Dad's Precious Gift

(In memory of my father, Nick L. Taral, born October 30, 1926, died July 31, 2002)    

     In the family room of my parent's home, upon a hospital-style bed, my dad lay quietly.  With oxygen piped into the nares of his nose my dad was awaiting death.  Quiet, yet peaceful, my dad had welcomed visitors and friends to his bedside for almost six weeks.  The condition:  heart failure due to weakened heart valves.  For many years Dad had fought many brave battles including two major heart surgeries,  a severe myoclonic (seizure) disorder and a host of other ailments.  He'd been hospitalized multiple times -- most recently a month and a half earlier for ventricular fibrillation.  Through it all Dad had maintained a stoic optimism which was unusual given his up-bringing.  I think his strength was an acquired skill.  As Dad grew older, he grew stronger spiritually and developed a deep faith in God by walking through some very scary times in his life.

     By the age of three Dad was living in a children's orphanage along with his younger sister.  My paternal grandfather had placed his children there after beating his then-wife nearly to death.  Within the year my dad was removed from the orphanage and living with his grandparents.  (My aunt followed two years later.)  Because of his early years of neglect and probable abuse Dad was a sickly youngster.  He told me stories of multiple ear infections and respiratory ailments -- in an age without antibiotics -- which kept him from actively participating in sports and other activities.  Dad said that his grandmother kept a vigilant eye on him, health wise, and was very protective (too much so?).  As a result my dad learned how to fear injury and sickness -- and become a fierce hypochondriac as an young adult.

     But as Dad grew older he began to mellow in his pursuit of perfect health.  When physical problems arose he began to take them in stride.  I watched Dad become a more brave soul than I'd ever imagined he could be.  By the end of his life he was more at peace than ever before.  Dad didn't seem to be afraid of dying and had come to realize that our time on earth was for a short season only.  To watch my hypochondriac father become a man of faith was enormously helpful for me to see.  As I've struggled with my own health issues and the health issues of my children, I gain strength from memories of my dad.

     Dad's last gift to me was special, indeed.  Visiting with him one day, we sat together just talking about nothing and everything.  Instinctively I knew my time with him was drawing to a close and I wanted to savor our moments together.  Tears began spilling from my eyes as I whispered,  "I am going to miss you so-o-o-o much!   I love you so much, Dad."  (I'm sniffing even as I write now.)  My frail father turned to me and held out his arms for a hug.  Falling into his chest I began to softly cry.  "It's okay, Kathy," my dad said.  "I'll see you, again.  For though we live on this earth for just awhile, our time in heaven will be for an eternity."  Taking a deep breath Dad continued,  "Whenever you are hugged by another, think of how this hug feels and how much I love you.  And if I love you this much, think about how much your Heavenly Father loves you!"  In that moment I learned that God had sustained my dad throughout his 75 years of life -- both in sickness and in health.  Dad was stronger spiritually even through his physical body was failing.  Love had, indeed, conquered all.  Dad's precious gift to me was this one very special hug.

     It's been ten years since my dad died.  He slipped peacefully away one morning in July.  I've often thought of that special time with Dad.  His words were a soothing balm to my soul and I cherish my gift from Dad ever more.  In the meantime I try to be brave and strong in the face of adversity and, remember the love of my dad and My Father in heaven.

"He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak ... but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like an eagle; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not faint."  Isaiah 40: 28-31

    

Irrational Fears

      It's 1966.  In my dream I'm frantically running along a busy city street.  A man wearing a brown fedora is darting in and out of the crowd in an effort to catch me.  I'm frantically looking everywhere for a place to hide.  Glancing around I see a daycare of sorts.  It looks just like a store front, but there are lots of toys and children playing inside.  Desperately I fling open the door and cry out,  "Where can I hide?!  A man is chasing me!"  The few adults are silent.  Their faces betray a mix of bewilderment, fear and confusion, but they say nothing.  .

     To my utter amazement I see a stack of twenty mattresses (yes, just like the fairy tale, "Princess and the Pea") piled upon one another in a corner.  Just as I reach the top mattress and slide comfortable down into the middle the pursuing man bursts into the classroom!  He shouts for all to hear, "Where is she!? Where is the little girl?!"  I abruptly awaken, shaking and fearing for my life.  It's dark and I realize that I had only been dreaming.

     On July 8, 1965 a kidnapping was reported of a 9-year-old girl, Denise Sue Clinton, from an Independence Motel.  Denise was staying overnight with her grandparents, the managers of this motel.  Her family had just returned from a trip to California.  She was known as a friendly and out-going girl.  She was a Brownie Girl Scout just like me.  The KC news coverage was extensive and I remember my grandparents and parents warning me over and over to "never go with strangers".  Just eight years old myself, I was stunned that someone would kidnap a little girl -- right in front of her grandparents!  Kidnappings were random in those days and the coverage of Denise's kidnapping was extensive.  I  began to worry that someone would try to kidnap me, too, and I started having dreams like the one above.  Always someone was chasing me.   

     Throughout the years I have wrestled with the fear of kidnapping, first for myself as a young child, then for our children.  I fretted and watched over all three children like a mother hen.  Once, as Megan prepared to go shopping with her dad, I scared her so much that she begged to stay home!  Another time I gave her a little Christmas bell that hung around her neck so that I could hear her if she wandered off!  She thought it was great fun, but my intent was to protect her against a possible kidnapping!

     When Jeremy wandered off in search of the restrooms at Silver Dollar City, I panicked.  For ten minutes we frantically searched the Gift Shop for Jeremy.  In my mind I easily imagined the worst --Jeremy wandering into the parking lot only to be kidnapped by deranged people.  Thankfully we found Jeremy before he wandered too far away!  But as we drove home, I began to think about my fears -- and, prayed for peace.  This incident had left me feeling emotionally drained and unsettled within my soul. 

     I began to remember how God had shown His love for our family throughout the years.  I realized that my fears of kidnapping went beyond the rational thinking of safety issues.  "Do you trust me?" I could hear God whisper into my heart.  "Are you willing to give me the fate of your children or do you still desire  to control life?"  I realized that my attempts at control were fruitless.  Ultimately God was in control of my life, which sometimes meant difficult and painful times.  It was only by facing my fear that I was able to begin to heal and move beyond it.  In due time, I shared my fear with the children and explained where it had originated from so very long ago.  In doing so I helped teach them the lesson of how to navigate beyond one's fears.  We all have fears -- but they do not need to rule over our lives.

     There are still times when I remind Megan and Rebekah to walk with awareness when shopping and I always remind Jeremy to stay close to one of us when in public.  The girls smile sweetly while acknowledging that 'yes' they would be careful.  But now we all smile and recognize Who really watches over us-- and trust that God will walk beside us through the hills and the valleys in life. 

     "So do not fear for I am with you;  do not be dismayed for I am your God;  I will strengthen you and help you, and will uphold you with My righteous right hand."  Isaiah 41:10