Day Seven Hundred and Eighty-One

The First Year Without Daddy

When my dad was alive, he'd tell you just how much a sunrise meant to him. Rising from the East, in all it's glory, the sunrise meant another day. Another chance. Another treasure. Another memory. Hope. And victory. And courage. And life.

When my dad was diagnosed with brain cancer 13 years ago, he was given a 50% chance of living the first year. And a 20% chance of living the second. He lived twelve. 

Two things:

1) I believe - with every piece of my heart - in the perfect timing and sovereignty of the Lord. I believe that my Father in Heaven knew that my father on Earth needed twelve more years of life. He needed time to reconcile his family. He needed time to meet his grandson. He needed time to walk me down the aisle. To love on my sisters and take care of my grandmother. But most of all, he needed time to meet the Lord. And to accept him as his Savior. The day before he died, I believe that that's exactly what happened. Read it here, if you'd like. It still gives me goosebumps to reflect on the timing of his salvation. To know just how close the Lord always is. Always. And I believe that it took every single one of those "extra" twelve years for dad to say, "Yes." 

2) I believe a defeatist attitude breeds defeat. And that a confident attitude breeds confidence. If there's one thing I remember most about my dad, it's that he never gave in. He never gave up. And never once did I hear him complain. He never asked the question, "Why me?" But instead, "Why not me?" It's with that attitude that I pray to live my life. That when faced with unimaginable hardship, I can say no to defeat and say yes to another day. Yes to twelve more years of another day.

John Mays III

June 23, 1966 - October 31, 2012

Yesterday was hard.

Yesterday was a year.

And what a year it was.

I can't count how many times I screamed and cried and pleaded with the Lord to bring him back. For just one more kiss. Just one more goodbye. To make sure that he knew just how much I loved him. And how much he'd be missed. But more than that, I can't count how many times I rejoiced and praised and cried to the Lord for His faithfulness in loving my father back to Him. For bringing my family back together. For showing His goodness, joy, peace, and hope to a family of unbelievers. 

God, you are so good.

Yesterday, Adam and I - with heavy but joyful hearts - sent my daddy a gift in the sky.

It was our way of saying hi...

And telling him just how much he's missed.

I love you, Daddy. I love you with all my heart. And I miss you.