“For we walk by faith and not by sight”- 2 Corinthians 5:7
I’m not even really sure how to begin this blog, its heavy on my heart, so I’ll pray to my Jesus and ask him guide and deliver. —
Father God in the name of Jesus Christ, As I come before you, I come to you with a willing heart, and my hands placed upon my keys. I ask Jesus that you guide my heart, my mind, and my soul. I ask that you unlock a message meant for someone, even if the person is me. I ask that you fill my blog with your words, and your blessings. Almost like a mini-sermon, God please lead. -Amen.
Now Shall We?
Two months ago, when Jesus told me to leave my previous job and go back into CNA work, I initially said “NO!”; you see I’m a fighter, I fight with everyone, even Jesus, and Jesus always wins. I was in a place of comfort. I was working an 8am-5pm, Monday -Friday, off every weekend, and able to go to church and all church events, every time the doors were open. Living the dream. Scribing and working on a computer all day, right up my alley. Typing is my thing. I love, love, love it. But with complacency there also comes consequences. While being able to read my bible more, there was little growth. Those that I was witnessing too were hungry at first and then towards the end it seemed as though, my witnessing at this particular location was finished. The pressing came.
Jesus and I went round. – I refused for 2 weeks before finally caving in. I remember work getting so strenuous to where I threw my hands up, ran for college, and then said “Alright God, one application, one location, two things have to be a go, they must hire me on the spot, and first and foremost, I have to be able to attend church, no questions or options I have to be able to go to church. I am not willing to sacrifice being in your house!” I told you I was a fighter. And I literally, stomped my feet like a child who sticks out their tongue when they get mad.
I got the job on the spot and sure enough the weekends I do work, da da da da.. I am to come in after church. —- Jesus opened the door at the place he directed me too.
My heart knew this place all too well (but that’s not why I didn’t want to come here, I just didn’t want to go back into the CNA field, I thought Jesus was done with me in that area. I was wrong go figure, and kudos Jesus is always right).
Back to me knowing this place. My heart knows this venue. I knew it when I came for the interview, what was locked away in this place. I knew it when I said yes to the job, what was within these walls, and I knew that I’d walk upon that very ground (or would I?)
When I began work, I didn’t struggle. I just worked and kept going, knowing, just knowing I was going in and out of that particular room (or was I?).
Before I go farther, I want to state this.
I am working in the same facility that I said final goodbyes to my Precious Daddy.
I knew walking into this place that one of these rooms, held our last conversation, our last hug, our last I love you, our last I’ll see you tomorrow, our last father-daughter advice, our last kiss on the forehead, and our last memories. As for which room it was, I didn’t know right off hand, and I didn’t want to know either. I could not bring myself to looking at the photograph that had his name and room number on it.
Where God guides, God provides, I will not question, I’ll just go. —
After testifying to a co-worker and sharing the memory of my dad and how God used his death for his good, it came upon me to look up the room, again being reluctant, I pushed the thought out. —
Which room was it, what will I feel like when I go into this room? Will I cry? Will I talk to him? Will all the memories flood my mind and my vision? Will I see the last memory unfold like a story that’s happening now in the present? Will the awful call come the next morning that tells me you have died again? What will it be like?
Sunday, July 24th, 2022, — I get up. It’s my Sunday to work late. Church was canceled today due to bad storms and power outages. I spend time with Eli, I get ready for work, pack some lunch, and then go grab my photobook from under my bed. —- Flipping through the pages, my heart races faster and faster, the feeling of I almost don’t want to know comes over me again, it’s too late the book is in my hands. I flip and flip and flip, and then I see it.
A little brownish/red house room indicator, with room number in white, your roommate’s name in the first slot, and yours in the second slot.
Room #10. Bed 2.
Who is in this room now? How many times have I been in that spot? My mind pings back and forth like a crazy game of ping pong, only I’m in a game alone, and mentally smacking myself across the cheeks as I ponder this question.
Oh, wow! I think I know! Wait a minute. Is that even possible? — Of all the rooms.
I get to work, and I ask who is in room 10? Sure, enough I was right. I will not mention names due to HIPPA, but I will say that when a patient is in their right mind and fully continent, we really have no purpose for going into their room other than to deliver their meal tray, much less, go clear across the room to the other side by the window and just sit down for a few minutes.
Of all the rooms I have been in, this one particular room, I have not been in, other than stepping into the door. — What are the odds of that? — Coincidence? I think not! Nothing is coincidence.
Today, I took a long stare into the room. I glared from the outside of the door, looking across the 10 foot of space that separated my physical body, from the physical place of those last physical memories. — Looking towards the window, my throat tightened, and I walked to the next room.
I’m not ready. 😦
I’m not ready to tread those waters.
I’m not ready to walk where my angel once walked.
I’m not ready to stare straight at the empty bed, and look out that window and see it all play before my eyes…
I’m not ready to fully let go…
Tonight, I looked up the stages of grief to try and figure out where I am in this process. All I know is I blocked it out. I blocked out Daddy’s death as though it never happened. I have dreams of meeting him in Florida, I wish he’d walk right back in the door. But for the most part, I just don’t allow myself to feel. If I feel it, I will release it, and I’d rather hold it, than to ever let it go.
My stage of grief is 7 years in, 7 years stronger than I was on day one, and 7 years waiting for heaven’s tomorrow. —- Its heaven’s tomorrow, when I’ll see him again.
‘But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.– 2 Peter 3:8-9
To my Dad. I loved you while you were here, I love you now that you’re gone. I’ll love you forever, I’ll keep holding on.
To Jesus- Thank you for my Dad. He was an angel sent directly to me, he was the daddy that he never had to be, Jesus make my heart like yours so I can love like he did, for I believe that he’s only gone away with you.
To the ones reading this: I don’t know what you’re going through maybe its grief too & maybe it doesn’t make sense because your loved one had to leave. I get it. My dad was only 55. No one knows the rhyme or reason loved ones have to go, and why tragedy strikes innocent victims, or why cancer hits, but one thing we do know, we have a father in heaven who loves us and who is close during such times.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light- Matthew 11:28-30
The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit- Psalm 34:18
Remember I love you! ❤
&. Jesus loves you most. ❤
Message me if you need me, email@example.com
❤ ❤ ❤
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