My father's daughter....

As the second anniversary of my fathers death approaches I can’t help but be consumed  by the memories of the worst day of my life. I remember growing up going through hard times and heart breaks and thinking “this is the worst day of my life” and I’m sure at that point in time, it truly was. But as I look back I can’t help but roll my eyes at myself for thinking I was so….”broken.”

Growing up I had the most wonderful, happy childhood any girl could dream of. I was lucky enough to have both parents and a stay at home mom which is rare these days. With my dad being a pastor he did most of his work in his office at home so even if he was working he was always around. I have so many memories of growing up. Really great, sweet, funny stories that warm my heart. I love to replay them in my mind and share them with my husband. One of my favorite stories was when my dad caught this foot long bass and decided to freeze it in our freezer. Oh how I hated that thing! One day when I was about 7 or 8 I opened up my closet to get a pair of shoes  and there it was laying on top of my shoes! I was so upset screaming and crying I decided to run away. And I did….about 3 houses away. My entire family still holds that over my head to this day.

As I grew up and not much changed. My parents always supported me and what I wanted to do as long as God was center in my life. My dad always gave the best advice, even when it came to my relationships and friendships. They recognized really early on that I wasn’t like most others my age and they usually supported my “growing up” decisions. I remember always being reminded of how beautiful and funny I was…we all were. They always made a point to make us feel confident and secure with who we were. I was so blessed to grow up in a home full of laughter. We all seemed to have our own trademark sense of humor. I am thankful for this because when I’m missing my family, I know I have a plethora of heart warming memories to think of and make me smile again. Some might say I was raised with a silver spoon in my mouth…and maybe I was. All I know is that I was loved the way a daughter should be and I was taught how to be a Godly woman. My parents were to me, perfect.

So as I’m sure you’ve gathered, I had a virtually simple, happy, tragedy free life. Then came the day when my whole world changed.

August 6^th, 2009 just 16 days shy of my 19^th birthday I stopped breathing. And in one split second I was a girl whose biggest concern was what I was going to be when I grow up, and in the next, I grew up. The events that played out over the next 2 years are ones that have remained carved into my heart and my mind. Events that have caused the most terrifying nightmares, and the most hearbreaking reality. I share these memories and events because I feel like it’s finally time to share my story of how losing my father led me to finding a relationship with my heavenly father. If no one reads it, I don’t care. I just want to finally let my experience live somewhere else than in my heart. And please, whatever you do don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t feel sorry for myself. God gave me a tremendous testimony.