There are still certain places I go, such as Fry’s Electronics, that faithfully choke me every time. Dad was a computer guy. In fact, part of me believes that may be what caused the cancer. For 35 years he sat in his office, 12 hrs a day, completed surrounded by every electronic you could imagine. Fry’s was always the place he would go to add to the collection, and I typically tagged along while he taught me the computer ropes. I have only been there 3 or 4 times since he passed away, and never thinking ahead about it happening, without fail, I cry every time I walk through the doors.
CHURCH. Church is where I LOSE it, every week. I don’t quite have it figured out yet, but each week I discover a little more of why it happens. It’s like clockwork. Praise and worship begins, and within minutes tears are streaming down my face. It’s gotten to the point that Jack and I just laugh about it. “You better sleep good tonight, because we both know you will be exhausted after crying through all the music tomorrow.”
I spend the weeks running around, working days as well as evenings, trying to schedule in my friends, my mom, my job, and my husband and I can honestly say the only time I actually process my emotions is when I’m driving place to place. I live really close to everything now so that is not very much time. On average I’d say I spend 30 minutes a week trying to process through my thoughts. When I get to church and the music begins it feels like a gush of wind flowing by me and taking all the other stress from life away, and only leaving me with my emotions. The emotion becomes unrestrained, and flows from me in a way I can’t explain. It feels like The Lord unplugs me, drains my pain into His hands and frees me from that weeks sorrow. The tears are not always sad. In fact, they seems to be more and more joyful. I find myself in the presence of The Lord dreaming of what it feels like for my Dad to actually BE in His presence.
When Dad was sick I had many late nights with Mom talking through what this process was like for her when she went through it with her mother. My grandmother’s dying process was very similar, just much more drawn out. Mom was by her side when she passed, as I so wish I could have been with Dad. One thing that continues to stand out to me was Mom telling me how much she could feel my Grandma’s presence after she passed. Grandma lived out of town, and Mom said she actually felt like she was with her more now, then when she was alive. I had these same expectations for “feeling” Dad after he passed. I was hoping for it anyway. I haven’t felt him. I’ve been angry at him, because I haven’t felt him. I haven’t been able to understand why he wouldn’t “be around.” I have slowly overcome that anger and really stopped trying to “feel him.” This Sunday, I “felt” him for the first time. My best friend, M, is part of our worship team, but not often enough does she get the chance to shine God’s glory through her voice alone. This week it was just a few up them singing and she was the only female so she was able to cut through the voices, and the purity in heart was heard. There are two people who’s singing voices can break my soul down to nothing, my sister, and my best friend M. They were singing and old hymn. I usually sing along, but this time I just closed my eyes and listened to them, as well as the crowd, as it sounded as though we were all in front of our God, in heaven, singing His praises. Suddenly, I heard this deep bass voice singing along. This voice was louder than everyone in the crowd. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from as it was so loud, but also sounded so far away. Dad always sang bass. As a kid, in church, he would always grab my hand and place it on his chest so I could feel the vibrations from his deep, rich voice.
I heard him this week. He was there, with me, singing my bass.