Officially, it has been just over four months since I have posted a blog on this site, but unofficially, I actually crafted a long, heartfelt message on Memorial Day that did not make it to public viewing because of tragic computer mishaps. I had put so much energy into the post, and even tried to re-write it a second time but continued to be disappointed unfortunate events that I gave up and haven't written since. Well, I haven't written not because of the events of that day but because I don't think I've adopted the blogging mentality yet, and well, I was not able to manage engaging in my work life, my home life, and a blogging life. Perhaps things will change in the near future, but forgive me if I only get around to posting every so often. There is much to be said despite the limited opportunities for thoughts and experiences to become words, and given that, these words only reach a small circle of people in the world. Nonetheless, my ramblings are meant to help motion my gaze, and any one else's who is interested, in the direction of my dad, who lived in the world for sixty-three, some-odd years, as a soldier, a father, a deacon, as a teacher, as a man who loved everyone.
For anyone who went to church yesterday, you probably heard the Gospel reading that said, "Ask and you will receive." The Father will not give you what you think you need or want, like the snake for the fish or the scorpion for the egg. Sometimes you get what you want or need; it just comes in a different format. The priest at the church where I attend mass spoke about how parents can see things their children cannot, and this goes for God, too. As I'm writing this and thinking about dad, I do not want to simplify in any way, how tremendous the experience of death is in light of this gospel. The story itself is simplistic, yet in life, what we experience is so much greater in terms of what impacts our lives. Right? Yet this simple story in the gospel would seem to be addressing the big points in life, our greatest wants and needs, and how God sees things on the grander scale. We really don't know what to expect, and we don't necessarily know how to handle life if God gives us a fish that looks and feels like a snake. When do we discover that we have, in fact, been given a fish? Too, once we realize that we are in possession of the fish, we only live with it for so long before we prepare it, cook it up, and share it with our families. Fish come and go, as do all of the precious and fulfilling gifts that we are given, like people in our lives, and we are made more whole and nourished because it was once with us and it is now a part of us.
In less than a month, it will have been a year since my father's death. I'm sure that all who knew him will feel that same loss of breath on the day that he passed. Our family is different now, evolving in an unfamiliar direction, with the hope that we can always keep the light of dad within us as we trip over the rocks and boulders in our way.
The other thing is that as we've all been bumping and bruising along, over the past year, we've all found pennies which insights us that dad is not far. For anyone that is reading this blog and has a penny story to tell, please tell your story either in the comments section of this blog, or post it on deaconboblittle.com. The website has not been updated lately, but it would be wonderful to hear about how dad has continued to touch your lives and help you when you needed a little extra. He's still watching over all of us, and I believe he's in kuhuts with God now telling Him to give us all really big, beautiful fish.....
