Can you remember exactly what you were doing on this day four years ago? I assure you with all that is in me that I can remember more than just what I was doing this very day four years ago, I can remember the sights and the sounds and the smells and the way arms felt that wrapped around me tightly, I can remember a lot of things about that day. Things that I wish at times weren't a part of my memories, weren't a part of my past, but wishing them away is by no means going to change the reality of the situation. Let me see if I can in some way get the scene set up for you...

Church sanctuary, brownish carpet on the walls, floor and stage, chairs linked together forming rows in four sections, a display of family photographs at the front of the sanctuary along with some flowers and other decorations, a full praise band set up on the stage, and a few people milling about the room. The mood is quiet and reserved. There is a bit of sadness noted in the room, but for the most part people seem to be trying to keep everything in check. Someone turns on some quiet praise and worship music that seems to keep the atmosphere from becoming too much like what it normally would be for a funeral.

This was no ordinary funeral service. Not by any means. It was more of a celebration of life than a depressing look back at a life lost to one thing or another. Everything from the music choices to the messages presented by two godly men was thought out and put together by a man that I have loved my entire life. Oh yes, I remember much about that day. The scathing glances from some people who had no understanding about why on this earth I was even considering playing flute with the praise band. (I played because he asked me to do so) I remember the harsh words, the negative interactions because of my choices, but more than that I remember the love of caring friends who hadn't walked through this life experience yet but still tried to understand in some small way what I must be thinking or feeling.

Four years have passed since that day. The pain is still very real some days, and with the approaching wedding, it seems to be appearing more and more. I miss my father incredibly. I miss the sound of his laughter, the sound of his voice, his prayers, his hugs, his advice, his somewhat comical looks of disapproval when he thought I was being just a little too silly, "Hey Boy", and talking with him about mission trips and plans for the future. I miss him, but wouldn't want him here with me suffering as he was waiting on that new heart. God answered and gave him the heart he needed, just not it the way I envisioned it going.  God's ways and plans aren't mine, and if I am being just totally honest, well that kind of stinks some times. His plans are for my good.

Four years ago, a little piece of me was lost. Slowly but surely those lost pieces are coming back together in a way that could only be orchestrated by God himself. One thing I am most certain about is that had my daddy gotten the heart here on Earth, he would have been in Africa before I was, and he would have met Jim Cooper. The more I get to know Jim Cooper, the more I am convinced that David was indeed correct. My daddy would have picked him out for me to be my husband. Daddy would have loved Jim. He would have loved his missionary's heart. He would have loved his sense of sarcasm and humor. He just would have loved him. It makes my heart just a bit happier thinking about how much they would have gotten along had they met this side of heaven.

So while my heart is a bit sad today and my eyes are a bit misty, I can't help but smile at the memories new and old that are shaping the woman I have become and have yet to learn to be. Today is the day that we had a celebration of life four years ago, and I am glad to still be celebrating his life today.