Carpe Diem? I mean really?
Life is so impermanent. I mean really. I'm sitting in my dorm room, listening to the sirens of a fire truck that is forced to make one of its several daily runs to campus. Someone was smoking in thier room, burned cookies in thier apartment, or the most likely case...has alcohol poisoning...again. Life is so impermanent.
I am listening to this sirens while listening to a voicemail from my dad. He called earlier, and all I did was stare at my phone. I watched my phone, blessedly set to Silent, glow blue and the words "Dad calling" popped up. I was sitting at my desk staring at facebook and AIM windows, doing nothing except ignoring my father's call. I watched the words "Dad calling" for about a minute, then I watched the words switch to "1 Missed Call", then about a minute later I watched it switch to "1 New Voicemail". My dad called and I didn't answer.
I do this a lot.
I listened to his voicemail. It was very cheery. Surprisingly. I don't think he was manic today, or maybe he was hiding it well. He can be deceptive sometimes. You really can't trust him. But the voicemail was cheery. It was happy. If you didn't know me, if I was just a girl...you would think it was a normal voicemail coming from a normal father who wanted to speak to his daughter.
If I had answered, I could have maybe had a good conversation with him. I could've in that moment, loved him, because chances are that is what he needs.
His mother, my grandma, started chemotherpay this week. I don't think he gets it. I know he cried on the phone with my sister when he found out, but its all surface level. He is saddened by it, on some interior level that he has no understanding of. The man cries but he doesn't know why. He's just sick thats all, its normal for his sickness.
When my great grandma was dying I called my dad to try and get him to take my little sister to see her before she passed away. She was over a hundred years old and a part of our lives. She had always been there. My dad said there was no point. "If she's dying then she is practically a dead body so why go say goodbye? There's no point, she's just an undead dead body." She was senile, over a hundred years old...the woman was allowed to be senile. But she was conscious, she was alive, and she was his grandmother. But he didn't understand, it's part of his illness I guess.
I missed my father's call today. On purpose. Really I didn't miss his call, I refused his call.
Its funny how I find myself reflecting on small moments such as this one. I guess the way I think about it, God and I are getting so close. He's my best friend, he's my true father. Totus Tuus, I say. Totally yours. JPII said that to Our Lady when his mother dies. "You must be my mother now." So one bitter angry night I told God I was his. My earthly father had broken my heart for the hundredth time and so I said to God, "Totus Tuus. I am totally yours. You must be my father now."
Ever since then, God has taken care of my heart.
Life is so much fuller with him in it. Life makes so much sense when I simply answer him with a fiat. If I weren't so stubborn and foolish I would just listen. I know what is right, I should just do it. Oh well, I'll try again tomorrow. If my father calls, I'll do the right thing and answers. I'll pray the Lord gives me another opportunity to do it.
It seems silly. It does. But its the little things. Its denying little opportunites to give to someone, to love someone else, to do the right thing that tear away at our relationship with God.
Leo Francis Grote is my Father's son. And for that I must love him. I must give him 2 minutes out of my WEEK, so that my dad doesn't fear that he is unloved. I know he fears it. He may be a man made of layers of selfishness, anger and abusive behavior but somewhere deep in his soul is the layer of a son who is just dying to be loved. I know a part of my dad is saddened by his illness, full of self-loathing, and terrified of being hated. I know that that side of him probably won't surface, and recieve healing until he goes to heaven. But that is all the more reason why I should answer his call. Because every once in a while, every few years, there is a moment where some sort of goodness reaches the innermost part of my dads soul. It reaches through the layers of diseased illness, hate, and sin and it reaches the part of my dad that is beautiful. This I know. I know this for a fact.
God is so amazing. He has my heart in the palm of his hand and he is caring for me in a way that I cannot even begin to comprehend. But I love him for it. I love him so deeply. I hope to continue to give my fiat to him, daily. I'm am the Lord's and He is mine.
I know who I am in God. When I try to look at myself without him, without his perspective or plan in mind I do not understand myself. But with God, I learn more about myself in mere minutes than I have in the past 20 years by myself. God is so beautiful.
