My weekend…

My weekend started innocently enough… Hanging out with friends on Friday, with some of Suzy’s pasta and chocolate chip banana bread in my belly.

Then my mom calls at 6 on Saturday morning. “There’s something I think you should know…” she starts off. These sentences never end well. She goes on to tell me that my father is sending everyone an email apologizing for his behavior. If you know my dad, you know this is a huge step. He’s never shown any real remorse for the stuff he did (I won’t go into detail here).

A couple hours later, he calls me. “I want to get my life right, and I was wondering if I could move there and stay with you guys while I get back on my feet.”

The first response to pop into my head was “No way!” My family and I have given him numerous chances to get his life right and we had no reason to trust him this time. But immediately, I heard God’s voice ask me “Isn’t this what you were fasting for? If it takes moving in with you to get your dad back into church, are you really going to turn him down?” I felt so convicted. I remembered all the times before my dad really started screwing up that we spent together. So I told him he could stay with us, but that if he’s really serious about all this, he would have to prove it by going to Celebrate Recovery.

So, if you went swing dancing on Sunday night and were wondering where my wife and I were, we were rearranging all the furniture in our house to make room for a guest. And now I’m sore.

Just thought I’d share.