The Hardest Words to Say...

It is now Saturday Mar.21st here in Mororgoro and I have attempted to write this entry for close to three days. I have three drafts, none of which convey all that is in my heart. I pray now that the Lord will give me the words which, today, I find so incredibly hard to write...
Last Friday night on Mar.13th, I was laying on Riikka's bed visiting with her when my phone rang. When I saw that the caller was my mom, it was then that I remembered that I had actually talked to her when I was sick in the hospital with malaria. The only thing was that I didn't tell her that I was in the hospital nor did I mention the malaria. My mom has a tendency to worry and so I thought it best to wait until I was at least back at the school. I figured on Friday she was calling again to check up on me, but it was not to be. The voice that I found at the other end of the line was that of my brother. I knew when he said my name that he was choking back tears and that something was terribly wrong. Brett then proceeded to deliver the sad news that our dad had died. I don't know if I can really describe all that I felt in that moment. I don't even really remember what I said to him. I just remember hanging up crying and telling Riikka. She held me as lay stunned and in shock at the news of my fathers passing. It was then I had the thoughts of: "Was there anything that I wish I had told my daddy that I didn't get to? Did he know how much I loved him? Was there anything that went unresolved between us?" and so on. The amazing thing was the way that the Lord brought back every moment with my dad from the last 3 years since I planned to come to Africa. As I lay there on Riikka's bed the Lord's peace descended upon me and I knew that there was not one thing that had not gone unsaid or undone. The Lord in His providential wisdom and care had placed it in my heart to get everything said and done before I left the states for He knew the future far better than I.
In deciding to come to Africa as a missionary the biggest thing that I wrestled with was not being home if one of my parents were to pass away. The thought of it seemed, at many times during those three years of fund raising, to be almost unbearable and I cried many tears in the states just coming to terms with the possibility of it. I slowly came to accept the fact that it was indeed a possibility and knew that the Lord would take care of us no matter what. But the one thing that I had never contended with was the possibility of missing my own fathers funeral.
Malaria is a cruel parasite in the way that it destroys the red blood cells that carry oxygen in your body. Even after the initial infection has passed it can leave your body greatly weakened and take days to weeks to recover. I remember asking Riikka on Friday night, " How will I be able to make a twenty hour flight back to home in Texas when I haven't even walked any further than the fifteen yards to your door since I got back from the hospital?" By Saturday evening it was apparent to me that I would not be making the journey home to bury my dad no matter how much I wanted to go. My body was simply not strong enough.
In the hours and days before my dad was to be buried on Tuesday, the Lord once again revealed His incredible kindness to me in the very people who had, and are caring for me as I recover from malaria. There were many hugs, sympathies and tears that were shed over the loss of my father. On Monday after the morning classes Riikka, Paulette, and Mikyong came to visit me and see if I felt like eating lunch. I didn't think this was unusual as they are always checking on me around this time. What I did find most surprising was the out flowing of love, tears and empathy that came from each of them for my loss. How amazing it is when someone cares for you enough to take your burden as their own. We sat, the four of us, on my bed for sometime all wrapped in each others arms. It was one of those sacred moments when words are surpassed and that in the depths of the spirit "deep calls unto deep" to express all that is locked within the recesses of the heart. (Ps. 42:7)
I have, do and will miss my dad. I will miss his wonderful humor and hearing him laugh to the point of tears. Even during his last years of illness with Alzheimer's, COPD and asthma I don't think that there were many days that he didn't laugh at least once during the day. He would sit and recall a funny story or joke and he would laugh so hard that you would swear it was the first time he had ever heard it. My dad was a good man. He worked hard and provided for his family well. When he was younger and healthy, I really don't ever remember him missing a day of work due to illness. I know that there must of been times when he was sick, but he got up day after day, week after week, and year after year to work in a large building that was freezing in the winter and an oven in the summer. All this he did without complaint for 20+ years. I remember my dad telling me even as a child that he and mom just wanted to give us all the things that they had never grown up with. Both he and my mom succeeded in their goal as my brother and I could hardly ever want for anything. To be honest I grew up quite spoiled. We definitely had everything we needed and almost everything I ever wanted.
It has now been eight days since my father passed away and four days since his funeral in the states. As I write these words I know they are true, but yet my heart cant truly begin to comprehend the magnitude of his loss. I have, am and will continue to grieve his passing and the fact that due to my slow recovery from malaria, had to miss his funeral. It has been such a strange feeling to be so cut off and isolated from grieving with those who knew and loved my dad too. But in all these things I give the Lord praise and thanks. I will never know or understand all the "why's" that I have had bubbling around in my head for days, but the Bible reminds me that I don't have to. God doesn't ask us to understand. In fact, He tells us in the Psalms that our ways are not His ways and that His ways are so much higher than our ways. God simply calls me to trust and believe in Him. And that is where I am and have chosen to remain. Trusting Him to comfort my family and believing that above all GOD IS GOOD. It is His amazing strength that has seen us all through my fathers passing and it is the hope that we will see my dad one day in heaven again that brings joy and comfort in the darkest of moments.
Thank you all for all of your prayers, emails,hugs and consoling words over these last eight days. They have brought me more comfort and strength than you will ever know. I am continuing to recover well here at language school in Morogoro and will even resume my Swahili studies on Monday. Everyday I feel a little stronger and know that I will be back to full speed in time. May the Lord bless you richly for every kindness that was shown me here in East Africa and to my family in Texas. You have blessed us more than we could ever express in words. Thank you...