A Voice I’ve Grown to Miss

Football.  Baseball.  Basketball.  Radio.

Since I was a young girl, I have always loved to talk.  In my eyes, my Dad was a radio star.  He got to push all of the buttons, wear the cool headphones, give away concert tickets, and even meet some music stars.  I’m pretty sure my innate desire to talk came from him.  If you know me, sorry not sorry, I’m still talking about all the things!  Pray for Ben, haha.

I learned about records.  [If you don’t know what a record is, please don’t tell me because there is no way I am that old!]  I had to rewind cassettes to replay my favorite song.  I carried the “big” portable CD player and had to carry my zipper case of all my favorites on a road trip.  I came to appreciate some of the hits in music.  I even learned to identify songs in the first few seconds, followed by blaring out the first few verses of the song before the artist even sang.  I grew to love what I call the “Oldies” and even now, bring Ben up to speed on some of the hits from my birth decade.

After my Dad was diagnosed with ALS, I realized as the disease progressed, that it was not only taking my Dad away slowly, but it was taking his voice.  The voice he used to call games or introduce the next song on the radio.  The voice we heard at home, on the phone, and as kids even when we didn’t want it, the advice that was given along the way.   The iconic “radio voice” as we liked to call it, was fading as my Dad grew weaker. 

I’m not sure you ever quite realize how precious something is until it is gone.  In the months that followed my Dad’s death, going through his phone and saving voice memos along with ones he had previously emailed to me, were some of life’s greatest blessings.  I still find myself playing them from time to time just to hear his voice.  And to reminiscence on the moments surrounding the memory.

Here’s a couple short clips that bring a smile to my face.  I’m no radio star, but my Dad knew I loved to talk.  Who knows where the story will lead.  For now, I’ll cherish the memories like these -

I don’t know where you are on this journey of life, but I have to believe you have experienced the ugliness of grief somewhere and at sometime along your journey.  If you’re at all like me, you’ve probably found yourself thinking about how things were and wondering what things will be like in the future without the one you love.  I miss friends, grandparents, role models, and my Dad.  

I often journal in my Bible and as I was recently reading the verses of Lamentations 3:22-27, I came across a quote I had written.  Please note, I am not sure where I got this from or how long it has been in my Bible, but I’m almost positive it came from a devotion I was reading and it stuck out to me enough to write it down.

“Sometimes God reveals to us a bigger part of His plan, all at once, and the blessings flow immediately.  Yet most of the time we must press in closely to Him and watch Him lead us “little by little” in the path He has for us.”

Here are the verses from Lamentations 3:22-27, from The Message translation…

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,

    his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.

They’re created new every morning.

    How great your faithfulness!

I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).

    He’s all I’ve got left.

God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,

    to the woman who diligently seeks.

It’s a good thing to quietly hope,

    quietly hope for help from God.

It’s a good thing when you’re young

    to stick it out through the hard times.

I’m a believer in the fact that God is always orchestrating our lives.  Every up, every down, every joyous moment, every darkest valley - there is God.  I believe there is nothing that will happen to you or I in which He is not aware.

As the years continue to go by, I miss my Dad more, not less.  Grief is weird that way.  I say I miss him more because I find precious memories that were gifts from God all along.  I find peace in the forgiveness that was granted.  I find joy in the laughs we shared, on and off the radio.  I find grace in the serving; in caring for my Dad in ways I honestly never thought I would do at my age.  I find gratitude in family and friends who stepped up at all hours of the day and night to care for and serve my Dad when he had needs to be met.  God was in it all.  

I may not have seen it at the time, but God was always there.  He never left.  He provided comfort, stamina, grace, and a peace that surpassed anything else.  If you’ve walked through grief, I’m sure you can look back and see moments that stood out, moments that you’re like “Wow, I made it through.”  Give God the praise.  He is a good and faithful God, and He won’t leave you hanging.  

Ryan Stevenson recently released a song entitled “When We Fall Apart.”  I’ll include the link below.  Take a listen if you have a few minutes, I think it will bless you.

“And you’ve got the gift of mercy.

Don’t ever think it’s strange

Not a curse, but it is a blessing to feel other people’s pain

And always love without condition

And trust with all your heart

There’s healing in the story of your scars.”

Ryan Stevenson - When We Fall Apart

Here’s to finding healing friends.  It’s out there.  It’s God.  He loves YOU and ME so much.  Run to Him today - whatever you’re facing.  You are enough for Him.  And He is enough for you.