Dear Dad (Father's Day 2014)

Dear Dad,

I don't think about you as often as I used to. There's no longer the searing pain in my heart that was there when you first died. But this weekend, it's always hard. It was yours.

Even after we started our own family, my husband enjoyed your Father's Day tradition. So we continued it with you and it became his. This is the 7th Father's Day we're celebrating without you. It's been difficult to find my bearings without you here.

Just yesterday, we still had our zoo day. It wasn't on Father's Day itself, but it was close enough. Old Country Buffet lost its appeal a little more each year without you. So eating breakfast there never even came on our radar this year. We just ate our first meal of the day at home.

Andelise Randall is a few months shy of 6-years-old. Her name is a reminder to me that she never met you, her Papa. (She shares your middle name.) Her excitement for the day could not be contained! "Tell me when we see the signs!" Every sign indicating the way to the zoo built up the anticipation.

We got to Brookfield Zoo right as it opened, just as you taught us. It's not the same zoo, however. (Was the carousel even there before you died? I don't think so.) The bears are no longer in the same location. Although I suppose we should be thankful they still have bears. Ande wanted to go there first but I thought the children's zoo would be better. Bad idea. They've destroyed that as well.

I loved going to the children's zoo with you! It seemed you were so relaxed there. It was always so nice to spend time with you when you'd allow yourself to just rest. We took our time. There was never a hurry.

Dad holding me at the Children's Zoo with my siblings

What a disappointment that they closed the children's zoo! (I supposed if I really thought about it, I was probably informed by a friend that it was closed but still... It appears it is a thing of the past and it saddens my heart.) I informed the employee, that came over to explain the area was under construction, of my disappointment. It seems there is always more construction and less animals every time we visit Brookfield Zoo! If it weren't for your tradition, I think I'd turn to Lincoln Park instead. (At least there are no expectations there for me.)

We went and saw the bears. Jaycie took over my camera and snapped pictures of everything she could... including herself. I've got to learn how to quit being disappointed when my expectations aren't met and just enjoy the moment. I'm like you in that way, Daddy.

We decided to leave the zoo to eat lunch at Russell's. I know you'd always charge ahead to see every animal possible and then reward us with Russell's for dinner but changing this up worked well for my family. (Nikelle, who will be 12 later this month, was especially happy because her lunch at the zoo on a recent school field trip left her pooped on by a bird. Her one request was that we didn't eat lunch outside.) We didn't have to stress over finding a parking space or finding a table. Lunch was enjoyable.

While I now understand well why we didn't get a choice of what we'd order growing up, I let my girls choose. Ande ordered a hamburger. The rest of us would have made you happy as we each chose the 1/2 barbecue chicken meal. I was surprised Nikelle and Jaycie made that choice but it was the right one!

I wish I had my camera inside with me to take a picture of our little 8-year-old blondie gobbling up her meal. (We're still behind the time with our old phones that don't capture pictures like new technology does these days.) That girl enjoyed every bite of that chicken to the bone! We aren't even sure how she managed to fit it inside her little body! She was a mess with the tasty Russell's barbecue sauce all over her hands and face.

I could hear your laugh inside my head. You would have responded with such joy over this simple moment: Your granddaughter, devouring the adult-sized meal you so enjoyed as well! My heart was full as my eyes fought back tears. I still miss you.

We drove back to the zoo which brought us past a Menards. That store will always be identified with you. I rarely step foot into on because my heart still twists every time.

Then I knew it was coming... I decided that I would point out that stupid place to my girls this time: Loyola Hospital. I wish there was no story to tell but I told it. "Girls, this is the hospital that tried to help keep your Papa alive." It frustrates me that there's no emotions in my girls hearts over any of it because I still wrestle with it against my will. (They were 5, 2 and in the womb when you died. How could I expect them to feel any emotion when Nikelle struggles to remember you?)

Their daddy begins to tell stories about the many trips his grandparents spent at that hospital. He tells an account of how his Grandma broke a record with the size of a tumor doctors pulled out of her stomach there. I know he has his own stories but I'm still wrestling with demons as he tells his light-hearted story. I'm frustrated that I even have a story to identify with that hospital.

