Tuesday, February 2, 2010

4 years...4 words

It's almost been 2 months since I've posted. I haven't had internet at home since before Christmas. Which reminds me, late Merry Christmas to you all. Happy New Year, too! I hope that this new year has brought many new blessings to you all.

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Four years ago today my dad went to be with Jesus in Heaven. He fought for life for three weeks but on February 2, 2006 at 2:45 p.m., my dad lost that fight. I remember him everyday of my life without him, but today especially. I take this day off from any corporate business, but if I do work, I babysit. The kids are so calming to me and give me a strength and a love that cannot be duplicated. The kids just make life spring out of me. They have no worries. They don't have anything holding them back in life. Hopefully, they haven't had anything happen to them like what happened to me. But then again, how would they know, depending on how young they are. They have such a joy and zest for life that many of us in this world would be blessed to encounter. I am blessed to encounter that every week.

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I'm so thankful for my dad. He taught me a considerable amount of lessons in life. But, he taught me a phrase that has stuck with me since the first day he said it.

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"Remember Whose you are."

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I remember I was going on a class trip, Vicksburg, VA, I believe. My mom was taking me to meet the bus and before I left, Dad pulled me aside and uttered those four amazing words, "Remember Whose you are". And I knew from that day, that phrase would stay with me and be my life's motto for as long as I lived. I knew even then, I would say it to my children. My dad kept saying it over and over. "God is always with you. Remember Whose you are. Be aware of how you're perceived. Remember Whose you are." I can't thank him enough for being that amazing example in my life.

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Just after midnight this morning, I was remembering where I was at that time. I was at home sleeping, I'm sure. But I was trying to figured out where in the process I was--what had happened the day before (Feb 1, 2006). I can remember that I went to school that day. I just finished lunch and tried to call my mom to see how Dad was doing, but my phone wasn't working. I went with Malia to call from the school's office. Mom picked up and I could hear in her voice a fear that I had never heard before. She said, "He's not doing well. Dale and Tori are coming to pick you up to bring you here." Dale and Tori were and still are good friends of ours. My dad and Dale were good friends. They went hunting together some and what bonds men more than hunting? But anyway, I basically just said, ok and hung up the phone after a dramatic "I love you".

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I filled Malia and my best friends Sarah and Sadie in on what was happening and asked them to tell my teachers I wouldn't be in class for the rest of the day. So, I gathered my stuff and went outside to wait on Dale. Tori's van pulled up and I heard a voice calling my name. It was my english teacher Teresa Walker. She is a completely incredible woman who scooped me up in her arms and said "The rest of my day's classes will be spent in prayer for you and your family. I love you baby girl. Everything is going to be okay." At that moment I started crying (even remembering it, tears stream down my face) and she just held me there for a few minutes it felt like. When I finally gained my strength, Tori hugged me and we were on our way to the hospital. And honestly, I have no memory of that particular ride.

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I do remember getting up in the room where my dad was in ICU. He had tubes sticking out of him and I didn't quite understand. I found out later that he was hooked up to a ventilator to keep the stress off of his heart. The doctor came in and told us he only had 24 hours to live. And despite the horrible news, I had sweet moments with a few people there.

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The next day I woke up and wanted to go to school but Mom insisted th

at I go to the hospital with her. We were at the hospital for most of the day, but after lunch my aunt (Dad's sister) offered to take me home to clean our house up a little bit. I was about to leave, but I remember going up to my dad's bed and stroked his cheek and said, "Daddy, I'm going home. I love you." He blinked hard several times, holding back tears. I turned away, trying not to cry, when my aunt said, "He mouthed 'I love you too'." I cried on the way home. But, after a while of cleaning up, I went to school to pick up some homework. The carpool line was ridiculously long, so I had to wait to get up to the high school. I remember looking at the clock and 2:45 and feeling this indescribable peace flood me. And I heard a little whisper, "It's all going to be ok, I'm here". I knew it was God's small voice.

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Class was out when I finally parked my car and got out. People started come up to me from the gym, especially from my class, telling me that they were praying for me and my family. I thanked them and went into the building. Waiting there for me was my English teacher, Teresa Walker, my choir director, Jani Quay, my friends, Sarah, Sadie, Brooke, Becky, Marla, Katie, Julielle, Kappie, and my friend’s pastor, Charles Chamblee. After lots of tears, Mrs. Walker convinced me that I needed to be with my family. She took me in her car to the hospital and by the time I got there; all of my family and best friends were there in the waiting room. I was overwhelmed by the amount of people who cared for me and my mom.

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But, before I could greet them all, I was brought back to the ICU. The doors opened and my mom was standing at the nurses station, which was very strange because she had always been in Dad's room. I walk up to her and our hug lasts a minute before I can ask, "Is he gone?" My mom confirmed the news and the tears started flowing. I couldn't believe it. He was dead and would never breathe on this earth again. But all I could do right then was praise God for his life. All I wanted to do, was go into the waiting room and hug all my family and laugh with my friends. And I did. They were all so sweet to wait. I called a few people to let them know that he passed. But it was just a time to be thankful. And I am, every day of my life.

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Thank you to everyone who has been there. I love you all.

-katie

1 comment:

Brooke said...

I love this picture of your dad. There's only one word for it...Narf!