wisdom

It was just a normal phone call, a few months after we'd moved. I was in our bedroom, sun streaming in the windows, trying to put away laundry and clean up a bit while catching up with dad. Dad had a way of getting right to the pressing issue...and knowing what the pressing issue to start with. We chatted about the kids and Matt, and then he asked about the old house.

It still hadn't sold, and he knew it was threatening me, eating at me. He listened while I explained all the same things, pacing around the room, worried about money, the housing market, owning two homes, not having anything else we could do.

Dad got choked up, not a normal thing at all, and then frustrated with himself for getting teary. 

Listen, I can still hear his shaky but positive voice say, It's going to be ok, it's going to sell. These aren't the things that matter. This isn't what's important. You've done what you can do, God's going to take care of the rest, and I know I'm stupid crying...I keep doing that lately...but this isn't what matters. You've gotta not worry about it one more minute.

Laying in bed last night, listening to the storm and watching the lightning flash up the sky, I could hear him and remember like it was yesterday. Same room. Same floor. Same phone. Same house. Different problems lying me awake, Dad's voice, saying the same thing, no longer irritated with his own increasing weakness.  

It did sell. Nothing we did differently. Not due to my worrying. It didn't really matter, not at all. 

What I wouldn't do to have that conversation again, over what really DID matter, and is now gone.

There will be no new wisdom from my dad. I'm trying to apply his old wisdom and truth to now...trying to keep before me only the things that truly matter. 

All dad's urgings blur with His Word. His Word, also final. I'm trying to apply the old wisdom and truth to now.