I’m riding out the storm in my car.
My husband and I fought, and the fear hounds fierce, so I take keys with trembling lips, my eyes a dam ready to blow. No one warned us marriage could be this hard, this quick – a nonstop flight from wedding fiesta to furnace, no layover in honeymoon bliss. On my way to the door, he catches me, looks me in the eyes, says he loves me so much even though the anger’s hot. But I drop my gaze, mumble a weak “I love you, too.” I can’t flee fast enough.
One mile down the road, I pull into the park’s lot, far from the one car that remains. The engine dies and I howl with the wind bending trees outside my door. Fingers on the phone, I wonder who to call in this state of hysteria. And I am hysterical. Better not inflict this on anyone. Better not call someone who needs an explanation, when I don’t really know myself. I drop the phone and my head against the steering wheel. The only one I know to call is my Dad. He’s the only one who will understand.
It’s Father’s Day, and my dad’s nearly four years dead. But I know another Dad who will answer.
I rifle through CDs, desperate to find the one I need. It’s all scratched up in a homemade paper envelope, but I think it’s the one. I slip it in and wait. The music of the first song slices the aching silence that holds my wailing, and I know my Dad has answered the call.
One thing I know that I have found
Through all the troubles that surround
You are the Rock that never fails
You never fail
One thing I know that I believe
Through every blessing I receive
You are the only One that stays, You always stay
You never change, You’re still the same
You are the Everlasting God
You will remain after the day is gone and things of earth have passed
I’m here an hour and a half, reclining in my seat, weeping and singing, praying and resting. I watch the wind whip the trees, the light slowly fading as day prepares its bed. A familiar peace seeps into my heart, a voice on the wind whispering, Be still, child. I am here. Tense muscles and swollen eyes relax into invisible arms. I am not alone here. Not anywhere.
He comforts me through song,through wind, through silence. There’s no other place I want to be; I am as an infant soothed in his arms. And finally I know, that he’s got us in his hands – both of us – as he has the whole world. I’m crying now for love, for the Father who loves me fierce and steady and true. I love him because he loved me first. I love him because he’ll never leave. I love him because, no matter how bad it gets, this world is not all there is. He has not left us as orphans.
Words from long ago resound in my heart, bringing the night full circle: “And they will call him ‘Immanuel,’ which means ‘God is with us’ (Matthew 1:23)… And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).
Yes, he is all these things – and infinitely more – in less than two hours. I can return home.
I step inside the door, my husband rises from his seat and opens his arms, and we embrace in messy love.
Thank you, Dad.
By Amber Cadenas, Beautiful RubbishLeave a Comment