He Makes All Things Beautiful In His Time

I had spoken at a retreat sharing my story of how I was able to break loose from abuse. Many women who had also experienced abuse were set free that day. My heart sang.
After the conference we take a bus back home and gather with others who have experience the Cursillo weekend and we celebrate together. There my best friend, Mary, and my husband, Ray, met me. What a powerful time of celebration.
As we walked to the car, then and only then did they tell me that my father had fallen, was in the hospital and the prognosis was not good. Immediately we made the hour long drive.
I was tormented with the whys. Dad and I had made our peace. He had been my first abuser. Abuse opened by a spirit of victimization had been a way of life for 25 years. The man who was supposed to cover me and nurture me could not because he himself had never been covered nor nurtured.
Because I was able to forgive him and be free from my past, I was often asked to speak into other women's lives.
Now Daddy was dying. I wanted more time, more restoration.
He was in a coma when I arrived. I really didn't know what to do. So I began to talk to him. I told him about the women I had ministered to the day before and how God had taken the ugly and made something beautiful how of it. I told him that I loved him.
Then I just began to sing softly to him.
Tears trickled down his cheeks as I sang the following song.