Restored

I have always heard that a little girl's first love is her father. He teaches her what she's worth and sets the standard for the type of companion that she will choose later in life.

I thought of him as Superman, nothing shy of being able to catch a speeding bullet and defend me from anything that would shatter my heart or feelings. I can recall some of my favorite moments with Daddy as being simple. I believed that he could fix anything from a wiggly tooth to any light that flashed on my dashboard; my go-to guy, was my Daddy. He was a pious, light-hearted, honorable, dependable and dedicated man.

There are so many memories that I could share about my Daddy, but one that currently gets me through my day happened February 2, 2018. Daddy had been transferred to UNC Hospital-Chapel Hill and as he and I sat in his room, he began to deliver a sermon. Normally, I would have reminded him that he was in a hospital room, but that day I didn't. I decided to simply listen. He told of how, like Job, he lost most of the things that he valued most, however, he never lost his joy and peace within. God continued to keep him and he knew that all would be restored. I never imagined that he would be preaching his last sermon that day.

Here I am thirty-three days after his death finding my "new normal". I am grateful for every single moment that I spent with Daddy. I may be wrong, but I am sure that he was grinning from ear to ear when he was reunited with Mama and those that had gone on before. I find myself at peace knowing that he received restoration!

"A father holds his daughter’s hand for a short while, but he holds her heart forever."