I try to wrap up my feelings as I inform the girls of a more tangible part of the story for them. "Your Grams spent many an uncomfortable night sleeping in that hospital caring for your Papa." That was that. My mind went to my cousin who is spending time with her 8-year-old daughter in a hospital in Michigan trying to determine why the little girl is in so much pain. I prayed for her as we went back to the zoo.

We saw the penguins despite Ande's aversion to the noise of the giant splashing wave. I assured her she didn't have to be scared. Memories take me back to the times you'd find great joy in positioning each of your grandchildren under the clear glass and wait with them for what you knew would catch them by surprise. Unknowingly, they would listen to their Papa only to jump when the wave crashed on the glass. You'd laugh and we'd join in because your laugh was always contagious.

Our girls enjoy the Hamill Family Play Zoo. It costs extra money, so I don't think you ever set foot on the inside of it. Nikelle helped Ande paint her face as a pink bunny and Jaycie enjoyed drawing art on her own arms. At the end of our day, Andelise braved touching a Boa Constrictor in the same type of setting we would have had opportunity to pet the pony at the children's zoo.

I suppose it didn't end our day - just our time at the zoo. We still followed the tradition of making the trek to The Plush Horse for some ice cream. We just were able to enjoy it a bit more since we weren't stuffed with barbecue chicken immediately prior to going. My girls each enjoyed one scoop of ice cream each. Yes, only one scoop. I know you'd never hear of anything less than a double scoop. Don't worry, Rod and I still enjoyed two flavors each. (And the girls couldn't even finish what they had.)

Anyway, thanks for having big expectations. At times, as a kid, it was difficult to sit by as you wrestled with the disappointment you experienced. As an adult, however, who struggles in the same way, I'm thankful your expectations were big. You simply wanted to give your children the full enjoyment of the things that brought you pleasure. They do, Dad. We do. Your grandkids do, too.

And I look forward to enjoying Heaven with you one day too.

Your Grateful Daughter,

Tristi

An Invitation

This post is part of the  “Finding Spiritual Whitespace Blog Tour” which I am a part of, along with a group of soulful, journeying kindreds. To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE!  

“When we make room for whitespace… We uncover layers of ourselves we had to put to the side in order to deal with the stress at hand.” - Bonnie Gray, Finding Spiritual Whitespace

I have been burying sorrows (and even happiness) during the past 9 years or so “in order to deal with the stress at hand”. Seasons of a husband travelling all the time, raising daughters, dads dying of cancer, training for races, taking care of the home, building friendships… Life quickly has a way of pushing everything else aside as it demands our focus. There’s no time to sort through emotions, feelings, thoughts, problems, or even celebrations. Each day is faced by putting one foot in front of the other because we have to. For the first time in a long time, I feel free to explore the past. Life’s storm clouds have lifted just enough to take pause and breathe and just be.

More than anything, I have been learning to nurture my soul. God has been whispering to my heart the importance of guarding moments of rest. And I really believed I was responding well to His promptings. In reading the new book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace Awakening your Soul to Rest, by (in)courage contributor, Bonnie Gray, I was surprised at how much louder the importance of His message would become.

The early morning hours are mine. These are the moments no one else makes demands of my schedule. It’s a short period in the day rarely disrupted. Outside of this protected time, life feels defined by interruptions. If I can successfully tip toe down the stairs quietly, there is a peaceful calm that greets me. Any little noise, however, could cause my 5-year-old to bolt out of bed so as not to miss any moment of the day. Should my morning start with the greeting of a tired little girl, my time will never be easily recovered. I must be swift and intentional but I am learning even a few moments of rest are worth fighting for. Rest is now a daily rendezvous with quiet where God invites me to hear His voice that I long for more and more.

It’s me and silence (if I can quiet the thoughts in my head). This has not always been a comfortable place to rest. I have thought “rest” was emptying my mind or even replacing the noise in my head with the blare of the television. Now I am realizing that “rest” is found in giving everything on my mind to God. I cast my cares on Him by giving Him each thought and allowing Him to free me from the bondage I often create in my head. In pursuing rest, I am finding peace and freedom… and I want it more and more.

