In 2006 I lost my father, watched him died, and since then I placed the facade of healing and strength around me. I had to be there for my mother. I had to be there for my sister, for my brother, even for my sons who had just lost their father barely two months prior. But there was no one for me, and I didn't turn to God for that shoulder to lean upon, or to be held in His arms against his bosom, holding me and protecting me. I didn't do that. I pretended and eventually believed my own lie.
How could I believe my own lie? I didn't look back. I ignored the pain. But pain has a way of festering, unknown deep down in the heart and soul. Eventually it will rise no matter how deep I buried it.
Last night I had a dream about my dad. Right now, once again financial situations have hit us and burdened my heart. Hunger, stress, illness, and all things that come with hardships are lurking near. And in my dream, I remember asking my dad if I could grab some from the treasure chest to help us. He smiled, his dimples deep in his cheeks, "Sure. Go ahead and grab what you want. That's what it's there for." I grinned and my husband and I raced up the hill to open the treasure chest. Although we had to make our way through some difficult obstacles and help a few little creatures (that part of the dream is a bit fuzzy), we eventually made it to the chest that was in the back of the room.
Then today I came across a post that mentioned Jabez. Years ago when the Prayer of Jabez was the rage, I ignored it. I don't do fads, in fact they irritate me. But I looked up the prayer that Jabez spoke:
"Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain!" So God granted him what he requested.
I read that and all I can think is that I'm not worthy of asking for anything. Why should I ask for money? Or a house? Or enough to keep us healthy and safe?
And as soon as those words entered my head, I remembered my dad. I remembered his hand upon my head when I learned my husband died. I remembered his smile and the smell of automobile grease, sawdust, and drywall--smells that I associated with him, a carpenter. I remembered his laugh and his beautiful golden flecked green eyes. I remembered how much I loved him and still do. I remembered how much I miss him and wish for him to be here with me. I want and need my father.
That is when I realize (even as I type this) that I long for my father's love. He is not here anymore, but if I feel like this about my earthly father, then how do I feel about my heavenly Father?
I want His love! I want His hand upon my head and to tell me it will be okay. I want his arms to hold me and squeeze so tight that I have no doubt that I am loved, wanted, and protected. I want Him to show me that I am His precious daughter and what I wish, I will receive.
And what do I wish for? I wish for a home. I wish for a comfortable savings in the case of trouble. I wish for another child. I wish for a resurgence of faith and love within my heart.
If I add my requests in the same format of Jabez's, it would probably look like this:
"Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my home, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain." It wouldn't be much different from Jabez's.
It took remembering my father and dreaming of him for me to realize that I need to remember my Father and look to Him. He has a treasure chest for me and it's for me to open, all I need to do is ask.
Please, Lord, may I open your treasure chest?
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