I had hardly dropped my suitcase at the Dubai guesthouse when I got the phone call. My husband and I had just enjoyed our school’s spring break in Egypt and were preparing to board our flight into Kabul the next day. It was my stepmother calling from Virginia.  

“It’s your dad. The cancer has spread. Hospice has been called. You better come right away.” I hurried to make all the necessary arrangements and was able to spend the last seven days of my dad’s life on earth sitting by his bedside. 

Throughout my growing up journey, my relationship with my dad, his high standards, his commitment to church, and his delight in me built the foundation I needed. From a young age I believed the full Gospel message. I never wanted to be far from God even as a child, just as I wanted to be close to my dad. 

My occasional reckless, ungrateful, challenging behaviors and adolescent backtalk did not change his support. Good grades and top awards made him applaud but did not become the measurement of his love. Mistakes were not thrown back in my face to deepen my shame or grant him control. This unconditional favor, undeserved and often surprising, paved the way for me to choose to submit to God.  

As a college student I surrendered my life to follow Jesus. I believed I would experience the same security I enjoyed under my dad’s leadership. I would be free to grow, to risk, to dream, to be ambitious and goal-oriented within the safe framework of the destiny written by my loving Heavenly Father.

I wished I had been given more time with my dad. He received his colon cancer diagnosis a couple years before I went overseas. He continued working and doing life through various treatment cycles up to one month before his death at 79. We saw each other 1-2 times each year and I know he was proud of my dedication to overseas Kingdom work. 

His leadership and father’s love led me to God, and left me in good hands, forever.