NOTE: In celebration of “Mommy on Fire’s” first birthday tomorrow, I am re-publishing my first ever post. The story is painful. The story is real. The story is healing. I will say that since I have committed to writing on this blog a few times each week, my writing has improved quite drastically and while I am nowhere near winning a Pulitzer, this is still proof that if you want to get better at something, you just have to do it.
All of that to say, there are parts where the writer in me cringes but I didn’t want to edit it in any way. I would write it quite differently today and will in fact do so when I publish the next post in my “Life Story” series.
Also, go back and read yesterday’s post for a chance to win a $20 Dayspring gift certificate!
AND…Do you know about “Operation Wear-a-Cross”? Wear a cross around your neck every day in December and show the world the hands and feet of Christ in action. A simple smile, a door held, an encouraging glance is all it takes. For more information, click here! If you are experiencing an economic hardship and do not have a cross necklace to wear, please email me at ncsnapp@gmail.com.
Today is a bit of a melancholic day for me. December 8 always is. It used to be that I would remember as soon as I woke up but now, ten years later, I am sorry to say that it takes me a bit to realize it is actually December 8 until much later in the day.
Today is my father’s birthday.
Trying to explain my relationship with my now-deceased father is a weird one that often evokes the response of “ohhh…” (long and drawn out with a tongue click). The man faced some serious demons and while I don’t know when exactly things got so complicated for him, I do know that the most pivotal life event for him started when his father had an unexpected heart attack (I guess all heart attacks are unexpected but I don’t think anyone knew Grandpa Burl had any heart trouble at all) while the entire family was in the kitchen of their small Indiana home. The story that has been shared with me was that Grandpa Burl fell into the arms of my 15 year old father and the scene, of course, was pure heartache.
Grandpa Burl didn’t make it, leaving behind a young family to be raised without a daddy. As was typical of that time, this life-altering event was simply “swept under the rug.” Truthfully, I think my dear Gramsey was shell-shocked and simply trying to survive while dealing with her grief and trying to stay strong while continuing to raise her three children. Regardless, that was the beginning of a string of events that drove my father to drink. His pain was so deep and so undealt with that I personally believe he self-medicated to the point where he no longer could remember and couldn’t feel the pain anymore.
Unfortunately for him, it seemed as though he also had a predilection to alcoholism and it was a fierce one. He seemed to be your typical Good-Time-Joe frat boy in college – known as Bilko because of his natural golfing ability, he was the life of the party. But when everyone else grew up and moved on, Bilko was still partying. And partying. My mother married that high school/college sweetheart of hers and signed on for a few years of heartache, unbeknownst to her.
It was soon after my birth that things got out of hand.
It’s when I began finding drinks hidden behind plants and remember hearing arguments between my mom and dad that I just didn’t get. We had a NuTone sound system throughout the house, which was a luxury at the time, but a happy home it was not.
Needless to say, mom and dad divorced. She couldn’t do it any longer and I can’t say that I blame her. Until my father’s death, I believe he still loved her something fierce. As my life went on and I continued to be raised by a mother who, like Gramsey, was dealing with her own grief, dad went through bouts of sobriety. Invariably, he fell off he wagon – sometimes after a few months, sometimes after a few years. My memories of him during my childhood are fleeting – sometimes he was around, sometimes he was not. Once in a while he would pull up into our driveway on a random motorcycle (truthfully, it’s amazing my father lived as long as he did – an alcoholic on a motorcycle? Death-wish.) or take me to a movie.
I could see the heartbreak in his eyes when he looked at me a fleeting moment too long with the pain of knowing he was hurting me and missing out on an irreplaceable part of my life.
He tried. The man tried.
Sometimes the demons we fight are ones we cannot fight alone. My father didn’t know of a God that was loving and all-powerful. He knew of a God and saw that same God doing great things for other people but my suspicion is that dad mistakenly believed he was exempt from God’s love. In his alcohol-infested brain, God chose to do good for others and not for him. He just didn’t seem to understand that there is absolutely nothing he could have done that was too horrible for God to handle; however, in dad’s eyes, there were just too many things that he could not forgive of himself.
God could forgive him but I’m not sure he was ever able to forgive himself. I once heard someone say that “God loves you right where you are at this moment but he loves you too much to let you stay there.” Dad was loved as he was having a seizure in an Indianapolis drugstore and he was loved when he finally sobered himself up a few years later. But it must also be said that God’s love would have extended to dad even if he had not turned his life around because the number one thing I love about our God is that he is not conditional or performance-based. There is nothing we can do to make Him love us anymore or any less.
