One Year Ago and A Thousand Nights

One Year Ago and A Thousand Nights

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

2/10/23

One year ago I was at the hospital with my Dad. I had a premonition to take off work the next day because I knew he was going to die. I did not want my step mom to be alone either. It was one of those times that I wish I was not there; yet I would not havr been anywhere else but by my Daddy's side. I had called and texted my brother several times begging him to come be there with us. My brother finally managed to find time, get permission from his wife or whatever reason he had for not being around to come. 

My memory of time is a little blurry but I know it was the wee hours of the morning when the Physicians Assistant came in to talk to us. My Dad had just had a bout of tachycardia and they got his heartbeat back to normal. He was having a hard time breathing and could not talk. The Physicians Assistant asked him if he wanted them to take every measure to try and save him. He nodded yes. She said they would try.

I remember sleeping in a folding chair next to his bed. It is amazing what we can withstand when we love someone so deeply. I would doze off for a few, then wake up and pray. Sometimes my Dad would grab my hand for me to hold his. I held hands and watched TV with him every evening for 3 months before he died. Oh what I would give to do that again! 

We got through the night and I thought there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe I was wrong. Surely he would pull through. The day drug by as if in slow motion. A few hours before he died his oxygen level started going down. They tried the bipap but it did not help. They decided to put him on a ventilator and made us leave the room. A few minutes later the lung doctor came and got us. She said his lung had collapsed. They could put a tube in his lung but there was no guarantee he would make it and asked what we wanted to do. We decided to go see Dad and then make a decision. My Daddy was so weak and frail. I told my step mom he had been through too much. She told the doctor to stop everything. They took the ventilator off of him and let us back in the room. 

I do not know how long we stood by him, me on one side, my stepmom on the other and brother at his feet. It could have been 5 minutes or 5 hours, I do not know. It was as if time stood still. I just remember never letting go of my Daddy's hand and him never letting go of mine. Our eyes were locked in a gaze for the longest time. I finally told him, "Daddy just go home. It's okay, just go home. I'll be there with you some day. Till then I'll be okay and I'll take care of Linda. I promise I will." Right after that he gently squeezed my hand and died.

Everyone thinks that I am strong but I tell you I am not. I collapsed to my knees by his hospital bed and sobbed uncontrollably for I do not know how long. My brother and my stepmom had left the room and I was there alone. I felt like my whole world crashed down around me. I lost the one man that I have loved the longest, for my whole life. We had our rough patches in life but our love for eachother always guided us back. He was my hero, my confidant, my best friend, my safe place in this crazy world. I did not know how I would go on without him. I finally composed myself, kissed my Daddy on his forehead and said goodbye.

I wish I could say that my family all pulled together and helped us get through the funeral and everything. Sadly, those who I now call my siblings because they do not deserve the title brother or sister in my life, were nowhere to be found. I tried to get them to pull together with me and help bury our Father but they were too busy fighting over control of money that was never there, to be of any sort of support to my stepmom and I. Had it not been for my children, grandchildren and husband I do not know how I would have made it through it all.

Because my siblings refused to be a part of anything, I wrote my Father's obituary and eulogy, I planned the agenda for the memorial service and I designed and printed the cards for the service. My daughter helped my stepmom with scheduling everything. My son and his wife handled the video and music for the service. I officiated the memorial service. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. Yet, as the oldest child, I wanted to make my Father proud. 

I did the best I could every step of the way, all while being assaulted and lied about on social media by my siblings. It is so sad to me that they have never realized how much I loved them. After all the emotional and verbal abuse and other stuff they pulled, they have obliterated the bridge back to me. That is on them. See, I know in my heart I did what was right by my Father and I have no regrets.

After the dust settled and life went back whatever normal was for everyone else, it was not normal for me and I do not believe it will be ever again. I miss my Dad with every fiber of my being. It has been one year but I feel like I have cried a thousand nights. I do not know if I will ever stop crying. I do not know if I will ever stop having moments when I forget and try to call or text my Dad. I do not if my shattered, broken heart will ever heal.

