Does God show up for orphans?

I had planned to get started training today for the 100 mile bike race.  I was going to do 40 miles with a friend in one stretch to see if I could make it.  This would be my first step on my 8 week training plan, and my first real test to see if the 100 mile race was doable for this old guy.

Life seemed to have other plans.  Last night I got wrapped up in a home improvement project and ended up not going to bed until about 2 am.  Also, I was fighting a virus, perhaps the Strep that my son, Liam, has.  My friend texted to say he was sick too.  My plan was to start the ride at 7 am, but clearly that was unrealistic.  "Let me just not set the alarm and see what happens," I thought.  "Maybe, I will just do a shorter ride or none at all." 

At about 6:45 am, I awoke to the gentle sounds and sunshine of Spring.  Unable to sleep, I dragged myself out of bed and into my sweats.  I made my latest breakfast sandwich (peanut butter on toast with a whole bunch of walnuts and honey). A few raisins or cranberries would have made it better, but it was enough to get me out of the house and onto my bike.  Stone-faced and robotic I moved like a machine stuck in a very low gear.

Then it happened.

Just several blocks from my house, I randomly asked God what was up with this ride?  As clear as crystal the answer came, "I just want to love you."  Tears come even now as I recall that Voice.  I can hardly describe it.  "But why?" I asked.  His candid response was, "No reason really, just because." 

I road on down to the bay.  It was a bright and brisk Spring morning.  Every several miles or so, the bike path rose to a bridge over a little river, road, channel, or swampy area.  As I crossed each bridge, out to the left I could see into the ocean bay.  The water glistened in the morning sun.  I saw a few ducks launch out across the water like overloaded single-engine de Havilland Otters taking off from Sioux Lookout waterfront.  In the quietness, it was as if God was painting a picture just for me.




When I was a depressed teenager, dad and I used to get up early on mornings like this.  We went jogging.  At age 15, I could already outpace him, a man of 55, but he never seemed to mind.  I think he kind of enjoyed it.  He would chuckle and act amazed when he was done, and I could still sprint the last half block or so home. Yes, it was mornings just like this one.

Then it came together for me. 

Why had I awakened after only 5 hours of sleep?  Why had I somewhat automatically decided to ride even though health and sanity would have said, "no?"

Really simple. My Father woke me up for a ride with Him.

Needless to say, I completed all the miles I attempted.  I feel like I could do another 40, but the miles aren't the point anymore. 

Through tears and more tears, I can only think of one thing . . .

I have a Father again.



Here's a song I like:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXsiWoyjw60

When does grief end?

Two days after dad passed away, Logan asked me, "When are you going to get over missing Grandpa?"

"I don't know.  I will probably always miss him."

"I know," he said, "but I was just wondering because my birthday is next month and my friends might say, 'What's wrong with your dad?'"

Its been four months now, so I ask myself, "When does grief end?"  The question both puzzles me and angers me at the same time.  Does it end?  What makes it end? Should it even end? It's like trying to measure love by using the yardstick of time.  Illogical at best, offensive at worst.

The journey of grief is like walking on a long winding road in the fog at night. Where are you going? How far have you come? When will you get there?  What is "there" anyway?  Sometimes it feels like you are going in the wrong direction?  Sometimes all you can do is plod aimlessly.

If only the journey would make sense!

And my situation is pretty straight forward and normal.  If any grief journey made sense, mine should. Most middle-aged folks lose their parents at some point.  The life cycle goes on.  I can't even imagine the complexity and depth of fog that others face -- like the family member of someone on the missing Malaysian airlines flight.  What about the family member of someone on death row? I can't even imagine the agony and pain of protracted grief.

So how can we make sense of it all.  Once when Jesus was asked about tragedy, he said it wasn't because of sin, but to bring glory to God (John 9:3).   At times, I thought this explanation to be devious.  God brings tragedy, so people can say how good a guy He is?!?! That sounds more like a "Cosmic Sadist," to borrow C.S. Lewis' term, than any kind of real explanation.

But I have been thinking about it in a different way lately.  If God is full of selfless love, love shown to Him only results in more love to the world.  We cannot out give God.  If that is true, Jesus statement really says. "This pain has a purpose, a good purpose."  It benefits the greater good.  It is not lost on the world.  It does something.  It matters. This is "meaning" and according to Victor Frankl, this is the key ingredient that enables folks to survive suffering.  If our pain has a point, it doesn't seem as painful.

To think that out of my experience something beautiful and significant could be made that would benefit God and people. That makes the fog lift a little.

Yesterday, I went on a bike ride.  The open road is the best place for me to think.  It is not so different from when I would take my little red bike with the banana seat across the street, past "the pond" and up "the mountain."  As the song says, "Life is a highway."

So I have this idea.  I want to do a 100 mile bike race for dad. I could raise money for ministries that matter.  It would give me an excuse to talk about dad.  I could be like Don Showalter when he wrote on the back of his biking shirt, "For Marilyn."  Something about that just seemed right.  I might even lose a little weight as a I train for it.  I could use the endorphins, too.  I am really getting excited about this.  Even though I am limping in pain today from having done 39 miles yesterday, I can't wait to do 100.  I am thinking I could easily do it before dusk. 

So when does grief end?

It doesn't.

But I am pretty sure the journey goes faster if you ride your bike.