THE POWER OF PRESENCE

Presence—it often has the power to consume space; change the atmosphere of a room; even anchor a wandering soul.

Although I have spent most of my married years to Leo in Tennessee, I still call south Louisiana “home”—born and raised Cajun. I have been here a while now with my sisters helping to support our mom and care for our dad who was diagnosed with cancer. Each day is different. There are no rules. Cancer is a bully and does not play fair. But nothing—NOTHING—compares to the greatness of our Sovereign God. And, He has given us some of the sweetest moments with our mom and dad during this journey. 

Recently, my dad woke up around 4am, so I sat with him. We kept our conversation soft so as not to wake my mom. As part of his cancer treatment, my dad is on heavy meds. Unfortunately, the payoff for his relief often results in confusion, agitation, and temporary memory gaps. This particular morning, he was convinced he was in a hospital (and rightly so because their bedroom looks like a medical room), and he wanted to go “home”. In his confusion, his mind was struggling to grasp any normalcy and make sense of all of the “whys”.

As I sat on the corner of his bed, he asked me, “If I didn’t tell you that you were my daughter, how would you know you were?” Phew. My eyes watered and with tender confidence, I replied, “Well, you don’t need to tell me anything. For 58 years now, I have been calling you “Dad”. You and Mom raised me with my sisters since I was born into this family. You’ve worked hard to provide for us, look out for us, and you have always been there for us. For 58 years, you have loved me. So, I don’t need words, Dad—I AM your daughter.” There was silence and then I said, “So, who am I to you?” And he spoke the golden words, “You’re my baby girl.” Ahhhhhhh my heart. Tears. I don’t want to stop hearing those words—EVER.

As I sat there with him in that early hour, my mind went back to our family tragedy and how confused I personally was when our middle child Meagan was killed. After I was released from the hospital, our whole family went through a four-hour visitation with hundreds and hundreds of loved ones. Once the doors were closed, I collapsed onto my knees in front of our daughter’s casket. I was absolutely, utterly lost. I WAS the ship without a sail people often refer to. My heart was devastated, and I was giving up. Then my eyes were captivated by our two other children who had laid on the carpeted floor horizontal to their sister in front of me. Our youngest first in just broken silence. And then our oldest, maybe assuming his usual role as the big brother to both his younger sisters. I cannot presume to know their pain, nor did I hear the few words they shared. I only saw the indescribable POWER OF THEIR PRESENCE and the love between siblings. As I continued to sit there on my knees, I became aware of the man who knelt on one knee behind me with his hand on my right shoulder. Somehow, his presence anchored me from literally falling into the dark abyss. Time seemed to align itself with the heaviness in my heart. I eventually leaned my cheek on his hand in acknowledgement before realizing this was not my Leo. I looked up to find it was my dad kneeling behind me, having my back as always, and protecting his broken little girl. I have often recalled that day and the POWER OF HIS PRESENCE and how it spoke SO much louder than words. The POWER OF PRESENCE.

And now as I stay in my parents’ home with my mom and sisters, I often sit with my dad just to be near whether he’s awake or asleep. Already knowing the answer, I asked him one afternoon before he fell asleep if it was okay that I sat in his room and journaled. He said, “Yes please. That sounds good. You journal. I’ll sleep.” What a sweet couple of hours that was because I could tell he didn’t want to be alone. I love sitting in their room. It is so peaceful. And my sisters and I agree there is a comfort Dad’s breathing brings us when he is in a deep sleep. He has always been, in his words, “King of the Castle,” and the rock in our family. This has not changed even though now he is in physical warfare. And something else that has not changed is the POWER OF PRESENCE—for us, his daughters, and for our mom as we serve as anchors for him in this storm. 

God has His hand upon our family. He promises to uphold us and carry us through the trials of life; to never leave us or forsake us. The POWER OF HIS PRESENCE is too much for words. It is indescribable. It is inexhaustible. It is faithful. And in the POWER OF PRESENCE—sometimes words are just not necessary.