My mom got some film developed a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, it cost a small fortune, and the company ripped her off.
But… there she sat with a pile of pictures from who knows what, when, and where, ready to be sorted through. She may not realize it, but it was worth every cent.
When I sat down to go through them, this picture was the first I saw. I couldn’t hold back the tears.
I only have one picture of my dad and me as adults. It was the day I picked him up from prison. I’ve longed so much to have captured some of the good memories we made together before he died. But, until now, I’ve only had them in my heart.
This picture was a good day. We were happy. Smiling. For a moment, addiction wasn’t destroying either one of us. We were just capturing the moments around us and enjoying life, which really is like a vapor, gone before you know it.
It wouldn’t be long after this picture was taken that he took his last breath before walking into the arms of Jesus. Not long before the smile would disappear and I was left with the broken pieces of what addiction stole from me – stole from us.
February 24, 2009. He was gone just like that. Only hours after planning a weekend trip together. Only hours after leaving a voicemail saying he loved me. I would trade in my most prized possessions to hear his voice say those three words.
Better yet, I would give anything to just sit with him and talk and laugh. To hear his redneck laugh. To tell him he has to stop cooking friend bologna and egg sandwiches because I’m trying to lose weight.
But I can’t do any of that because addiction stole those moments.
But God… Let me tell you what addiction didn’t steal. It didn’t steal his salvation because I sat at his bedside two months before he died, held his hand, and led him to Jesus. The enemy thought he had the last laugh, but he was wrong.
And oh, how he would find the humor in the fact that he went back to prison, just in a different way. You see, his story, my story, our story, has been shared with hundreds of men and women in prison, choosing brokenness instead of the freedom God longs for them to have.
I’ve seen grown men with tattoos from the top of their heads to the bottom of their feet weep when I share the desperation of an adult woman whose heart breaks like a little girl longing for her dad’s love. And I’ve seen hope restored in their hardened eyes when they realize that it’s not too late for them to restore what the enemy has tried to steal. Why? Because they’ve still got breath in their lungs.
This picture represents two people who were so broken in their own ways. Neither of us knew how to cope with life healthily. Neither of us knew how to communicate appropriately. But amid our brokenness, we loved each other, even if we couldn’t figure out how to express it right.
Addiction sucks. I shouldn’t have to write this post today. But I am because addiction is a harsh reality.
But let me tell you what else is a reality. God can restore what the locusts have eaten. (Joel 2:22) He set me free. He’s still setting me free. He’s still writing my story; my dad will always be weaved in and out of it.
He didn’t experience freedom on this side of heaven, and I wish he could have. But he is undoubtedly experiencing it now on the other side because he chose Jesus, even if he only got to experience a tiny glimpse of a relationship with Him before he prematurely left this world. But now he spends eternity with God. Just wow!
And one day… we will dance together. And laugh together. And perhaps eat bologna and egg sandwiches that have zero calories.
Don’t wait to choose Jesus until the end of your life, as my dad did. You’re missing out on so much. Don’t wait to choose freedom. Don’t wait to seek help for that addiction that’s controlling your life. Don’t wait to believe that today can be the day you stop living stuck in that brokenness and fear. Today can be the day you choose life if you want it.
God is waiting for you, my friend.