When I was in high school my dad tried once to really get inside a young girl’s noggin. He was struggling to understand WHY I was breaking up with my seemingly harmless boyfriend. I gave him my best synopsis and he stared intently into my eyes. When he repeated the scenario back to me, he used war terms, and, thus, began a unique dialogue between my father and myself. This breakup in particular was referenced as a Preemptive Strike, which was funny in my youth but has earned me monikers such as The Black Widow later in years.
Nowadays my dad and I rarely discuss my love life. With the exception of dire circumstances or to tell of horrible male behavior, I think both of us had become comfortable skipping the topic completely. On a handful of occasions we have had a conversation that goes something like this:
Dad: How are things going with the guy that has too many moles?
Me: Oh, him? He’s dead to me.
I usually shrug it off and the conversation moves on…
Things have been busy early this Summer. Already, my love, my family, my friends and I have had countless beach trips, weddings, parties, picnics, pool days, and late, late nights to count. In all of the festivities, and in every busy hour of every packed day I have been overwhelmed with a growing love for each person filling my days, Q especially.
Q were in church this last week and were listening to the story of Joseph coming out of prison after thirteen years. I was listening and thinking of my own story, a story of being delivered from a dark place and into light. I was thinking of the years I spent sad, years I spent lost, and years I spent wondering what it was God had in his plan for me. I was thinking of many prayers I thought had gone unanswered. Like Joseph, I feel like the last few months have brought me to a place I never could have imagined, to a plan I couldn’t have dreamed of (and boy did I try to come up with some doozies of my own!). What I never understood in those times was how many wonderful things I was being prepared for, how amazing it would feel to worship with the man I love, to pray together, and to date and fall in love the way that we both were raised to.
My dad and I were sitting at the kitchen table a few weeks ago, having coffee. He asked me about how things were going with Q and I told him how awesome it was, I told him that Q was someone I admired for his heart for God. My dad looked right back at me and said, “Well, Ash, looks like you finally have a real man.” My heart swelled. My dad had said so much, though he said so little. I don’t even know if he is aware of how right he was.