I used to utilize every possible moment to sleep in. Raising tiny children will invoke that desire in a person. When one cannot get a decent night’s rest, the mind is easily convinced to pursue every moment of shut eye it can get. Sleep still entices me as my body and mind are exhausted most of the day. It feels as though I can never truly get enough sleep but I’m learning that rest for my body can never bring rest for my soul.

There have been other seasons of my life where I used the early morning hours for exercise. Rolling out of bed, I would immediately dress myself for a run and get the miles in. It felt a bit robotic but it got me the physical utopia I was hoping for. It is still tempting to start my days that way especially because my body is not the epitome of healthiness it could be. Yet physical health can never cure an unhealthy soul.

Today I woke up early, remaining dressed for sleep but inviting my soul to awaken with God. I sit with my Bible and notebook along with my favorite current read and open my heart and mind to a Voice greater than the ones scrolling through my brain. Here I find the rest I am longing for. This allows me to seek health for my whole person. It begins right here in the quiet place of rest alone with God.

As long as I bury life under the layers, I will never find the good health I am working for. I want a quality life more than I want the quantity of years. This is where I start. I invite Him in. Are you willing to invite Him in?

“He’s calling us to find a new place of rest that goes beyond our ability to create it.” – Bonnie Gray

“You desire truth in the inner being; make me therefore to know wisdom in my inmost heart.” – Psalm 51:6 (AMP)

Bonnie Gray is the writer behind Faith Barista.com who wrote a book about her inspiring, heart-breaking journey to find rest, which garnered Publisher’s Weekly starred review. I’m taking the journey to find rest through this guidebook and invite you to read it too.  You can get a copy HERE.

(NOTE: I know that a good night's sleep and exercise are important. This is not to diminish their importance. It is just a warning that even good things can get in the way of soul rest.)

My Review of Mom's Night Out

The first time I viewed the film, Mom’s Night Out, was at a preview during the 2014 Hearts at Home Conference in Bloomington, Illinois. Sitting in a room filled with moms from all across the spectrum, laughter and tears dominated. I was left encouraged and entertained anticipating opening day in the theaters.

When opening weekend hit, I gathered two groups of friends to watch the movie. Whether we were a large group of 10 or an intimate group of 3, moms from different seasons of life connected over this presentation. Each time, the movie spurred laughs and heartfelt emotions that were very authentic.

After having seen the show 3 times, I still felt the need to return to the theater once more with my husband. Now that I’ve watched it with him, I finally feel like I’ve had my fill. Hearing his laughter validated the relevance of the flick. I wasn’t just some crazy stay-at-home mom connecting only because I was in desperate need of some time away. My husband’s response confirmed the reality that our life paralleled with the main characters of the movie on so many levels.

Sure, everything in this film is taken a bit to the extreme. That’s usually how comedies work, isn’t it? Each moment is just relatable enough to play with the heartstrings. All the while, each scene is taken to the point where every mind over exaggerates the situation but never quite experiences in effort to brings forth the laughs.

The movie comes from the perspective of the main character, Allyson: a stay-at-home mom. Her mind works very similarly to the way mine operates in real life… as well as that of the many other moms I know (stay-at-home, working part-time or full-time aside). This was the BEST movie I’ve seen in a long time. Hollywood needs to produce more movies like this and “movie critics” should find some perspective from those of us who live it out every day.

Allyson expresses the sum of her feelings: “I can’t. No matter how hard I try or how much I give. I’m not enough.”

These were the lines that brought me to tears the first time I watched “Mom’s Night Out” because it's how I feel. I’m not a stay-at-home mom because I’m forced to be. My vocation in life is a choice. Just like any choice, we sometimes need a reminder that what we do is important.

The difference between being in the workforce and choosing to find your identity in your role at home is in the validation. In the corporate world, we are given performance reviews and receive pay checks. While my job earlier in life was “only” that of a legal secretary, I was respected in the work I did. My boss, other attorneys, loan officers, realtors and even clients endorsed my efforts. These days, voices come at me from every angle as to how I do not measure up.

