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Father’s Day has me remembering those lost too soon. Slowly, tears are giving way to smiles as I remember those lost during my lifetime.

I spent yesterday working on home projects. We moved into our house last month, and I’ve struggled to find the energy and time needed to do the fine-tuning of sorting everything. I have a lifetime of memories in boxes and folders that need to be done with. That, along with several other projects, was on my plate yesterday. I didn’t finish, but I did put a significant dent into the mountain of my “to-do” list.

Usually, I’m on top of what needs to be done at home. I am a self-professed neatnik, and that compulsion keeps the house clean. At times, I wish I were different, that I didn’t see the dust or disorder. It helps to take out my contacts, but the only problem is that I start bumping into walls. So there’s that.

Influenza A has earned my respect

Earlier this month, I traveled to Malawi to assist at our community clinic, which we host in partnership with Hand of Hope. I returned, as did many of the team, with what I initially thought was just a bad cold. When I didn’t get better as usual, the doctor checked me for a myriad of issues and found I had Influenza A. Until now, I have seriously underestimated the power of Influenza A. It knocked me for six, and I was down for the count.

Now, with my arsenal of medications and tissues, I am on the upswing. Yesterday, my eyes inevitably fell on the ever-growing “to-do” list of housework, organization, and a garden project. I donned my yellow latex gloves and set off. Once I was done cleaning and organizing more things from our move, I told everyone to sleep outside and wash their clothes in the stream. Ha, I was kidding, but a part of me wasn’t. 🤣

You should feel burdened to pray for my husband, Jamie; he has to put up with all of this on the regular.

Three flower beds

The biggest project of the day was to dig three flower beds in the garden: two for roses and one for a small assortment of succulents. The soil here is very compact. We bought a pick, shovel, and rake, but found the ground resisting our every attempt to break it up. I called a local gardening service for help, and they came to dig the flower beds for me. Even for a team of six grown men, the beds proved challenging. But, in the end, they succeeded in nearly finishing my project, save one bed that remains to be dug, which they will do next Tuesday.

I find these so beautiful in my little garden.

That seems to be a lifetime ago

My father passed away last month. A dear friend of mine wanted me to have flowers and sent a bit of money, asking that I buy some. Unbeknownst to her, I wanted to plant a little rose garden in memory of my father, my mother, and my brother (all three are gone; this is still hard for me to grasp). This is where the garden project began. My heart was full by the end of the afternoon as I admired the first three roses that I planted. They are lavender roses, the same color I carried in my wedding bouquet. I remember my dad commenting on how beautiful they were on that day. That seems to be a lifetime ago.

Grief has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. Dad’s passing wasn’t unexpected, but the emotions still come. The tears still sting. And the heart still aches. Now that my mother, my brother, and I have gone, I feel the need to remember them. To mark their lives somehow. The best I can do is plant a few flowers. It gave me such joy yesterday to see the roses get planted.

Related reading: For more about beauty from brokenness, you may enjoy the following:

When Sparrows Fly: A Journey From Broken to Beautiful