I cannot even begin to imagine the plans he has for me. I am excited. I know the Lord will ready my heart. I know he will care for me. I know no harm will come of me. I am O.k. I will not fear what is to come. I will live in every moment as God's moment. I will strive to give him my fiat.
Praise God.
I am listening to this sirens while listening to a voicemail from my dad. He called earlier, and all I did was stare at my phone. I watched my phone, blessedly set to Silent, glow blue and the words "Dad calling" popped up. I was sitting at my desk staring at facebook and AIM windows, doing nothing except ignoring my father's call. I watched the words "Dad calling" for about a minute, then I watched the words switch to "1 Missed Call", then about a minute later I watched it switch to "1 New Voicemail". My dad called and I didn't answer.
I do this a lot.
I listened to his voicemail. It was very cheery. Surprisingly. I don't think he was manic today, or maybe he was hiding it well. He can be deceptive sometimes. You really can't trust him. But the voicemail was cheery. It was happy. If you didn't know me, if I was just a girl...you would think it was a normal voicemail coming from a normal father who wanted to speak to his daughter.
If I had answered, I could have maybe had a good conversation with him. I could've in that moment, loved him, because chances are that is what he needs.
His mother, my grandma, started chemotherpay this week. I don't think he gets it. I know he cried on the phone with my sister when he found out, but its all surface level. He is saddened by it, on some interior level that he has no understanding of. The man cries but he doesn't know why. He's just sick thats all, its normal for his sickness.
When my great grandma was dying I called my dad to try and get him to take my little sister to see her before she passed away. She was over a hundred years old and a part of our lives. She had always been there. My dad said there was no point. "If she's dying then she is practically a dead body so why go say goodbye? There's no point, she's just an undead dead body." She was senile, over a hundred years old...the woman was allowed to be senile. But she was conscious, she was alive, and she was his grandmother. But he didn't understand, it's part of his illness I guess.
I missed my father's call today. On purpose. Really I didn't miss his call, I refused his call.
Its funny how I find myself reflecting on small moments such as this one. I guess the way I think about it, God and I are getting so close. He's my best friend, he's my true father. Totus Tuus, I say. Totally yours. JPII said that to Our Lady when his mother dies. "You must be my mother now." So one bitter angry night I told God I was his. My earthly father had broken my heart for the hundredth time and so I said to God, "Totus Tuus. I am totally yours. You must be my father now."
Ever since then, God has taken care of my heart.
Life is so much fuller with him in it. Life makes so much sense when I simply answer him with a fiat. If I weren't so stubborn and foolish I would just listen. I know what is right, I should just do it. Oh well, I'll try again tomorrow. If my father calls, I'll do the right thing and answers. I'll pray the Lord gives me another opportunity to do it.
It seems silly. It does. But its the little things. Its denying little opportunites to give to someone, to love someone else, to do the right thing that tear away at our relationship with God.
Leo Francis Grote is my Father's son. And for that I must love him. I must give him 2 minutes out of my WEEK, so that my dad doesn't fear that he is unloved. I know he fears it. He may be a man made of layers of selfishness, anger and abusive behavior but somewhere deep in his soul is the layer of a son who is just dying to be loved. I know a part of my dad is saddened by his illness, full of self-loathing, and terrified of being hated. I know that that side of him probably won't surface, and recieve healing until he goes to heaven. But that is all the more reason why I should answer his call. Because every once in a while, every few years, there is a moment where some sort of goodness reaches the innermost part of my dads soul. It reaches through the layers of diseased illness, hate, and sin and it reaches the part of my dad that is beautiful. This I know. I know this for a fact.
God is so amazing. He has my heart in the palm of his hand and he is caring for me in a way that I cannot even begin to comprehend. But I love him for it. I love him so deeply. I hope to continue to give my fiat to him, daily. I'm am the Lord's and He is mine.
I know who I am in God. When I try to look at myself without him, without his perspective or plan in mind I do not understand myself. But with God, I learn more about myself in mere minutes than I have in the past 20 years by myself. God is so beautiful.
I cannot even begin to imagine the plans he has for me. I am excited. I know the Lord will ready my heart. I know he will care for me. I know no harm will come of me. I am O.k. I will not fear what is to come. I will live in every moment as God's moment. I will strive to give him my fiat.
Praise God.