Missed Moment

Me with my father in 2023.

Saturday was my Mother's 78th Birthday. Chele, and I invited her and my father out to eat for the occasion. We typically do this every year, but were "reminded" by my mother a few days prior, when Chele's birthday had occurred, as my mother texted Chele (twice) asking how her birthday dinner went and where she ate. (Even though none of us had mentioned to my mother that we had gone out to eat for Chele's birthday). In my years of being a "Phyllis Whisperer," this was her way of hinting about her birthday.

When I texted her to ask her if she and my father were up for going out for her birthday, she responded in her usual manner:

"Of course we're up for it. Do you think that we are old and feeble?"

She was kind enough to let us pick the restaurant and suggested lunch, since it would be cheaper for me than dinner. She also reminded me to invite my brother, which we also always do.

Chele and I chose Sockeye Grill because it is one of the four or five rotating restaurants that my parents frequently visit. It's a good choice for them because they offer a variety of things that my mother likes, as well as a burger menu (the only thing besides pasta that my father eats in a restaurant). Additionally, since my parents frequently visit the restaurant, the staff would be familiar with Davey.

Who is Davey, you ask? Davey is my father's beautiful Yellow Lab service Dog, that my father has had for about a year and a half. I won't go into why my father has a service dog (because, in my opinion, he doesn't need one), but I will say that I am sure it has something to do with a long-standing rivalry between him and his brother over who is more of an army veteran, and he got a free two week trip to up state New York (away from my mother) to train with Davey before taking him home. When Davey first arrived in the family, he was a magnificent creature, obedient, vigilant, and mindful of his surroundings. However, after a year-plus in my parents' house, Davey is not quite as up to speed on his training as he was at the start. I mean, when we took the family out for my birthday last year (yes, you heard me, WE took our family out for MY birthday), Davey made his presence known as he entered the restaurant by sticking his face in at least two people's crotches on the way to our table. So you can understand my reservations about bringing the dog.

After deciding on the location, I texted my brother to invite him to the festivities, and we set a time. I relayed the time and location to my mother, who was pleased because my father could get a burger there. Then, she reminded me again to invite my brother, and I informed her that I had already done so, again.

When the day arrived, Chele, I, and our two at-home children arrived at the restaurant first. As my parents arrived and walked to join us at our table, I noticed Davey dragging my father around the dining room (probably trying to find a crotch or food or both). As they sat down, Davey wasn't really having any of that as he was still trying to drag my father around. Of course, my parent also knew our server, and thankfully, he was familiar with Davey. Finally, my father got the dog corralled under the table (hopefully for the rest of the meal), and my mother announced to the server that it was her birthday, her 49th birthday, impressive as I am 54.

The conversation went on as the food came, with my brother commenting on me getting a "healthy dish" of Grilled Salmon. They aren't quite used to my change in intentionality when it comes to my health, or, for that matter, my whole life, body, mind, and soul. My family misses the "old" Joe, a fact that became apparent when my mother and brother started a conversation about missing the "old" Joe in front of me. It began with my mother asking me if I had my knife on me and proceeded to her constant probing about how many guns I was wearing. My brother chimed in with the comments about, "Well, when you were in the motorcycle Gang...", harking back to my days in the MC. They miss the old me, the Joe who was quick with an insult or putdown, and quicker with a comeback when someone tried to come after me. They don't remember the hurting, broken, and angry Joe. The Joe that was made at the world and God for all that I had been through—so much pain and anger.

I was that way partly because of the environment in which I was brought up. My parents loved me, don't get me wrong, but they were from a generation that did not always express that love to others, especially their children. The phrase "Children should be seen and not heard" resonates in my head. My father worked hard and didn't have time to be a "dad." He was providing for his family; that was his role. It was what he learned from his father, and his father learned from his father, and so on. The cycle was set in place.

I broke that cycle; it took over 50 years of my life to do it, but it happened. Well, it wasn't me, Jesus did it for me. In a story I'll be developing over time, God came and got my attention big time. He told me, You are a mess, you're a sinner, and you're going to wind up in prison or dead. But I love you because you are my child, I created you, and I want something better for you. But it's going to take you surrendering to me, trusting in me, and turning from your sinful ways. I would come to accept this proverbial "slap in the face" by God, and truly accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. And in the process, accepting my role as a disciple of His. Henceforth, the change, or transformation, my family has seen. The brokenness, pain, anger, guilt, and shame are all gone. I am made new in Christ, and as a result, I try to live my life as close to the life that he modeled for us when He was on earth, as possible. That doesn't include judgment and condemnation of others, like I used to do. So, I don't fit the mold of my prior life, but again, they are quick to forget (or denial of) the brokenness of my life back then.

As the conversation at the table continued, I was taken back to a time last year when my father had a stroke. He was in ICU at St Lukes, and unconscious for over two days. It was on the third day that he came out of his sleep, and he was like I had never seen him before. When we were alone in his hospital room, my father looked so frail, connected to tubes and wires lying there in the bed, yet there was a light in his eyes. I sat beside him and he began to talk about how proud of me he was. What?! Who is this man? He was proud of the husband, father, and person that I had become. He said that I had changed so much and was such a better man for it, all because of Jesus. That was the first time I had ever heard my father mention the name of Jesus. Amazing! He went on to tell me that he was sorry for chasing his work goals and not being a better dad, but that was what he had learned from his father. Then he said to me, "You did it. You broke the cycle." It was all because of Jesus. It was a fantastic moment, over fifty years of pent-up emotion just came pouring out in tears.

The Holy Spirit was in the room, I know, I felt His presence. He was nudging me to pray with my father. I wasn't confident in my ability to pray over someone. Sometimes, we are weakand lean on God for strength to get us through tough times, and sometimes we don't. This fell into the latter category; I didn't lean into God. I hid from Him in my fear of prayer, and I missed an opportunity. An opportunity to introduce my father to Jesus, and the peace and comfort that comes with knowing Jesus intimately. The peace that I have enjoyed in my life recently (since giving my life to Christ). But I didn't, I hid in my fear and missed a moment that I may never have again.

The next day, as I arrived to visit my father, he was getting back to his "old" self. He was still having effects from the stroke (slowness in speech, confusion, etc.), but his personality was there. He was in the process of telling the kids that he deserved to be granted Saint status because he had to live with my mother for over 50 years. Yep, my father was back.

As I reflect on that story now, I realize that something different did come out of that moment. When we see each other, each visit starts and ends with a hug and an "I love you." I have waited over 53 years to hear those words. It melts my heart every time I listen to him say it. I love my Father in Heaven, and I love my Dad. It took us a long time to get to this moment, but we have finally arrived here, and I wouldn't change it for anything, well, except I may add another chance at prayer.