I rested my eyes upon the Old Victorian for the last time. I will never return until the day my father is called home. The once pristine house full of character and charm is nothing but a shell of old brittle bones. It was a very sad site for my eyes to behold, but sadder yet the true reality of a person who grieves the precious Holy Spirit. I am afraid for my dad who will not heed to the reigns of the Spirit and makes me question if he indeed truly received Jesus as Lord of his life. I walked away angry, ashamed, and with ultimatums posed to my dad from his only daughter he once called “sweetie pie”. My heart is so sad and I wonder how much more my heart must endure the lies and untruths. I am tired and full of grief. I ask my God, “Why?” But I know the answer only will be found in one word…forgive…again. God will pick up my heart again and lift my feet from the ground and dance with me and hold me close for awhile. I will be o.k…this I know because my Abba has promised me. But if you read this, I just ask that you would please say a short prayer for my dad. I know God does answer prayer and weeps with me on behalf of my dad.