Luckily, dad finally fought his last bout with alcohol six years before his death. Prior to this, I was a college student living a very carefree life at a state university that offered it all. On the surface, I was your girl that “had it all.” But there was that one missing piece – a piece that was the fact that I had not heard from or seen my father in years.
I vividly remember getting the call on a fall day of my sophomore year. My father had been found at the Wheeler Mission in downtown Indianapolis.
He was homeless.
He lived at the mission until he began to slowly start putting the pieces of the puzzle of his life back together again.
The doctors told him if he were to take another drink, he would most certainly kill himself. Though he had been told this before, for some reason, this time stuck. Wheeler Mission, and the help of a local businessman who knew my father from his “good days” and was willing to give him another chance, allowed him to get back on his feet.
He finally looked this horrible disease in the eyes and said “No more.”
His life was never the opulent one he had dreamed of – money was always a struggle and he declared bankruptcy a few times. However, these things aside, he was sober.
Each day he could say this made him the richest man around. His personal life was not what he had planned but I think dad finally saw that maybe, just maybe, God did find him to be precious. Because he was. And if my father were to teach us all something valuable, it would be that you are God’s precious child. He gave us his son over 2,000 years ago for a reason – He knew we couldn’t do it alone.
It is never too late. Never.
Ironically, dad died unexpectedly and quickly from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD). This is a lung disease which results from heavy smoking for many years and eventually causes those infected to suffocate. I forgot to mention that dad was a two to three pack a day smoker. He traded the drinking addiction in for smoking and ultimately, the latter is the one that took him from us. I can’t even begin to go into the details of his death at this time but this I know is true: this gentle, sober, loving man who loved a good laugh and was the most conservative man on the planet, would have loved, LOVED, his grandchildren.
When I see my boys wrestling around on the floor together I can hear his laughter. When Sarah is twirling in her ballet skirt, I can feel his heart melting. I have daydreamed of holidays spent with us while my babies called him “Grandpa.” Because he is their grandpa. Just not one they have known on this earth. I have always envisioned a big rocking chair up in heaven in which dad sat rocking my babies until it was time for them to come to me. I like to think he knew them before I did because in the end, I know that my father believed in Jesus. Knowing this comforts me because I know that he is now there. With Him.
Without the pain that consumed most of his earthly life. Without the need for alcohol or cigarettes. He is just at peace with the Father who created him.
This is enough for me to know. This is enough.
Happy 65th Birthday, Dad. You are missed. You are loved. But I am so happy you are where you are and the pain is now gone.
I’m linking up today with Jen from “Finding Heaven” for the wonderful Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood. This is one fantastic group of women. I know that I say that every week, but wow. Go see for yourself.
Wow, you know this makes me think, Jesus can make ashes out of beauty. You have come from quite a background and yet you love and serve Jesus so fervently. Also the love you share thru this post for your father is because of the LOVE you have for Jesus. It is a beautiful thing, and you show so much grace….this is a real example of what we should be as a true follower of our Jesus. Thanks for sharing this again, I loved it!
.-= marlece´s last blog ..It is official! =-.
Oh, yes. He weaves a beautiful crown of rubies from the ashes alright.
I so love our God and I so love to serve Him and I so love His grace when I mess up, which is often.
Thank you for your encouraging words, Marlece!
Natalie,
You have truly touched me with your words about your father. As I sit in my living room reading your story about your father (crying, of course), I can’t help but think that my own daughter may struggle with these feelings of her own father (my ex husband). You are truly an angel amung us, thank you so much for sharing this!
Robyn
Robyn, thank you for your words. Let there be hope in your soul in knowing that I had a beyond-wonderful mother who was not perfect, no, but fiercely protective of me and despite our topsy-turvy life, she worked to keep things as normal and stable as possible. It’s hurtful when your dad is not present and I know all about the statistics but it is absolutely possible to raise her to be a healthy young woman. The fact that you express your concern so honestly tells me she is in good hands.
Thank you again for reading and for your beyond-kind words.
My sweet friend..what I wish the most for you is that your Dad would have just one day with your kids. But he will have eternity with them.
I hope you’re having a good week, I’ve thought of you often. Talk to you soon.
xo,
Erin
Oh you so always have a way to phrase things so simply and yet your words never fail to bring a huge amount of comfort to me – remember when you said I had been “washed by the water”? So simple and so true – it completely stuck.
And now this…This has made my mind go off on crazy tangents – what would we do if we were given one day with my father? I just love to think about it.
Let’s talk soon – I have been thinking of you as well!
