Happy Birthday From Your Little Girl

He holds my hand. 

The hand that is still strong. 

Yet works no more. 

I look at him. 

This man that gave me life. 

This man that has been my confidant, advocate, role model and father. 

I gaze into his eyes. 

He's still so handsome. 

He smiles and kisses me. 

He's happy. 

Content. 

He knows no pain or ache. 

I say, "Let's walk for a bit."

He shuffles. 

Reminders for him to pick up his feet. 

I bristle. 

This once fiercely independent, stubborn man. . . shuffles. 

I choke back the sobs that threaten to erupt. 

Oh this life on earth can weigh you down. 

Heap upon heap of sorrow. 

Rough spots seeming to last far longer than the soul can handle. 

We turn the corner. 

He says hi to a person walking by. 

Gone is the anger and frustration he once exhibited. 

I pray as we walk. 

For the nurses and doctors. 

For the caregivers and food staff. 

A thankless job. 

Pouring life into folks who may or may not say thank you. 

Who might take a swing at you. 

I think on this as we stroll. 

Soon, the walking slows. 

He's tired. 

He clearly is ready to go back to his chair. 

I hug him. 

The 2 littlest farm girls hug him. 

The littlest holds his hand and helps him into his chair. 

She is soft and gentle. 

She connects with him well. 

I turn to leave. 

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow. -Shakespeare

I leave him and head to the elevator. 

I have a party to attend and business at my parents house. 

There is no time for sorrow or self pity. 

I stand up taller. 

I thank God for all the years I have had with my dad. 

I thank God that he suffers not. 

He is in good hands. 

He is content. 

Phillipians 4:12

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

I will not let the weight drag me down. 

This too has passed through the hand of the One who called us into being. 

These steps are for a mightier purpose. 

I pick my feet up higher as I walk. 

I am conscious of my posture. 

We are all children of the King. 

The One who loves and adores us. 

The One who made it possible for us to stand before Him for all of eternity. 

Won't you lay down those burdens. 

Shed that weight. 

Happy Birthday Dad. 

You are forever my hero. 

Mom loved this song. 

She traded her sorrow. 

She lived while she was dying. 

I hope you can trade your sorrow. 

Trade your shame. 

Stand on the unshakable ground. 

I'm Trading My Sorrow