I Can't Stop Crying
I was looking for the tape measure, navigating the cluttered garage when my eyes drifted to the contents of a seemingly harmless box. I looked inside and felt a wave of unexpected emotion causing me to quickly turn away. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. Why was I feeling this way? It’s just a piece of art that my middle daughter Meghan made during her recently completed first year of college. My eyes started to water and my thoughts were inundated by memories. I pictured her as a little girl, sitting in her room drawing. Her love of creating was increasing. As her passion expanded, we allowed her to download a social media app called Musical.ly. She now had a platform to share what I will always view as masterpieces. Her account blew up with thousands of people following, all watching her create. Moments later, my mind recalled her making a vlog as we moved away from Florida, and continuing it as we moved into our home near Indianapolis. It was freakin’ adorable.
I can’t stop crying when I think of those days.
I fight the regrets, overthinking the things I didn’t do. I am haunted by the opportunities I missed, the nights I was too busy, too tired, too distracted.
I can’t stop crying. Why didn’t I do better?
I continued to walk through the garage, refusing to peer into that box again. I returned to what I had been doing, listing furniture on Facebook Marketplace. I opened my phone and scrolled through my camera roll, looking for the pictures I took of the old dresser I was attempting to sell. My thumb stopped scrolling as I saw a photo from the night before. It was my oldest, Erika and I at an improv show. We drove about an hour and a half away to enjoy a special night together. I thought about the numerous other things she and I have done. We once drove nearly four hours to see violinist and dancer Lindsey Stirling at a book signing. I remember her unbreakable smile as she posed for a picture with someone she looked up to. Years later we would take another road trip to see Lindsey Stirling in concert, and her joy from that night has imprinted that memory in my heart forever.
I just can’t stop crying. Why can I not stop crying?
I told myself to pull it together, knowing that was unlikely. I shook my head and ran into the house to grab something. Looking back now I think I should have worn a blindfold. As I walked by a shelf, I noticed a picture of my youngest, Rebekah. Last year she and I went to Washington DC on her “Sixteen Trip.” When the girls turned sixteen, they got to pick a place for a trip with Dad. Erika and I went to Los Angeles, Meghan’s was disrupted by the pandemic, but we eventually made our way to Seattle and Portland. Rebekah chose the nations capital. The picture is of her sitting at the Baltimore airport as we awaited our flight home. I easily visualize that exact moment. I was tired yet my heart was full. I looked at her and thought about how grown up she was. Those days with her made up one of the greatest weeks of my life. This time I didn’t push away the memories. I let my thoughts linger on that memory and I was eventually reminded of another moment in time that I hope to never forget. She had to be about ten years old, and adored a musician named Jamie Grace. I found a concert she was having several hours away. We had a great road trip together. I remember stopping at Taco Bell, a place she still asks me to take her. The concert was fantastic, and afterwards she got to meet Jamie, who was so kind to her. I thought about her laying in the back seat on the way home, her innocent face glowing as she drifted off to sleep.
I can’t stop crying. It’s been happening a lot lately.
Tonight, we sat at the dinner table together, all five us together for the first time in a while. Erika and Meghan are home from college, and this seemingly insignificant moment just felt special to me. I sit here now at that same kitchen table, once again crying like a child who dropped their ice cream cone. Something is changing within me. I can feel it with each word I type.
I am no longer thinking of the things I didn’t do. I’m thinking about the things we did.
Next week Meghan leaves to spend two months in Florida. She will work full-time while she participates in a program designed to help her follow Jesus more and more and help others do the same. It’s really all I’ve wanted for her, that she would know her Creator and spend her life making an impact on this world. Rebekah is nearly done with her sophomore year of high school. I am awed by her and beyond grateful to have witnessed her strength through a difficult year. One year from now, Erika will be a college graduate. Scaling Mount Everest will feel like walking up a sled hill compared to this accomplishment in her life. She has pushed through so much adversity. Like so many others, covid punched her in the gut and she’s finally recovering.
I can’t stop crying, but this time it’s because of the paradox I find myself mired in.
I am mad at Rob for the way he keeps beating Rob down. Basically, I’m mad at me for being mean to me, but being mad at me IS being mean to me. Yeah, I’m confused too.
This morning I read this verse in the Bible where the apostle Paul writes a powerful six words, I do not even judge myself. He later takes this further, explaining that God is the one who judges. That apparently includes myself, meaning that when I hold myself to a seemingly impossible standard of parenting, I am saying to God that I can and should judge myself. I will go out on a limb and say that He knows more, He sees more, and the judging should be left to Him. It’s just hard to believe this sometimes, and even more difficult to live out.
I can’t stop crying. I know it’s okay to cry. I’m crying because I can’t believe I get to be the Father of these three wonderful girls.
When I think of Erika and Meghan, I think of the young women they have become. They are full of character, integrity, and passion. They love, they sacrifice and they make the world a better place. When I think of Rebekah, I think of her faithfulness and the way she truly trusts and loves her mom and dad. I think of the determination and the belief she and I share, that the best is yet to come.
It was 27 years ago today that Leslie and I walked out of a Wheaton, Illinois church as husband and wife. A mere 1,850 days later we became parents. We have worked hard to try and parent together. Our heart has been to love our girls, give them the best experiences, and point them toward Jesus and the life they were created for.
I need to wrap this up because as you would expect, I have to get more tissues.