Here's a story...

...about my dad.  Now, my blog is usually light-hearted and mostly about my family and my kids.  It's mainly just a way to scrapbook without really scrapbooking.  This post is going to be a bit different, but bare with me.  It's just something that I need to do.
As many of you know, or maybe you don't know, my dad passed away just 2 months ago.  It's still strange thinking about how he is gone and saying the words out loud doesn't come easy, either.  I don't really want this to be a sad story, but I just want it to be a story that maybe touches your heart:
As a kid my dad was super involved.  He took me on bike rides, took me and Natalie to get donuts every Sunday, let us drive around the neighborhood in the back of the station wagon with the hood up (dangerous, I know), came to all my sporting events, taught me and all my friends how to dive, and he always had time to cuddle.  As an adult he was always checking in on me, sending me or the kids random packages, taking me out to eat - one time he drove all the way from Houston to Austin just to take us out to eat, and then he turned around and went back.  One of the greatest things he did for me was always making me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.  He was a wonderful father and a loving grandpa.  I have so many memories of the two of us together, and his last few days on Earth are some of the most precious.
My dad struggled with various cancers for the past 7-8 years.  The one that stuck around was Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. It made him very sick over the past couple of years.  My dad spent hundreds off hours hooked up to machines that gave him chemo and gave him blood.  One day in late January, the low blood cell count caused him lots of pain and weakness, so my step-mom (Lady) called an ambulance.  She called us the next day to tell us he was in the ICU.  We were on our way home from Arlington and we just turned around, dropped the kids off with my mom, and headed out to Shreveport.  My dad doesn't really like attention, so he pretended that he was upset that we were there, but I could tell it made him happy.  We stayed for a couple of days and spent as much time with him as we could.  The doctor's weren't very helpful in giving any answers, so I didn't really know what it all meant as far as a "time frame".  I don't think they anticipated it spiraling so fast, though.  When we left on Tuesday, my dad was sitting up in bed with a small oxygen tube.  He was eating, talking, having a good time harassing the nurses, oblivious as to what the next few days would be like.  If he would have known, maybe we would have talked more about things that were difficult to talk about.  My dad cried and said there was so much he wanted to say, but that he would have to write it down.  I wish he would have just told me, because he never got a chance to write it down.  He died 7 days later.

On Wednesday, he called and left me a message about his progress.  I'm so glad that I missed that call because now I have his voice on my phone.  We kept in touch on Thursday.  I think he was getting tired of me calling all the time.  He was moved down to the Oncology floor and was holding on by getting constant blood transfusions.  On Friday, Chad pulled me out of school and told me my dad was dying.  He had a bad reaction to some blood and it had made him very sick.  We packed, pawned the kids off, and drove the long 5 hours (we were speeding) to Shreveport.  I can't even describe to you how the pit of my stomach felt when I heard those words, "Your dad's dying."  It's awful.  All of a sudden it was real.  And all I cared about was getting to my dad and making sure that he heard the message of who Jesus Christ really is.  When we got to the hospital my dad had aged 20 years in just a few short days.  The small oxygen tube was replaced by a huge mask.  His happy spirit was obliviously affected. But, nevertheless, the first thing he said in my ear was, "I'm not dying."  He has always been stubborn. I wasted no time, and I started sharing the message of John 3:16 and Ephesians 2:8-9.  He shook his head as to say, "Yeah, yeah...whatever.  I believe.  Just stop talking to me."  It wasn't the assurance that I was looking for.  But I prayed that God was working in his heart to persuade him.  That night my sister (yes I actually have a half-sister who lives in Portland) flew in.  We slept there in the room together - Daddy and his girls.  The family was slowly coming together (my Aunt and Uncle and half-brother were on their way as well).  The next day my sister, Bonnie, and I were sitting on either side of Dad just holding his hands and talking.  My dad couldn't talk much, and when he did it was really hard to understand him because of his huge oxygen mask.  He just listened most of the time.  Well, my sister asked me the most wonderful question anyone can ask: "Heather, will you tell me what you believe?"  ARE YOU SERIOUS?!  Of course I started again by describing my love for Jesus and what he did on the cross for me.  That nothing I can do will ever be good enough, but because of my faith in Christ, I will someday get to spend eternity with him.  Again, I recited the verses mentioned above.  Now, this is the part of the story that is the most important - so pay attention.  As we're talking, my dad lifts his tired hands towards Heaven and in the loudest whisper he said, "I believe!"  Thank you, Jesus!  From then on, I knew my dad was dying, but there was such a sense of peace just knowing that it wouldn't be long before he was in Heaven with The Savior.  My dad and I had many sweet moments just the two of us in that hospital room.  We cuddled, shared stories, just sat in the quiet, listened to worship, held hands, and talked about what Heaven would be like.  I'm so thankful that we had that time considering many people are just robbed of the people they love without any warning at all.  The last few days were tough.  The communication was less and he was in and out of consciousness.  It took me 4 nights to leave his side.  And the night that I did, he passed away that morning.  He was always trying to protect me and I think he did that even in his last moments.  I'm sad that he'll never see my kids grow up.  I'm sad that Brooks and Delaney will never know his sweet love.  I'm sad that he never got to see Brooks ride the bike that he gave him, or that he'll never be able to teach Delaney the art of diving.  And on a daily basis, I'm sad that I can't call him just to say hi.  But through my grief comes Joy - Joy in knowing that someday we'll be together again.
So, my point in sharing this story is to tell you that nothing is impossible with God, but that with God - ALL things are possible.  He can change even the most stubborn man's heart.  God is faithful and wonderful and He never stops pursuing us, so please don't stop pursuing Him.
And it's kind of a nice reminder that miracles really do happen.

Grandpa and Brooks meeting for the first time.  

I love this picture because I think it shows how much they look alike.

Grandpa with the Kids.

Grandpa drove in to surprise us in October.  This was the last time he came to visit.

This was the last time my dad saw the kids.  It was this past Thanksgiving.  He loved every minute of it...can't you tell?!