Remember God Loves You

This week we went to my dad's house. It has basically been sitting empty since his death, almost five years ago. That is a crazy thought to me. It's like life there has stood still, just like my dad's life has. I have to admit, I was a little concerned with what we would find. I know people had broken in years ago and stole several large appliances. And why wouldn't rodents take over? If I was a rat and I needed a home, I would.

When we got there Styrofoam cups lined the stoop like foam washing up on the beach. A sure sign of some hobo, resting his weary bones, fine, whatever... Just please don't be inside... We had to break in because there is only one key to the house--which my not-so-helpful realtor decided to not return. Upon our arrival inside we were pleased to find nothing.. Well, maybe a dead lizard, and a big mess.

I had gone to my dad's house the week of his passing and cleaned out everything I could in that time-- but the time was too short and there was still a good deal of stuff to be taken care of. What a long day this would be. There is a reason it has taken five years for me to make it out to the house, to make progress on selling it, but that story will have to be for another day.

 The house doesn't currently have running water, or electric, and considering it's February in Alabama, it was a tad bit chilly, just a tad. The cold got us moving fast-- Us.. my husband and brother there to help. They got to work with their toolboxes, me my cleaning supplies. I like teamwork.. We worked for the next twelve of so hours. The house looked impeccable when the realtor arrived. Well, impeccable for a 1940's un-renovated home.

I had a lot of friends praying, and I'd have to say God answers prayers. Prayers I don't even know I had. I mean, I know I want the day to go "well" I want it to be a successful day, for us to get a lot done. But every time I go to my dad's dark, dreary, musty house. Dealing with things that to my flesh feel unfair, God is there and working things for my good every second. Kind of holding my hand.

The week after he died, when there are so, so, many questions I stumbled across reminders of my dad's love for me. It wasn't that I doubted that. But considering he died in a fatal car crash, and never said good-bye... Well, I considered finding a good intentioned letter and postcard, written to me but never sent, A God thing. He knew I would need it more that day, the the date written at the top of the letter or postcard which on one of them was July sometime in the '90 I believe.

This day was no different. Everything just fell into place, when obstacles arose, there was kindness, there was help, there was favor. In one day we had a garage sale, cleaned the house, took a load to the dump, a load to the thrift store, sold a few things at an antique store, loaded the truck with everything that had to go home, made a three hour drive, and met with the realtor. God loves his people, that's all I know, and he shows his love in the worst of situations.

It is hard to tell in the picture, but the church marque planted directly across from my dad's house reads: Remember God Loves You. That's what I read at the end of the day. Nuff said.