More Green Shoots

I have a deeper appreciation for the green shoots of life these days, sparked by the unexpected death of my father a few months after I submitted this reflection on Isaiah 43. I had planned to enjoy many more years with my beloved dad but an untreatable cancer upended that possibility in a few short weeks.

The Bible tells us God’s plans are not our plans. This is easy to say in the abstract or when it involves someone else’s circumstances. But our plans? That’s a different story. After the loss of my dad, I resented having only dusty keepsakes and fading memories to compensate for the time we would have spent together. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fair.

These feelings found a voice in my old nemesis, rumination. I replayed events and decisions in my head, wondering what we had missed and why I hadn’t spent more time with him when I could. I knew I should listen to Isaiah’s words and not dwell on a past I couldn’t change, but I struggled to turn off the intrusive doubts and regrets.

I signed up for a grief writing class hoping the weekly assignments would be cathartic, but committing my thoughts to writing only amplified my despair. I dropped the class before it ended, figuring it was too soon, the grief too raw.

Maybe it was. But looking back, I also see that my Christian faith and God’s provision were largely absent in the stories I wrote. Failing to recognize the abiding presence and comfort the Lord offers to those who mourn made my words a dark lament without purpose or promise. If I was going to heal, I had to include God in every step of this journey.

Fortunately, God didn’t give up easily as I did. I received word a few months later that The Upper Room wanted to publish my “Green Shoots” devotional, which would become a green shoot of its own. As an aspiring writer, it was an encouraging nod toward the future. I felt God saying Keep going, you are on the right path. You will find healing and new life if you keep me in your story. I started looking for more ways to write about my faith and encourage others with God’s word.

My dad was my biggest fan, enthusiastically supporting every new interest I had. He read The Upper Room daily devotional and would have been so excited to see my words in print. I miss his encouraging presence in my life, and the weight of his absence is heavier at times like this. But I am more aware of God’s steady, comforting presence as well, which gives me the hope and encouragement to keep moving forward.