blessings

A wave of gratitude washed over me

Some days I am struck speechless by how fortunate I am, not because of any one particular thing or any specific aspect of my life, but because of all of it. I am awe struck by how generous and gracious God has been and continues to be to me, in spite of the fact that I absolutely do not deserve it. 

The little bit of faith and faithfulness that I bring to my relationship with God has been repaid a hundred times over, especially when compared to all of my sin and selfishness. God is truly great. He is merciful, loving, and patient, and he keeps his promises. 

Tonight was just one of those nights when it hit me all at once just how amazing the life God has given me truly is and how grateful I am for it. My day was not particularly easy or even special. In fact, it was a pretty normal Wednesday for me. 

I woke up, made my daughter breakfast, and sat down for my prayer hour. I read some scripture, read a few chapters from some spiritual books that I’m in the middle of, sat in silent prayer for twenty minutes, and wrote my daily spiritual poem. After that, I had my weekly call with a friend for whom I’ve been a spiritual director for many years, and then I went to speak at a local club for people trying to recover from alcoholism. 

When I got home from my speaking commitment, I had lunch, sat down to check on my graduate school application, and listened to a talk on the Carmelite spirituality of St. Theresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. Then I took a brief nap before getting my daughter from the bus stop, having lunch with her and her mother, and getting us both ready for jiu-jitsu class. 

A couple of days a week, before teaching my adult class, I teach a small semi-private jiu-jitsu lesson to my daughter and several of her teammates. They are great kids who listen well, love to learn, and don’t mind working hard. Teaching them and watching them grow in both jiu-jitsu and life has become one of the most unexpected bright spots of my life. 

Everything tends to move pretty quickly from there. I teach the kids, then I teach the adults, and then I rush my daughter and I back home to shower, have dinner, and get ready for bed. Every week, on this particular night, as her mother puts her to sleep, I host a Zoom meeting for people who have had or are seeking a spiritual experience in order to overcome alcoholism. It was in this meeting that a wave of gratitude came washing over me. 

None of the things that happened in my life today, absolutely none of them, were things that I ever dreamed of or wished for in my previous life. If you would have told my younger self that this was what my Wednesday would be like as a forty-six year old, not only would I have not believed you, but I would have turned and run the other way. And yet here I am, completely awestruck by this amazing, full life I have today. 

I literally got to spend all day going deeper into my relationship with God and helping other people. What could better? What more could I possibly ask for? It’s as if God has given me a little glimpse of heaven right here in this life. I’m not sharing any of this to brag or boast. This is neither a point of pride nor vanity for me. 

I’m sharing this because I absolutely do not deserve it. I’m sharing it to give glory to God because, without him, none of this would be possible. Left to my own devices, not only would I not have this life and these amazing opportunities for service, but if I did have them, I wouldn’t appreciate them and I would most likely ruin them. 

This is me giving praise to the one who makes the broken whole, who gives sight to the blind, and who allows the lame to walk. God has given me so much and I have given him so little. All I have to offer him is my faith, my trust, and my service, but without him, I’d even mess that up. What an amazing God he is!

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

I’m afraid of losing her

Ever since my daughter was born, I would check on her multiple times each night to make sure she was still breathing. Nearly ten years later and I still do this. If she goes to sleep before me, when I go upstairs, I check on her before I go to bed. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I go in her room to check on her before going back to sleep. If I wake up before her in the morning, I check on her before I go downstairs. 

I’ve often thought about why this I do this. I’m sure it’s partly out of habit. I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s just something I do. But there’s more to it than that. 

Of course, I check on her because I love her. She’s my only child and we are extremely close. She means the world to me and I adore her. But if I’m being honest with myself, that’s only part of why I check on her so often. 

Having reflected on this behavior quite a bit over the years, the thing I keep coming back to is fear. I’m afraid of losing her, of something happening to her in her sleep, and of her dying suddenly with no warning or explanation. I’m afraid of this because, deep down, I still feel like I don’t deserve her. 

My daughter is such an amazing soul. She is thoughtful, compassionate, kind, creative, hardworking, and extremely smart. I’m in awe of her and I have more love for her than I ever thought I was capable of having for another human being. The thought of losing her terrifies me. 

I have done a lot wrong in my life. At times, I have been selfish, careless, and unkind. Especially in my youth, I have done many things that I regret. And while I know that my shortcomings and mistakes do not define who I am, I also know that I have a life better than I deserve, especially when it comes to her. In the back of my mind, and sometimes in the forefront, I am haunted by the thought of losing her as some kind of divine punishment for my pride, anger, and other wrongdoings. 

Sometimes, this fear drives me to be a better father. It motivates me to spend as much time with her as possible, to be as present for her as I am capable of being, to guide her as best I can, and to let her know that I love her often. Other times, it’s just fear. It results in worry, anxiety, and restless nights. 

The thing is that I know that God loves me and forgives me for my past mistakes. I have confessed them to him and another person, and I have tried to right my wrongs to the best of my ability. I also know, however, that what’s done is done and I cannot change the past. I have to live with my mistakes. 

I’m not sure why I’m writing all of this other than that I needed to get it out. I needed to acknowledge it and put it “on paper” so to speak. Perhaps I wonder if other fathers have the same feelings toward their children, a feeling of absolute unworthiness for the unfathomable miracle that they are. Maybe this is my way of reaching out for connection with those who feel the same way that I do, or maybe someone else needs to know that they are not alone. 

What I am sure of, however, is that God is loving and merciful, so loving in fact that he sacrificed his own son to pay for my sins. For me to continue to wallow in grief and remorse is almost ungrateful, almost a denial of that gift, and it certainly does not make me more useful to God or the people around me. My fear is a subtle way of rejecting God’s grace. 

Perhaps that’s what this is all about. Maybe, through the deep and unexplainable feelings I have for my daughter, God is showing me how much he loves me. I might be making too much out of nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me. It feels like everything and, as I check on her this evening and kiss her goodnight, I will do so as a form of prayer. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.