I wouldn't say I've been missing it, Blog.

OK yes, I miss writing in here. OK yes, I said I was gonna write, and I just didn't. Tonight however, I need to write. It's summer. As with every summer since I married the love of my life, my daughters go to another state to spend time with their dad. I know they have fun. I know he needs to see them and spend time with them. I know there's absolutely no good substitute for my children's arms around my neck. I also know the separation breaks my heart every year. Luckily, this summer has gone by pretty quickly. It's almost time to get them and bring them back home. Which brings me to my true reason for needing to write.

When I pick up my daughters, I'll also be spending time with my family. I miss them terribly. However, a visit to the family is always ushered in by a slew of mixed emotions. You see, my father, is an alcoholic. This means many things. One is, that I never really knew him growing up. He was gone a lot, and was "gone" a lot. However, I decided the last couple of years to try and get to know him. I have a very long commute home so we talk a few days a week. As for our phone calls, Forrest Gump couldn't have said it any better with, "...you never know what you're gonna get." Sometimes I call and he's sober, sane and we chat it up about his childhood, gardening and his days in the Army. Sometimes I call and he's three sheets to the wind and I wonder if he even knows who I am.

Without going into detail, I'll just say that my mom suffers the brunt of living with an alcoholic.  It can't be easy for her.  She works a full-time job and Lord only knows what she goes through at home.  I love her deeply, feel sorry for her, and feel completely helpless regarding her situation.  I also love my dad deeply, feel sorry for him, and feel completely helpless regarding his situation.  When I visit, who knows what I will encounter.  If he's sober, he'll feel pretty bad, lay on the couch practically comatose until I leave.  When he's like that, we rarely talk, and not ever about anything significant.  If he's not sober, chances are, I'll be removing myself and my daughters from the situation.  I've written him letters about the power of God's love, but why does it seem there's never a good opportunity to say it to his face?

I lay it ALL at God's feet tonight.

I pray for a miracle.  That my parents will know victory over this awful sickness in their living years.  I pray they'll see how quickly God can heal and how fully He can restore.  He is Greater than man, Greater than the bottle, and Greater than Satan.  'Nuff said.