A VERY BIG DEAL

OUR HOUSE: The Bedroom #1

Eat friends;

drink and imbibe deeply,

O lovers.

Song of Songs 5v1

NASB

 …drink your fill of love

NIV

Dear Matt and Simona,

God likes sex.

He approves, He smiles, He delights in seeing His created ones drinking deeply of this gift from Him.

In fact, He likes what He made so much that He dares use it as a metaphor for the intimacy He invites each of us into with Himself.[1]

But here’s what worries me:

Lots of married couples act as if sex is really not that big of a deal.

They don’t talk about it much, don’t try that hard, don’t wonder why they’ve settled into a less-than-terrific routine of barely enough and barely good enough sex to satisfy either of them.

And I think that makes God sad.

Because He makes a big deal about sex. Good sex (the married, mutually satisfying kind) and bad sex (the adulterous or manipulative or enslaving kind) are woven throughout the narrative of God’s story.

In fact, mid-way through the Bible, He stops and writes a whole book about sex. (The Song of Solomon) As if to say, “Really, you guys, this is what you need!” Yet sadly, throughout history, people have blushed their way through the Song of Solomon, trying to pretend that He didn’t mean sex… surely!

And of course, the two of you know this. You are imbibing deeply, the honeymoon isn’t over, you’re delighting in each other and learning the language of a love you hardly knew possible.

But just in case… just to store away for another day down the road when you’re tempted to minimize intimacy because life gets in the way… I want to remind you…

Why Sex Is Really A Very Big Deal

1.  Sex creates intimacy. Sex creates a mystical moment of intimacy so intense, so momentarily out of control— that your hearts burst with the wonder of it. Together.

2.  Sex releases hormones. Dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, all of which flood your bodies with feelings of love during and immediately after sex. Which means that frequent, passionate sex actually keeps you feeling in love with each other.

 3.  Sex makes you nice. The vulnerability, the satisfaction, the ecstasy of sex, all combine to leave the both of you feeling… nice: full of grace, uncritical and kind.

 4.  Sex keeps you loyal. Two, now forged into one can take on the world! A woman who gives that kind of passion, a man who gives that kind of pleasure— there’s no stopping them.

 5.  Sex is thrilling. That unrestrained passion between a man and a woman who have pledged to be with each other forever is better than any other rush life has to offer.

If someone could market a pill that created intimacy, released mood enhancing hormones, made people nice, kept couples loyal, and guaranteed a rush of out-of-control but not-life-threatening thrill… they’d be rich!

And Someone has.

So please, my dear son and beautiful daughter, make sex a big deal.

A really big deal.

When it’s less than great, get help. Take someone you feel comfortable with aside and ask questions. Read books. Keep at it. Don’t stop. And whatever you do, never, ever let life get in the way of this gift God has given the two of you together, forever.

From a heart that wants your love to last and thrive over a lifetime,

Mom

For those who are reading: I will be writing about sexuality and intimacy for the next several weeks. If you have questions that you think I may be able to answer, please email me at hespeaks@gmail.com

Some great books:

1. Sheet Music by Kevin Leman

2. Intimacy Ignited by Dr. Joseph & Linda Dillow and Dr. Peter and Lorraine Pintus

3. Intimate Issues by Linda Dillow and Lorraine Pintus (for women)

4. Intended For Pleasure by Dr. Ed Wheat

 

Do you know of others? 

(Image by Hillary Kupish)

 

 

 



[1] see Ephesians 5v21-33

Posted
September 29
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OUR HOUSE

(image by hillary kupish)

Our house is a very, very, very fine house

With two cats in the yard,

Life used to be so hard,

Now everything is easy cause of you…

I’ll light the fire,

You place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.[1]

(still my favorite love song…)

 Dear Matt and Simona,

Saturday was your wedding day. A beautiful, romantic day you have both dreamed of for many months. Today the two of you are flying across oceans and mountains, glaciers and jungles… to a place just for the two of you. Alone.

