Big Weekend ...

On Friday night, in keeping with my Lenting thing, I went to bed before 1.
At 1:16 Drew came in to chat about his Saturday plans and talk about how his evening had gone while I was in Vancouver with Carolyn. (He had two friends sleeping over in the family room...) He switched off my light and closed my door just as I heard Clint drive up.

Minutes later I hear Clint ask Drew, "Where's mom?"
"In bed."
"Wha? Why so early?"
He bounced up the stairs, flung open my door and asked why I was in bed. Then he paced awhile and downloaded some thoughts.

After he finished venting he went to his room where he saw the pile of books I bought for him earlier in the evening along with the 'congrats of being baptized' card. So he came back into my room to tell me he loved me.

It's now after 2 am, and I'm getting up at 6 and I'm thinking I'll never get to sleep when something is revealed to me that makes my stomach hurt with sadness. I start praying and keep on praying through most of the night, finally falling asleep at around 4.

I got up on time and made it to 10th Ave Alliance on time and worried about the event the whole time.
Shannon, dear sweet, outgoing, young and vibrant Shannon, offered to give me a hand because the idea of getting up at 6 doesn't faze her and meeting 75 new people doesn't freak her out.
So she came and smiled and competently sold all the books we brought, handled every unexpected registration and took detailed notes during the workshop.

We were all done by 2 pm, so I gave her a ride home, and WHILE WE WERE DRIVING, she prayed for me and my kids. Out loud. In the truck. On Broadway in broad daylight. And it made me cry.

I got home around 3, sat down on the couch in the living room and fell asleep, sitting upright for three hours.

Meeting people makes me tired.

This morning, instead of going to church (I'd already done two 'churchy' things this weekend...) I thought I'd spend some time reading my Bible and praying.

You know that old fashioned prayer book that I've been referring to?
Well, this was what I prayed today:
"Deliver me from fretfulness.
Give me a stout heart to bear my own burdens.
Give me a willing heart to bear the burdens of others.
Give me a believing heart to cast all my burdens upon thee."

I love that old English way of speaking.
I think God likes it too.

Tonight, before church, Max, Drew and I met Dad, Mom, Daryl, Julie and Mandi at the White Spot for dinner.
I was sitting beside dad and he said, "I never knew my dad..."
"I know. That's sad, isn't it?"
And then his eyes filled with tears, and his face scrunched up and he started to sob.
I put my arm around him and reassured him that his dad was in heaven and looking forward to meeting him.
"I remember Omi," he said.
"She loved you very much, didn't she?"
He nodded and continued to cry.
My mom was across the table from us, and saw dad falling apart.
"Pete? Are you sad?"
He nodded and kept crying.

Julie, noticing dad's tears, thought she'd change the subject, and said, "Jane, ask him about DP."
So I looked at dad and said, "What's a DP?"
He smiled for a second and said, "A dirty pig."
And then his face contorted again and he tried to laugh, but he ended up sobbing even harder.
He looked at my mom, "Schlarbler called me a DP. A dirty pig."
"Yeah, well Scharbler should have been shot. That was unkind."
Jule looked at me. "What is a DP"?
"A displaced person. A person without a country. Nowadays we call them refugees. When dad got to Canada he would have been called a DP."

My dad is blowing his nose and calming down. I'm not sure what brought on this bout of melancholy, but it sure was hard to watch.

I guess it doesn't matter how old you are, you want your parent's love. And when they're gone, you miss it.

Which turned out to be a foreshadowing for the rest of the evening.

Clint got baptized tonight at Youth Church.
Before he got dunked he shared his story.
He was honest, articulate, challenging, transparent, and real.
He talked about the impact the divorce had on him. And what it was like growing up without a dad at home.

It's so hard to be the parent of kids who are hurting and messed up because of the circumstances in which they were raised. They had no say in the whole divorce thing, yet their lives got thrown into a whirlwind when it happened. It shaped them. And it left a great big hole in their lives.

It's a good thing that God is a Father to the fatherless.
He was there for my dad.
He was there for my sons.

Clint's story was full of hope and good news for people who don't have full time, live-in-the-same-house dads. God filled in the gaps and brought a parade of incredible people into his life. The same can be said of my dad.

The same can be said of all father-less people. Anyway, if you joined us tonight, THANK YOU for coming and celebrating with me. I was a little overwhelmed by all the support that Clint received tonight. He (and I) have some pretty awesome friends from all walks of life. Thanks to those of you who came out from that first church that closed down; Fraser Heights. Thanks to those of you who came out from that second church that closed down; Murrayville.

Thanks, family. Thanks friends.

Every single one of you played a HUGE part in the development of my boys - it truly does take a village to raise a child. We have been so blessed to have had a village made up of such incredible friends. Your investment in my kids' lives will have eternal consequences. Thank you for loving them.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Youth Church. Simon.

2. Northview Church. Jeff.

3. All the other churches we've attended over the past 20 years.

Shalom,