My father...
Personal Sessions are available Tuesday thru Saturday!
(Evening appointments every Thursday)
My father expanded into God’s loving embrace 3 years ago today. I was his first child, his little girl who loved to sing and dance, just like him. The one who was named after his beloved grandmother, Mary - and his mother’s chosen Confirmation name, Rose. His little pride and joy that he’d place atop his other pride and joy - a ‘69 GTO - to take our pictures. We were so close, I ended up in the hospital at the age of four with a bleeding ulcer. According to multiple doctors - and one psychiatrist- I felt bad because my daddy didn’t have any friends. I backed up my claim with facts; I watched him drive out the driveway every morning, alone - and back home every evening, alone. And it physically pained me.
The house we lived in at that time was an old duplex on Ovid Street in Seneca Falls, NY. There was a small, rickety shack at the rear of the driveway with an old farmer who occupied it often. He’d talk to me with a smile.
There was another man who would stand outside my parent’s second floor bedroom window, gently pleading with me to come out and play with his little daughter. She would carry around a small teddy bear or doll. She never talked much.
The time I fell down the tall, hard wooden stairway, hearing a woman’s voice whispering urgently to tuck and roll - in which I took heed (at 3 years old) - saving my head and body, without a scratch whatsoever.
And the time my friend dragged me across that living room floor by my right arm, as another woman called out for me to grab it with my left and ‘hold it in’ - and somehow made that friend release me. Arm fully intact.
Oh - and the snake. The long, dark snake that suddenly came out of my bedroom wall one night, crawled up onto my Holly Hobbie bedspread, across my legs, right angled back to the floor, across the room and out the closed bedroom window. I did scream for help with that one! Mom came running in, her blue bathrobe glowing in the moonlight, unsure what to tell me.*
And I can’t remember who told me to place my mother’s original Barbie dolls on a cookie sheet, sit them upright for an ‘airplane ride’, and sneak them into the hot oven when she wasn’t looking. But I did. Sounded like fun to a 3-1/2 year old. — Melted. Mom’s unimagined despair clearly mixed with terrifying fear.
We were in the process of moving from that house when I ended up in the hospital.
Looking back with wiser eyes, I wonder if they simply didn't want me to leave them behind. Perhaps they wanted to keep me there – with them – forever. Perhaps that's why I got so sick. Maybe they were holding on too tightly, refusing to let me go. Maybe that's why my body broke down – why, at four years old, I grew so sick I nearly joined them.
Well daddy, you know all of the answers now. Not just to my questions but to the world’s countless inquiries. You are not in a better place. You are in a perfect place**. I’ll see you again and we’ll sit on the porch with the most ah-mazing coffee. I love you. Hug Cammy for me. xoxo
—
*Many years later, someone found the basement infested with baby snakes.
**@Aaron Pennington, Lead Pastor of Trace Church, Colorado Springs, CO. Thanks to my sister @Kathy Field (Field’s Chiropractic) for sharing this sermon with me. And thanks to Kath and our little brother Tommy for continuing to share dad stories and dream visits with this big sister. Love you both so much.
Life Habits and Inspiration for 2026 calendar is now available for purchase!
Last Wednesday evening, we had a very special, virtual gathering where we connected with God, our loved ones, and each other! We began with intentional prayer and ended with guided meditation. I’d like to thank the beautiful circle of women, spanning from our west coast to our east coast, who participated. Looking forward to another Virtual Group Experience very soon!
A few nights passed with THE BEST sleep - until it wasn’t. Fresh off a dream, I noticed Coco laying peacefully next to me.
I glanced up—and there was Joe, squinting at me from the corner like a kid caught sneaking cookies…
Joe sidled up to Donna. So… he started…
She looked back at him, pastel cardigan floating. He continued, Does this mean we’re still… married? Like, in the old-earth sense?
Donna blinked, looked toward Sally, then to Cat, then me. I… thought we were divorced when I checked out. But now… She lifted a hand, mid-float. Now I’m here. And you’re here…
Sally tapped her phantom cigarette. Marriage in heaven? Let’s just say: the rules changed. On earth, you two were spouses; here, you’re both part of something bigger. The how and what are fuzzy.
“When the dead rise, they will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven” (Mark 12:25, ESV).
Cat smirked: Welcome to the upgrade.
You really think it's a good idea, letting our daughter date HIM? Joe's voice was sharp, low, like he'd been holding it in for a week. Or years.
Donna, arms crossed, He's a nice guy, Joe. Why do you always have to find something wrong?
I'm not saying he's a bad guy! I just… I don't know. Something about him rubs me the wrong way.
Donna rolled her eyes. Does he remind you of someone, Joseph? Maybe you should get to know him instead of judging from the sidelines.
Joe looked down at his feet, shuffled them, and then planted them deliberately, as if drawing a line in the sand. He raised his hands, palms out, pointing to his own invisible stage. Do you see my freaking SIDELINE?!
He stepped sideways, squinting at the imaginary boundary, then did a little half-spin, like testing the limits of his celestial domain. This is it! This is all I got!
Before I could even catch my breath, Sally straightened—chin up, pearls glowing like LED lights—and looked over her shoulder. I could swear I heard something behind her. Voices maybe. A few whispers. Laughter. The soft shuffle of more feet.
I craned my neck to peek, but she shifted perfectly sideways, blocking my view. Then she did it again. Step left, shimmy right—like a Victorian linebacker.
Umm, Sally? I tried.
Without missing a beat, she sang out, You can’t see behind me. You can’t see this way. You can’t see behind me.
It was practically a jingle.
That’s when Coco sat bolt upright, eyes fixed on whatever Sally was gatekeeping. Her tail puffed up like static electricity and she hissed… at heaven.
Sally sighed dramatically. For heaven’s sake, control your feline. Some of us are trying to maintain dimensional decorum.
Joe blinked. Did she just say dimensional decorum?
She sure did, Donna giggled.
Cat grinned, hoodie sliding down one shoulder: Etiquette!
And just like that, Sally gave me a knowing smirk—the kind that says this is going to be weird.
—-
Until next week…