And I sit here in my tiny cottage in the woods trying to condense all that I want to say into these few words on a screen. I type and I delete. I walk around the block and think of too many things I want to say. I try again.

And there is only this:

A love that lasts a lifetime doesn’t happen by accident.

It is not a romantic ending to a good story. It is not in the stars, not because you found the One. The kind of love you hope for isn’t because of good luck or good personalities or good timing. It does not wear out or go away. No one falls out of this kind of love.

A love that lasts a lifetime is a love that is lived on purpose.

It is a love that is gone after. A love that is done daily. A love that is thought about, sacrificed for, worked towards.

Even on bad days. Especially on bad days.

Yes, love is a gift. But perhaps more, real love, the kind of love that all of us long for, is a skill. A vocation. A calling.

And that is why I am writing these letters. Because I dare to believe that this is a kind of love that is possible. I believe that you two and anyone else can have a love that lasts for a lifetime. I believe that any of us— all of us— can become excellent lovers.

And more, I believe we are called to do this kind of love.

Everyday.

For the rest of forever.

That is what these letters will be about. The doing of real love. The craft, the skill, the expertise it takes to navigate real life and cultivate true love. I want to pass on what I am learning about how to “walk in the way of love” (Ephesians 5:2) so that when you are both old… with all the inherent greying and sagging and wrinkling and slowing that old age brings… you will still be in love.

Because I believe it’s possible, this whole-life love. Maybe not normal, but possible. And I don’t believe it has much to do with luck, though no doubt about it, some people have an easier time at it than others. And though I may have started off life as a dreamer, a romantic, a head-in-the-clouds innocent… I now have three plus decades of church ministry under my belt and all the inherent sad, tragic, disgusting, horrifying real-life-marriage stories to off-set my fairy tale take on life.

And I believe more than ever in the theory of redemption:  that our God is a fixer of broken things. That your mess-ups and mistakes do not define you.

Nor is all that messiness a predilection for future failure. I read it in God’s Word and I see it in real life.

I have seen people tuck their broken, repentant, honest selves right into Jesus. I have seen Him exchange their sorry state with His glory, with His beauty. I have seen—close up—two people collide and fall on their faces and call out to God. I have seen the beauty He brings out of the ashes of fire-ravaged lives. How He melds two people into one.

And I am one of those: broken, selfish, spoiled, self-indulgent, and… redeemed. And so is your dad. You know that.

God doesn’t automatically make repentant, dependent people good, instead He fills them with God. With Himself. And then He slowly begins that painstaking process of smoothing off the ugliness. Something like the way He used glaciers to craft great swaths of smooth tundra, so slowly the movement is almost imperceptible.

The key, I have come to see, is patience. Patience with each other first, but also patience with yourself. We learn to love well. God Himself trains us in the way of love. Scripture is filled with wisdom to get us started and then to stretch us further until His way becomes, if not natural, at least a whole lot easier.

So, before the letters even officially begin, let me leave you with just a couple of things to tuck away.

  1. A love that lasts a lifetime is possible.
  2. A love that lasts a lifetime is not natural or easy or automatic.
  3. A love that lasts a lifetime requires the humility of daily brokenness before God.
  4. A love that lasts a lifetime involves skills that can be learned.
  5. A love that lasts a lifetime takes a lifetime.

And this…

A love that lasts a lifetime is worth it.

From my heart,

Mom

P.S. While I am writing these letters to my son and new daughter, they have agreed to let you read along. What I am hoping, is that you will bring your stories and wisdom and questions and comments with you. I get tired of talking all by myself. So please, let the conversation begin.



[1] Published and recorded in 1970, by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I’ve been whistling this one under my breathe for longer than you’ve been alive!

Posted
March 27
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Dad Stories, Features, Glimpses
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DAD STORIES: memories from a man who got it right


I’ve told you about my dad— how, without actually meaning to, he’s shaped my faith in God.

(my daughter, Rebekah and my dad)

My dad has shown me in his own way— in his way with me, how the Father is.

