On November 27th, my Dad had his second stroke. He had his first around Father’s Day in 2016. At the time of the first one, I worked at North Lake College in Dallas, TX. I got the call and immediately left. I didn’t ask permission. I informed the team that I was leaving. As I drove to the Emergency Room, I called everyone I could to put him on prayer list across the state of Texas. And the medical team marveled at his recovery and his stubbornness.
For the second, I was there. In 2018, I left my career in higher education to be a full-time entrepreneur. I was outside working on my Bigmama’s house. Her house is next door to my parent’s house. And as I pondered where to make a cut I heard my Mom yell my name. I ran to her back door and found my mom trying to get him up. He had fell in the doorway of a back bedroom. The fact that my mom had heard him scratching the door of the bedroom with his finger nails was God. The fact that I was at the house on a Monday morning was God. The fact that I was strong enough to pick his 6′ 2″ frame off the floor was God.
The fact that he had another stroke was all him…ALL him! And I carried anger even as I helped him recover. As I set with him in the hospital…as I spent the night in uncomfortable chairs…as I spent all day at rehab…I was pissed. I blamed him for poor choices, for not loving my mom enough to change, for putting us through this again. And then God reminded me that my Dad gets to walk his faith out however he chooses and I get to support him, not blame him for having faith. That took a moment to drop into my heart. God has reminded me of that over and over and over again. I’m not angry. And I don’t blame him anymore.
Today I want to collect all the stories and lessons that doctor’s say he’s likely to forget. Today I want him to know that his spiritual legacy is secure in me.
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