Honor Thy Father

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you SWEAR you could reach out and touch everything about it? Then you wake up the next day with a song that plays over and over again in your head?

That was me last night and, boy, was it a doozy. It involved baseball, Sidney Poitier and Heaven.

And it was wonderful.

To explain it, I would have to tell you more about my dad.

America’s Favorite Pastime - Baseball

My dad loved baseball. He played it growing up. He used to go to the ballfield with his friends or just play stickball in the street. And, from what he told me, he was pretty good at it. My dad took my brother to the original Shea Stadium in New York for a Mets game (something I am still envious of). He used to love the California Angels because Gene Autry, his favorite singing cowboy, was an owner. And, of course, living in Maine, he was a Red Sox fan. You would find my mom and dad glued to the tv when they played. They also watched the Little League World Series every year.

Sidney Poitier

Growing up, Saturday and Sunday afternoons were filled with my parents watching old movies. One of their favorites starred Sidney Poitier. ‘Lilies of the Field’ won him an Oscar for his portrayal of a handyman whose car breaks down at a small church somewhere in a western desert of the United States. The sisters who run the church hire him as a handyman and have him build a chapel: A chapel they had been praying for and he was the answer to their prayers…in more ways than one.

While giving them an English lesson (the sisters spoke broken English as they had been sent from Germany, Austria and Hungary), they sing a call and response hymn “Amen”. I used to sing that song around the house not knowing that, at that time, my parents gave me my first lesson in the Gospel.

The only thing I knew about God and Jesus was that Jesus was God’s son. The birth of Jesus with Mary and Joseph always came up around Christmastime. My parents had a small crèche they would set up. When we would watch ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ Linus would recite Luke 2: 8-14 from the Bible. It always made me cry yet I didn’t understand why. I never asked and no one ever told me.

Just a few short years before my dad’s passing, I asked him questions about his childhood. He told me how they went to church every Sunday, he sang in the choir and how the choirmaster took him under his wing and taught him to sing. He would then bring my dad around to area businesses and he would make a little money singing songs. The money helped his family. I had found a picture of his choirmaster and when I showed it to him, he couldn’t stop talking. So many memories flooded back to him. I wish I could have wrote them all down. I can only scribble so fast. But the time spent with him telling them was the best part.

Heaven

Although he never preached to us or spoke much about it, the Gospel was a part of his life. My parents had a huge gold-framed picture of Jesus on the wall and a statue of Mother Mary in the yard for their garden. One of the last things he said to me before he passed was “God bless that boy.”  He was referring to a photograph I showed him of my son, Anderson, wearing the tie he had specially made for him for Christmas and dad side by side in matching photos. Even though he could barely see at the end, he saw that picture when he held it up close and he teared up at the sight of it. In a shaky voice on shaky legs he said “God bless that boy.” That is something I’ll never forget.  And I am blessed to have that memory.

People, recently, have asked me personally “Why does God let things happen?” One person was referring to the murders of innocent people going on right now in Israel with their war. Another, why God would take their loved one from them and leave them so alone? Another, why would He let them die from Cancer?

I personally, believe that God doesn’t take people from us. He doesn’t strike people down with sickness. He doesn’t take their life. He is a loving and nurturing God. We were sent here to find our way back to Him. Terrible things happen in life. Heartbreaking, horrible and horrendous things. Some cannot be explained why. When a person dies, I truly believe Jesus and our Heaven Father are there to receive them. My nephew was gone from this Earth too soon but I know Heavenly Father was there to receive him when he arrived in Heaven. He also received my father with open arms. We are left here on Earth to deal with the aftermath. There is no time limit on grieving. Everyone grieves in their own way. While it may not look like I’m grieving, I am. The difference is I know they are together again and watching over us. They are happy. They are healthy. And they are perfect.

So with all this information you may wonder what “The Dream” was all about.

The Dream

It was so vivid. And it all makes so much sense when I think about.

I was walking up the steps through Fenway Park, something I have done many times, to seats along the 3^rd baseline. I could hear music coming from the tunnel. As I came closer the music got louder. When I finally reached the entrance the loudspeakers were blasting “Amen” from the movie. As I stepped closer to the front row I could see players in glowing white uniforms playing ball in the outfield. I watched and saw them throwing baseballs back and forth. One player broke from the team and trotted over to where I was standing. As he came closer it was hard to focus on him because he was so bright. He stopped just a few feet from me and after a few seconds I was able to see him clearly.

It was my dad.

Young, healthy, handsome. Just the way I thought he would be in Heaven.

In the ‘Field of Dreams’ movie, Kevin Costner said Heaven was Iowa. I think it’s Boston, now.

He was wearing a white Boston Red Sox hat but on his uniform above his left breast was a California Angels logo embroidered all in white.  He was tossing the ball in his glove over and over. I asked him “Dad, what’s going on?”

