Dreams of My Father

Pearl came home from Hawaii yesterday evening. This morning, I am up at 3am. I had a dream that I was at a church musical event. It felt something like an Odd Fellows event with people serving beverages to guests. I entered the room. I saw our interim Pastor and then my dad. It was if he were still alive. I immediately walked up to him where the servers were and gave him a giant hug. I wouldn't let go. I woke up shortly afterwards, and I am reminded of the truth--that he passed away long ago.

I am awake now, reminded of my past and this current moment. I admire my Mom. If I could emulate anyone, it would be my Mom with here mental strength, faith, eternal gratitude, and preservance, despite adversities. Yet, it is my father who gives me my identity. I title this post "Dreams of My Father" named after Barrack Obama's book. I read so few books these days, yet this book is one I treasure. Obama's book is about how his father, despite his absence, still, nottheless, had a profound effect on the man who would be President. I am grateful for my Father and his presence in my life. I am grateful for my children, as I hope to cultivate presence in their lives through acceptance and adult friendships.