15 Years. 5 Months. A Block of Wood

It's hard to believe that it's been fifteen years since God called his servant Amie Montgomerie home.  I'd be remiss not to make mention of the anniversary of her death yesterday.  It marked such a transformative time in my life.  It was a time in my life when I was lost.  It was after hearing her remarkable story that I rededicated my life to the Lord, so I am forever grateful that God gave her to us, even if it was for such a short period of time. 

I believe with all my heart that nothing happens arbitrarily, that God has purpose in everything he does, and though I would like it to be like that scene in Bruce Almighty where Jim Carey's character is playing God and he answers "yes" to all prayer request e-mails, I know it just doesn't happen that way.  One husband prays for a healthy organ for his ailing wife while another husband prays his wife, an organ donor, doesn't die after the accident.  One prayer will be answered thankfully, one prayer will seemingly be discarded.  To know the will of God.  I felt that strong will when Amie died, and it didn't take me long to regret cursing God for allowing one of his angels on earth to be overcome by such evil murderers.  That's why I swore I would accept God's will last September when Dad was in ICU.  I knew it didn't look good, and I did try bargaining with God, praying such sentiments like, "God, if you pull Dad out, it will be another one of your miracles that people will be able look at and not be able to deny your existence, much less your supreme authority."  If only Bruce Almighty had been ruling fifteen years ago.  Five months ago.  Alas it was not so, but thankfully I have seen the error of my ways and accepted what God knows to be his perfect will.  As tough as it is to accept sometimes, and as hard as it is sometimes to live after a loved one passes, I know God's will is perfect and good shall come about through Dad's death, just like it did with me when Amie died.  Still, days like today make it hard.

Three weeks ago my elder son was given a block of wood, four nails, and four plastic wheels and told to make a car.  From the moment I signed my son up for Boy Scouts, I had been looking forward to a little father-son bonding time, which I got with him.  But I was also looking forward to the phone calls with Dad, asking him questions about the laws of physics, how to calculate the center of gravity, how to turn potential energy into kinetic energy.  These are the kinds of things for which he would have had answers, and he would have loved educating me every bit as much as I loved educating my own son through the process.  It seems to me from a son's perspective that this was what he lived for, so I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised that I feel the same pride as a Dad.  I know God felt it for his Son.