Don’t get me wrong. My husband supports me and encourages me. I love my kids and I have a purpose outside of raising my children and cleaning my home. Still, it’s not the same as being in the workplace. Having my husband notice all my hard work and sacrifice isn’t the same as the affirmation of a boss or colleague or even a pay check or other type of reward.

A couple of characters in the movie find themselves mesmerized by an “Eagle cam”. They stare endlessly at a Momma Eagle taking care of her babies. Towards the end of the movie, I found myself taken by surprise with some encouragement as an unlikely source.

“He loves you. No matter who you are or what you do or how far you run. Jesus will always love you with His arms open wide. Just for being you. It’s a beautiful thing watching one of God’s creation do just what He created it to do. And that’s enough.”

No matter how loudly the outside world shouts, don’t let them guilt or deceive you. Being a stay-at-home mom is a worthy profession. It’s our job to raise the next generation.

“I’m a mess. But I’m a beautiful mess. I’m His masterpiece and that’s enough!”

Don’t listen to the critics. Get out and see Mom’s Night Out. This movie is worth every penny!

My Submission Story

I like to be in control.

To the extreme.

One time my pastor gave a sermon on “How to live with the Control Freak in your Life”… it ended up in my mailbox… to this day I don’t know who put it there.

Seriously.

Extreme is probably a good word to define me. Although passionate is the word I would choose to paint myself in a slightly better light. I think I’ve always been this way.

Upcoming events leave me filled with great anticipation or terrible dread. When something doesn’t meet my expectations, I tend to be highly disappointed. Sadly, everyone around me knows it too. I have a difficult time containing my emotions.

Today is the Third Thursday of the month which means it is time for the Hearts at Home blog Hop. I’ve been thinking all day about the topic “Love Your Story”. I wrote about it for the past (in) RL conference a couple months ago. You can read part of my story here. The question on my mind was “What part of my ‘story’ should I be sharing today?”

The other day I posted Psalm 37:4 as my Facebook status: "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart."

For quite some time now, my husband has been a slave to his job. Unfortunately, it has just been getting worse as time goes on. More work. More travel. Less family. Less anything that isn’t work related. He just met a major project deadline. Instead of receiving appreciation for his hard work, he received more deadlines. He came home from work and informed me of all the deadlines and demands that were being placed on him. It seemed like there wasn’t an end in sight.

What he didn’t know was that a phone call came for him that day from a company he had interviewed with about a year and a half ago. We had declined their offer at the time because it would have involved a serious pay cut. God now was laying this job in his lap. We were confident this was His deliverance for us all the while not wanting to assume we knew God’s plans for our future.

“Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” My husband just got vacation time reinstated at work. (For almost a year, there has been no time off outside of holidays.) He already had days scheduled for vacation when he received the call for an interview. The first day off now became an interview day. And while we had hoped he would receive an immediate offer and be able to quit his current high demanding job, we were thankful he had a couple days off of work.

Uncertain if a job offer would come his way, he returned to work. Meetings informed him that his bosses were not only talking about sending him out-of-state again but out-of-the-country as well. That’s when the job offer came through. God’s timing is always perfect. He was offered more than we had expected with zero travel and minimal overtime. God delivered us from a depressing situation.

When my husband resigned from his job today, he was asked what they could do to change his mind. While it must feel wonderful to him to have such expressions, he confidently turned them down. His desires are lined up with God’s. It isn’t about how much money he makes or what position they can give him. He works as a means to provide for our needs. He doesn’t live to work. There’s a big difference and I am so grateful that God gave me this man.

My mom commented on my Facebook post: “As we are delighting the Lord... in His Word... in His Truth... in His Way... His desire becomes the desire of our hearts.” Tonight it settled into my heart how very much this has become my story.

A year and a half ago, when my husband was offered a low ball position with his soon-to-be employer, I discouraged him from taking the job. I was unwilling to submit to his decision. I couldn’t see how we could keep our current standard of living if he took such a substantial reduction in income. I was unwilling to trust my husband. More than that, I was unwilling to trust God. I’ve wondered ever since if we would have avoided this stress if I had just submit to my husband.

