We feebly struggle, They in glory shine…

If my brain felt this good all the time it’d be great. Dad called while I was out on a walk to see how things were going since we hadn’t talked much at the wedding. I told him I’d call him back since I was walking with a church friend. He called back ten minutes later to say he and mom were heading into Litchfield to run errands but that he’d be back after that. We played phone tag a few more times. The next two times he called I was in full on focus mode working on old treatment plans and notes.

But we eventually talked. I’d been…mad isn’t the right word…but I’d been eventually worn down into leaving the rehearsal dinner after-party and going to bed after standing and listening to him talk for quite a while about all of the different things going on in his mind. I picked up a few more artificial rose petals from the tables and called it a night. Back on the phone he wanted to hear about how my counseling job was going but first I did want to hear about the wedding more and their versions.

Dad had danced with my sister, which according to my other sisters, was the first time he’d ever done that at a daughter’s wedding. We didn’t even have a daddy/daughter dance or mother/son dance at ours. I had figured my dad was more comfortable talking and so gave him the job of giving a speech which he did at this most recent wedding too. I pulled out my phone and recorded the speech and then later recorded the dance with him and my sister. Something told me to record it.

It was a very emotional time because I realized what I was watching was my dad facing his long-standing fears and creating this beautiful moment with my sister. Apparently the reason he’d never danced before was because he was petrified of going out there. He had two left feet, he was too clumsy, he didn’t know how to dance, all the reasons. But he ended up doing amazing and they even did spinning moves throughout the poignant and lovely Cinderella song by Steven Curtis Chapman.

We were 45 minutes into the conversation when my dad interrupted my mom’s turn of the versions to say that he did really want to hear how work was going. I told him that just today I’d written a letter a resignation for the Christian counseling place. I gave him several of my reasons. It surprises me how quickly my words can turn into a heated rant when given the chance. After that I sent them pictures of the kitten and my dad said to welcome him and I had that mild thought “I know, Dad”.