And he got this huge smile on his face. He turned and pointed his glove to the big screen. I looked up at it and there I was. I laughed and waved (Because who doesn’t do that when they see themselves on the big screen?) and said “Okay. What is happening?”

He gestured to me to look again and I did. The screen changed from my face to the words “Thank You” with God and Jesus on each side each giving me a thumbs up. The music got louder and he started to sing along with the song. He started backing away singing all the while and eventually turned and went back to his team.

I woke up to ‘Amen” in my head and it was so loud I googled the video of it and smiled. What a powerful and happy song that it.

What does it all mean?

After pondering all the things it COULD mean, all I can think of is this: I was honoring him. Not only him but my Heavenly Father as well. He was thanking me for believing in our Heavenly Father and his only begotten son, Jesus Christ. He was thanking for helping instill this knowledge in my son. He was thanking me for understanding why he is in Heaven. He was thanking me for not blaming him. He was thanking me for sharing the love my heavenly brother and father have for me.

There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of my dad or get on my knees and pray for guidance and comfort in my life. A day I don’t ask my Heavenly Father to open the eyes of the ones that can’t see or refuse to see His love that is right there in front of them. A day I don’t thank Him for the wonderful life I have. It is because of His belief in me and my belief in Him that I can do the things I do, have the things I have, dream the dreams I dream. (Kind of like 1 Corinthians 13:7)

And that dream was the most precious one I could ever have.

 

June 21, 2023 - A New Adventure

It is a Wednesday and, finally, one without rain. It has been raining steadily for the past 2 weeks and this break of good fortune could not have come at a better time.

My aunt, Cherie, is flying in from Florida this evening for a surprise 80th birthday party for my mother this coming Saturday. I was supposed to bring my wheelchair-bound mother, Mary, to the Bangor International Airport to pick her up but her flight was delayed a few times. It was just over a year ago she flew in for my dad, her brother’s, funeral. The week she spent with my mother was full of hugs, tears, food and much laughter. Little Sister, as my mother calls her, had been missed in the last few decades. My parents did not travel. Rather, my father really wasn’t healthy enough to travel especially in the last ten years of his life. Heart attacks, RLS, high blood pressure…it would have been too hard on him.

My mother stayed with him, took care of him and catered to his every whim. His eyesight was steadily declining along with his weight and quality of life. I like to think now that he is free of pain looking down on us from on high with 20/20 vision.

During all 60 years they were together, my mother put my father first whether it was a television show or movie, what they ate for breakfast and dinner or who took the first shower. She did all the cooking and cleaning. In the last years she bathed him with sponge baths, cut his hair, kept his medications in order and put lotion on his dry skin. I was able to witness on more than one occasion after the lotion was well rubbed in to his hands the two meeting with a big kiss signaling the end of grooming before my mother would sit back in her wheelchair and my father back towards the kitchen table.

I miss that.

While it might not be the way of today, I try to emulate my mother in that regard. I do the cooking and cleaning in the home while my husband, Chad, takes care of the outside. He mows, weed whacks, snow blows, sprays for spiders and other bugs, keeps the cars maintained and, sometimes, will water my flowers. (I forget…a lot) He goes so far as to mow the two houses around ours as they are vacant and wants to make sure mice don’t start showing up on our doorstep. I often wonder if he would like to trade with me but I’m sure he thinks laundry is the deal breaker. I don’t blame him.

So why this little peek into my life right now?

You would think my posts on Facebook would be sufficient but those are mostly pictures of our children, posts of where my band is playing, our bass fishing happenings and cats. My cat, Charley, does make his fair share of appearances.

I do love cats.

Maybe this peek is because writing helps me put my feelings into words. I write all the time: Notes on scraps of paper, ideas on the back on an envelope, texts to myself, emails to myself so as not forget things to do, song lyrics in the middle of the night. All the time. I have notebooks lying around in every room of the house. There are so many thoughts in my head that I just need to get them out.

It could also come as I start back to school this Monday on my mother's actual 80th birthday. I have an Associate's Degree in Accounting but having a Bachelor's Degree in Creative Writing and English would serve me better. My first step toward that goal is a bit intimidating but my parents always said I could do whatever I set my mind to. Actually, my dad said I had "It". My mom says I "step in it" each time something good happens to me. In reality, it's my choices that give me what I want...with a little help from God thrown in. He has a way of steering me in the right direction.

I, as my husband says, am animated. In my walk, talk, mannerisms, voice...I am a walking, talking, singing cartoon character. With this much enthusiasm inside it has to be brought out in a creative way.

It's best not to be creative with numbers. That can get you into heaps of trouble.

Learning how to be a better writer has always been a goal of mine. Here is to a new chapter in my Book of Life I am writing: A new day, a new story, a new ending and a new beginning.