You know, I pulled up your post to read before I had to take Hannah to school. I saw the picture, knew that you dad had died, and decided that perhaps later was better. So, here I am, after my run, taking in all these words. I am so glad that you told this story, word-perfect, or not, because not only does it communicate the precious message of your father’s life, but because I get to know you better, friend. You are a sweet soul, and I am so glad to be connected to you through this space.
.-= Jen´s last blog ..Boy- You Make Me Work =-.
Likewise, Jen. It has been a gift from Him to be connected with you.
Ohhh, look at how sweet you look. I love that picture.
As I was reading this, I was holding my breath. I knew how it was going to end, but I held my breath any way. My mom was an alcholic until I was 19. I never thought I would know her sober, but she is now, and she has been for a long, long time. So no, it’s “Never too late. Never.”
I’m glad you didn’t change anything about the post. It’s perfect.
.-= Amy Sullivan´s last blog ..I Want to be in a Flash Mob =-.
I’m not sure how sweet I was – I think that was in the height of my “rebellious years”…:)
Praise be to God for sobriety! These sober years you have with your mother are a gift. Blessings to you though for if she didn’t become sober until you were 19, you undoubtedly experienced some pain as well. I’m so sorry for that. And yet look at you! He delights in you.
Thanks for reading, friend.
This made me cry. As someone who has a relationship with my dad this touched my heart in so many ways. I could feel your pain…and your hope. This is beautiful and I am so glad you shared it with us again.
I am so glad we met in this crazy world of blogging :)
.-= Christy´s last blog ..The Candy Shop – Watch It Now and Vote! =-.
I always secretly envied girls who had that daddy-daughter relationship but you know, through God’s provision, I had a stepfather who very much stepped into a much-needed father role from the ages of 12 – now. Still not the same but did give me a small glimpse of what that relationship could be.
Fathers are integral in their daughter’s lives – there is no denying that. You are so blessed to have your father!
Likewise, my friend. The pleasure has been all mine and yet I know He decided long ago that we should know each other. I love Him more and more when I meet people like you who come into my life.
Wow. So much I want to say here; so much of it I’m sure would be profoundly inadequate. Let me just say, I think you’ve honored your dad well here, telling his story with all its ugliness, and then going on to show the power of the gospel in his life. Stories like this remind me that it’s all true–Jesus, the baby in the manger, the gospel, healing redemption. It’s all, all true. Thanks be to God! Stopped over from Jen’s today. Saturday is my bloggy anniversary. And, coincidentally, the day my father died. Blessings to you.
.-= Nancy´s last blog ..Chesterton- Lucy- Ethel and Santa =-.
Oh, yes. It’s all so true. The power of the gospel is beyond comprehension yet it happens many times each day.
That is ironic – I began blogging on my father’s birthday and you on the anniversary of your father’s death. Fathers are monumental in the life of a child.
Thank you for your kind words, Nancy!
i’m really grateful you reposted this. backstories, hard stories, sad stories create such a real beauty. i treasure hearing stories like these from bloggers i read because it helps me understand so much more about them. thank you!
.-= Andrea´s last blog ..Our Wandering Home =-.
Thanks, Andrea! We all have a story to tell and if you look closely, His hand is all over it.
Oh Natalie…
My mama died of cancer 8 years ago last May…and I relate to even how the time will go and you don’t wake up remembering it’s their birthday…my Dad flew down to see me with my stepmom on her birthday and he hadn’t remembered til I told him. I won’t tell my sisters…but (tongue in cheek) it wasn’t too, too different from when she was alive;)
All the other stuff…so much here…what I see most is the amazing heart of compassion that you have…and i look that picture in Heaven before the babies come…and how they are free from all of the stuff that plagued them here…it is beautiful…
i am so thankful to have this window into a deep place in your heart…you are priceless, ‘mommy on fire’:):):)
.-= Abby´s last blog ..My Story His Story God’s Story- Part 1 =-.
i meant i ‘love’ that picture in Heaven you paint…
.-= Abby´s last blog ..My Story His Story God’s Story- Part 1 =-.
I am also glad you didn’t change anything in the story. This is my first time linking up ever…I just read your story and I am moved beyond words. Not sure yet what to say. I am in a similar situation minus the alcohol…his dad was an alcoholic. We have been going through such crazy stuff over the last 10 years and I am afraid to leave…although I think I am going to have to this time.
My two youngest kids want me to and…ugh! I know NO situation is without struggle and pain and loss…I grew up without a father also..
I just like to hear that women can make it out and not just survive but overcome…with their children and walk in faith etc. I’m writing a book…sorry. Just … thankyou and my heart hurts for your loss and the depth of your wanting your children to see their grandpa…eternity!!