How He loves…

How He welcomes…

How He wants to be with me on those early, intimate mornings.

Because of Dad, trusting God has been, if not exactly easy, at least simple for me.

One night, many years ago, when my old nemesis, Fear, started to choke the joy out of my daily life, the memories of my dad’s way with me broke those chains…

It was late and I lay in bed wide-awake. Alone and afraid.

My husband traveled as a part of his job in those days, sometimes for weeks at a time. On this night he was an ocean way, unavailable, unreachable, unable to calm me down or cheer me up. I’d suffered the insomnia of fear every night he was gone.

Too exhausted to sleep, too afraid to allow myself to rest, my façade of courage was crumbling.

My fear teetered towards terror.

A deaf woman alone at night with three children sleeping blithely in their bedrooms— every possibility presenting itself in colored array as I desperately prayed those demons away.

What if someone breaks in the house? Would I hear them? No.

What if there’s a fire? Would I hear the alarm? No.

What if someone big and mean and bad comes barging in the front door… no, no, no!

I can’t hear! I can’t protect my children! I can’t be safe!

I sat awake, hearing aids at full volume, baseball bat at hand.

I prayed, of course. 

Desperate liturgies for protection: for angels, for hedges, for walls and warriors to watch over me.

And I laugh a little now, but at the time, that helplessness felt immensely more real than any assurances of the safety of my neighborhood or the ridiculousness of my fears.

Yet still…in spite of the unreasonableness of my angst, God brought Himself into my runaway fears.

Instead of scoffing: You’re a grown-up, Di, get over it!

Instead of shame: Where’s your faith?

Instead of platitudes: Angels are watching over you…

He reminded me of my dad.

Every night when I was growing up, my dad walked through our house just before going to bed. He checked doors, turned down the heater, closed windows, peeked in on each of us kids.

Making the rounds like a night watchman.

Making sure I was safe.

Making me feel safe.

Never once, in all my years at home did I beg Dad to take care of me. I didn’t plead for protection from the invisible bad guys. Didn’t remind him to lock up. Didn’t keep a baseball bat close just in case.

Why?

I didn’t need to ask for protection because I slept close to my protector.

God, I realized, is just like my dad!

In fact, I began to suspect that all my begging might be an insult to Him. Of course He’s watching over me! 

Instead of desperate rituals of praying for angels to surround me, instead of walking through every worry, and making sure He knew all about how He should handle it, and why, and what I wanted Him to do…

Maybe I should just thank Him for all the nights He’d watched over me.

Just like Dad.

Years and years and decades of nights. No bad guys, no break-ins, no monsters under the bed.

Just my great big God watching over me while I slept.

I drifted off to sleep that night whispering thanks.

And every night after that, whenever the reality of being a deaf woman alone started to feel unsafe, whenever fear threated to keep me up, I felt that grip of safe assurance— of my Father being just like my dad—steady, dependable, present.

He loved me… just like Dad.

He was up to the task of taking care of me… just like Dad.

I could practically feel Him locking up tight, making the rounds, checking in to be sure I was okay… just like my Dad.

My dad spent all my growing up years watching over me. Sometimes in simple ways like locking up at night. Sometimes in harder-to-swallow ways like restricting my freedom lest my naivete leave me unprotected.

I wasn’t always grateful. I didn’t always understand. I wasn’t always nice about not understanding. In fact, he could tell you stories about me not being nice or grateful or understanding…

But that didn’t stop him.

Because my dad cared enough to take care of me… and so does my Father.

From my heart,

Diane

THINGS MY DAD GOT RIGHT:

1.    He watched over me.

2.    He was there— down the hall, next to mom, no matter what.

3.    He didn’t mock my fears.

4.    He kept watching over me even when I didn’t think I needed him.

5.    He showed me what the Father is like.

 

P.S. Have you learned some things about the Father from your dad? Can you tell us what?

Or are you just now learning that the Father is different than the way your dad was to you? That He loves in a way your dad was not able to love?