Smells Like Papa
It’s been 8 years today since my father passed away. The sting of death has diminished quite a bit, but I don’t think it gets easier, it’s just different. A tinge of grief hits me whenever my kids reach new milestones. I think about the way he loved them so well when they were little.
He would hold out his arms without a word & I’d willingly (& sometimes unwillingly) hand them over before his heart exploded right before my eyes. By the time I got my baby or toddler back, their little cheeks were red from kisses & nuzzles as a result of his scratchy 5 o’clock shadow. Inevitably, there was also a smell that lingered on them long after he left. I would pick up my babies and my first thought was, “Yep, papa was here.” It was the undeniable scent of Old Spice cologne that he used everyday for years & years. Some days it was ok that he handed my babies back smelling like an old man – it was a small price to pay for a few moments to myself. But other times I found it annoying, especially when I just had given them a bath (ahhh, love that new baby lotion smell) or we were headed out the door. Shortly, after he passed on, I had a very vivid dream where he visited me & I woke up and literally had the smell of Old Spice in my nose. What an amazing gift it was and it deeply ministered to me when my heart was broken. We still joke about the fact that his cologne was so distinct, you can smell him from the grave.
I’ve been pondering this a lot this week. In the world of spiritual direction, the ebb & flow of the spiritual life is often compared to that of labor & delivery. Directors act like a midwife of sorts, coming alongside a directee in the birthing process of the precious soul work & calling God is doing in them. In my own life, I have been so blessed to have such people around me in the most vulnerable, strenuous inner formation & spiritual labor. I’ve had seasons of fruitfulness & seasons of miscarried dreams. Years of distance with God & years where He’s closer than my very breath. All of it…the good, the bad & the ugly…making up who I am. I’ll be honest, folks, it’s a lot of work. Not the kind of “give me a Christian to-do list & I’ll check it off” kind of work. But a “this baby is coming whether you are ready for it or not” painfully long, unpredictable, gut wrenchingly deep kind of work.
After those seasons of intense inner soul labor, my tendency is to hold my “baby” close to me as long as possible – calling, identity, grief, gifting, relationships… or whatever the Lord birthed in me at the time… and He is so sweet to let me linger there embracing the warmth of it, taking it all in as we delight in it together. It could be a few weeks or a few months, but after awhile, there usually comes a moment when He stands there before me arms wide open like a Papa – eyes wild with amazement & anticipation, and love so powerfully potent, it overwhelms the senses.
In these moments, the invitation to you and I is this – Am I willing to entrust to Him the things closest to my heart, with my whole heart?
The dreams I have fought & labored for, despite the miscarried dreams in the past. Hurt & pain, even when it’s justified. Relationships that span decades. The call of ministry. The unknown. The physical health that comes and goes. The very essence of who I am, even when I’m just starting to figure out who that is.
All these things He longs to hold close to His heart, too, if we allow Him to. Not to take away from, but to add to. He scoops them up in His arms & takes in every fine detail with delight as He relishes His handiwork. In His time, He gives these areas back to us a little more whole & holy. So well loved that it reeks of Him. When I reflect on these areas, I rest in the truth that Papa was here, and He held us close.
