love moves

 When Dad’s engine malfunctioned during take-off in his small plane, our world was flipped upside down. Dad had the wind literally knocked out of him, and the rest of us did, too. We were in a daze for the weeks following. Sometimes, I think we've remained in a daze.

The past few months have been excruciating, much harder and much darker than I expected. I find myself grumpy, or crying at the drop of a hat; I struggle to get out of bed and almost all aspects of my family’s world has changed. I’ve started asking questions (most of which will never have an answer.)There is much, so very much, to be thankful for, but it is a daily battle to fight bitterness.

Bob Goff’s book “Love Does” gave me something positive to focus on when Gentry and I spoke at Dad’s memorial service. I am so thankful for his book full of examples of how Christ’s love compels us to move, to take action.  I want, more than ever, my life to count. My days spent breathing on this planet better be filled with love. 

There have been plenty of lazy, sleepy, downright depressed days since my dad died, but overall, I want more than ever to give my life to something bigger. To not waste time arguing or feeling grumpy or even rushing around - I want to be purposeful, and loving, and fun, and funny, and full of joy. I want my love to do something. Because, after all, love does not sit around, love does not hide: love does.

Dad was a devoted father, husband, and friend - so generous with his time, his checkbook, his life. He and my mom made quite the team as parents. And they made it very clear growing up that they were just that - a team. I've noticed since Dad's accident that my mom is usually mentioned when talking about how wonderful my Dad was – they share many amazing traits. They made the other better, that's for darned sure.

Something that has brought me immense comfort is the outpouring of people who have spoken of Dad’s impact on them. Dad was not just focused on his own flesh and blood, me and my brother, or his own small world. He loved so many people. He loved more than just his "own" - he loved all over the place. For the past few years, he’s had so much joy from taking people for plane rides and seeing their awe at being in the sky – good friends, clients, and total strangers.

It has been hard to push forward in my dad's absence, to see my mom transfer bills to her name, to watch my brother take over Dad's office and responsibilities and clients. It's been hard to make calls to the car insurance company and other random places to say that my dad is no longer the primary account holder… in fact, he’s no longer living.

But nothing has been more emotional than when we reviewed, as a family and as a “business team”, the 2010, 2011 and 2012 annual goals my dad set for himself, and for his office. We were trying to support Gentry as he set 2013 goals, with the help of two other rock-star employees who've worked with my dad for years. (It should be noted they heroically kept the office running while we sat around stunned the week after the accident, picking up the pieces.)

Gentry, Mom, and I sat at the conference table, surrounded by pictures of my dad and things that hung in his office that mattered to him. Things like a t-shirt signed by all of his Young Life kids that my mom had framed. An autographed baseball bat. Pictures of the two of us in my first car when he taught me to drive stick. The list goes on forever.

I flipped through files that sat before me and didn't read closely at many of the words. Then I started focusing. Before I knew it, it was hard to take a deep breath. Scattered among the bullet points it said: “Spend time with William Chenoweth.” My eyes filled with tears as I realized my dad had set his calendar around the Cy-Creek baseball team as much as possible. It made me proud, but sad that it was even needed. I will never understand why God allows amazing parents to slip from the earth while some pretty crappy ones still roam around. I know, I know, life isn’t fair…but that’s a rant for another day.

Dad talked to us about a lot, and I had a pretty good grasp of my dad's "general" business goals, but had never seen his actual annual plan until that day. And I had no idea that Dad kept things on there that were not measurable, did not affect profits, but mattered to him personally. Under his list of "successes" for 2012 he had typed "Took in-laws to New York City." If you know my mom's parents, then you know my dad is a hero for noting this as a "success."

I want everyday to be more like my dad. I wanted that before he died, but I wasn't very good at expressing it. I want to be the kind of friend that my dad was. I want to love well and not just leave the important things to “if there’s time” or “work first.” If I ever have a close friend pass away, I would hope that spending time with their kids and helping them grieve would be equally as important as “bringing home the bacon" as Dad often said.

I want to be the kind of friend that steps up when it isn't easy. I want to be the kind of friend that is there when needed. I want to be the kind of person that has family that bleeds out past bloodlines and family trees. I want to bleed love. I want to bleed Jesus.  And, cheesy as it sounds, I am so thankful he bled for me. I am so thankful he bled for all of us. I am grateful for the assurance my dad is in Heaven because of God's blood. I am so thankful. And I pray that it shows.