Very recently, I cried to my friend. “I’m willing to take whatever kind of pay cut necessary to have him home again. I hate seeing him so consumed with work. He’s miserable and we aren’t able to fully live the way we want.” Money all of a sudden wasn’t so important to me. Work had become the chains he wore and they had imprisoned our entire family. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was my fault. And yet God softened my heart and allowed me to learn through the pain.

Just this past week, my husband had a large tree in our backyard cut down. It’s been a burden on his heart to have it taken down for years now. I’ve resisted because it was a beautiful fully grown tree that hid a giant utility pole in our yard. Now there is only an eye sore.

I explained to him that I knew the tree had to come down. I was just highly disappointed. He was grateful for the reassurance that I trusted his decision.

When I took my daughter to the bus stop later that morning, the neighbor at the end of the street had a full grown tree split in two that had fallen into the street. My girls asked me why the tree broke. I informed them that it broke for the same reason their Daddy wanted our tree taken down. It was just another clear message from God that I can trust the rules He puts on my life. I can trust my husband’s decisions.

My husband is seeing the movie “Irreplaceable” tonight with a friend. The only reason he could agree to go was because this new job came through. Otherwise he would be working long hours once again tonight as he has been for a very long season. My husband is a gift from God.

My selfish desires are not for the best. How many times will this lesson have to repeat itself? I always think I know best. I hope God will remind me of this story the next time I think it’s my way or the highway.

“Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” This doesn’t mean that He will grant us our every wish as though He is our magic genie. It means that He will align our desires to match His desires. We will be able to clearly see His active presence in our lives.

I've never been one to be very good at submitting to my husband. It feels good to be in control and I have some apparent trust issues. It’s taking time and I know I still have much more to learn... but I think I can say that I’m finally willing to give the pen over to God and let Him write His story on my heart. 

His plans are always best.

(Head over to Jill's blog to see what other women have to say on loving their stories.)

Part of a Bigger Story

I gathered with a group of about 20 women on Saturday to share the chronicles of our lives. The attendance of each woman thrilled my soul because I passionately believe that our stories, together, are better. God writes our narratives and wants to overlap them, blend them and fuse together the details to point us simultaneously to Him. And while I was excited to discuss our personal histories, stories swirled in my heart and mind of my Grandfather. He was going to meet Jesus any moment.

Yesterday, I gathered with family and friends to share stories about my Grandpa. I stood up to speak first at his funeral service because I was encouraged to. More than that though, it's because I believe there is power in the sharing of our stories. It was a glimpse of how this short, little Italian man of God impacted my life.

Then I sat and listened to account after account of how Joseph A. Grimaldi's story bettered the lives of those he encountered. I could have stayed in conversation forever. It never ceases to completely amaze me the way God works. Every tale gave a deeper view into who Grandpa Joe was. His story became bigger as each person spoke.

Us grandkids with Grandpa & Grandma

You see, I knew how Grandpa Grimaldi impacted my life. I lived it. However, it was in the sharing that I saw how Grandpa's life influenced everyone he knew. He and my Grandma were intentional in their relationships. They knew how God loved them and they lived that out in the way they interacted with everyone around them. It was evident.

Reminiscing confirmed in my heart that without the stories of others intermingled with mine, the plot is incomplete. We don't know the full story. That's why each person needs to being sharing their story. Every person's story is only a chapter of a greater story: God's story.

I always thought God's work in my life was enough. And it is... in a way. Knowing Jesus truly is more than enough. My life is richer because of Him. But it isn't fully complete. As Ann Voskamp said, "The answer to everything is relationship." God created us for relationship. With Him. With others. Because together, we're better.

Just as my Grandpa's story became clearer with each testimony, God's story works the same. We have to share God's working in our lives if we want to see the beautiful tapestry of His ultimate story unfold. We are told the beginning in Genesis and the ending has been revealed. Our lives fill in the rest of His story. You are part of it and you need to share it.

As you allow God to write His story on your heart, won't you be bold and share? Others need to hear it. It is in the sharing of our stories, we see a more complete picture of our God.