the word reverberates throughout my entire being. shakes me to the core. like a toxic waste turned skipping stone. like an ocean with an oil leak that stretches vast, and stretches thin those that go to clean the waters.

one word, and it’s a battle.

one diagnosis. and it’s time to fight.

he is the epitome of health. he never gets sick. not really.

doesn’t smoke. doesn’t drink copiously. he even stopped drinking sodas when he was a teenager. (seriously, who does that?) my dad.

he pays attention to what he eats. and, yes, sometimes that means a slice of cheesecake and an egg for breakfast. (but really, what’s wrong with that?)

he exercises. he drinks water. (and he’ll tell you to drink until you have to pee… and then drink some more.) he considers it the best medicine for most anything. – if it doesn’t work, try Windex.

he has taken dance lessons with my mom. and pilot lessons (for flying planes) with me.

he taught me to ride a bike on the sidewalk in Houston. and kept at it as i continued to fall over the uprooted and horridly cracked surface of the concrete.

and i learned. eventually.

he never used shame as punishment. because a look of hurt would hit harder than any form of reprimand- and its affects would last the longest.

he rides horses and bikes (but we all know which is better).

climbs fourteen thousand foot peaks.

sails oceans.

and loves toyota land cruisers.

a part of him is at home on the oceans and another part lives in the mountain ranges.

he sings. jimmy buffet and gary p. nunn. but he loves to abandon himself in worship before the footstool of the King. and who wouldn’t love that in a man?

he knows humility, and understands the folly of pride.

he’ll wake early to steep his soul deep in the Scriptures.

spends intentional time in prayer.

he doesn’t raise his voice in anger. not in all the twenty-four short years I have known him.

and, i could go on.

give me hours, and i could put down attribute after attribute describing the man God has blessed me with as my earthly father.

but how does child take care of parent? and what words of comfort or guidance can be offered from the offspring? and what is my place in all of this?

i am daughter. and sister. but also wife. and mother.

and what is my place in each of these roles?

and how do i trust?

and what do i pray?


so it’s time to fight. to arm the sentries.


“hop to it johnny hewitt.”

this chapter is just beginning.


One thought on “sixteen

  1. Pingback: a daddy’s day | joyful desperation

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