“He must be having a bad day.”

These were the words I said to Mike as a man in a car passed us on the highway waving wildly at our truck and trailer combination.

“What’s his problem? We weren’t doing anything wrong!”

The man had waved wildly as he passed us, pulled over to the side of the highway and continued waving as we drove by him. When we turned left a few minutes later, he was still waving wildly as he passed us.

A few minutes later, an SUV pulled up beside us on the gravel road we were travelling down, minutes away from our camping destination. With a concerned face, the woman rolled down her window and said, “Your bikes are dragging, hey?” Mike immediately pulled over and we jumped out of the truck to investigate.

As it turned out, the waving man wasn’t having a bad day; we were.

My relationship with dad has been on a journey since he passed away— oddly, without him actually being here.

God has been bringing to light my *interpretations* of things my dad said/didn’t say and did/didn’t do over the years we had together.

In the mix of all of these things, the wrestling, the tears, the laughter and the questions, this is what God gave me as I lingered by the graveside:

Go, Steph, go.

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think about how your dad feels about you— how he feels about the fact that you are his daughter?

How has it influenced how you think God feels about you?

How did we get here?

My mom and I were on the plane to Abbotsford both grateful for another opportunity to serve God by serving His people. We were also both not entirely sure how to answer that question. We pondered and then my mom went first.

She told me when she was a new believer in the 80’s, the church she was part of was hosting Vacation Bible School. Someone asked if she would lead a Bible study for the moms who were dropping their kids off. She said yes. It was the first of many yeses, followed by many more over many years. 

Many yeses to God over many years eventually equals a surrendered life.

I was appointed to navigate us across Toronto since I was from "around here" (AKA Canada). Thankfully, we did eventually arrive at the restaurant after much prayer and the GPS recalculating. We headed to the reserved area in the back where the two teams were meeting to eat. I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks. Beth Moore was standing six feet away casually chatting it up with her team members.

I reminded myself to think like a cucumber and be cool. I appeared to be the only one in the room fighting the urge to act like a crazy person. I sat down and channelled my crazy into a text to my friend who was with me in Vancouver in 2008 (whose goal in life is to sing backup for Travis Cottrell one day). I typed, Oh my goodness… I am at dinner with Beth and Travis!!!!!!!

Her immediate response (which I fully anticipated) was, I'M DYING! I’M DYING! Feel free to introduce me! I know they're real people but seriously! This is an 8 year old miracle.

Then I remembered that I never play it cool nor I’ve never been cool. Crazy is so much more me. So I got up and casually walked over