I keep myself busy and push myself to take joy in little things. One of my greatest pleasures are my grandchildren. I love them very deeply. Each one of them has a special place in my heart and always will. They are the oil of joy for my broken heart.

I know that my Dad would tell me to pull it together and stop being so sad. I try to keep myself occupied. I started quilting. I enjoy doing it. I think it is very therapeutic too. I am working on a blanket of valor for my Dad right now. I stopped in the middle of making it and made my grandson one for his birthday in December. I felt like my Dad would want it that way. When I finish his blanket of valor I am going to make my granddaughters, my son, daughter and step mom one too. I am sure I will make one for my mom, daughter in love and husband too. So, I will have plenty to keep me busy for awhile. Quilting does not take away the fact that my Dad is gone but it keeps me focused. So, it is part of my new normal.

I have rambled enough. I just wanted to stop and remember my Daddy tonight. I hold on to the hope that I will see him again some day in Heaven. The love we share is still alive and will never die. I love you my sweet Daddy. You will never be forgotten. 

God's Wrath

God's Wrath 

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

2/7/23

I personally choose not to focus on God's wrath. As a child and young, troubled adult, the threat of God's wrath was used as what I consider a form of spiritual abuse by so called Christians who went to church on Sunday and looked really pretty and righteous; yet in reality outside of church were nothing more than white washed tombs. They used the threat of His wrath to belittle me and try to scare me into hanging on to "my salvation" lest I die and go to hell without Him. So, frankly, they did nothing more than make me hate God and church.

When I got sober at 23 years old, I found Jesus again at the foot of my bed in tears and crying in desparation for help. I did not find Him again in a church. Some people do, and that is awesome. It just was not my path. When I found the Lord again, I experienced His unconditional tender love and certainly undeserved grace and mercy. That same love is what has carried me through life's peaks and valleys. The Lord has granted me the daily gift of sobriety ever since that day at the foot of my bed. 

I remember some time in my first year of sobriety telling God that if the only reason I had to serve Him was because I was afraid of Him, then I would not do it. I was not going to be another white washed tomb. I begged Him to reveal Himself to me in a way no one ever had. I demanded that He prove to me that He was more than wrath and fear.

Over the next few months, the Lord came to me in very quiet yet beautiful and loving ways. Things happened that no human, including me, could take credit for. He showed me the immense love He had for me, if I would only open up and receive it. He showed me that He loved me just as much when I was face down in my puke drunk as He does today all these years later sober.

Over the years, I have come to realize that the "wrath" I experienced that drove me to my knees was self-imposed. It had nothing to do with God at all. See, I understand today when I turn away from the Lord, my very act of pushing Him out of my life opens the gates of hell and wrath upon me. I do it to myself. Yet, He is still there begging me to turn around. I know for a fact that when I was in the grips of the wrath of alcoholism the Lord was there to cover me at times and take on the wrath, so I would live another day.  He kept calling me home to Him even though I would not listen. I am so grateful He did not give up on me when everyone else did. 

I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I am a spiritual being having a human experience. I battle with my humanness every day. Some days are better than others. I have learned that God is not the enemy. He is my ever loving Abba Father. As long as I keep my focus on Jesus, admit to Him when I am wrong, do my best to clean up my messes and let His grace and mercy flow through me; the amount of wrath I experience in my life is pretty much non existent. 

 It is not about me getting perfect before I run to Him. It is about me letting Him love me just the way I am; put together, or pulled apart. It does not matter. It is all about His love. Honestly, there is not a word in the human language that I have found yet that adequately describes His love. I suspect one does not exist.

So, if everything looks chaotic and maybe even what I call "wrathy" in your life, focus on JESUS. His love, grace, and mercy truly do endure forever. I am living proof. 

God's Invisible Qualities

God's Invisible Qualities

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

2/3/23

We are doing a study on Romans at my church. We have an online discussion board and I really like it. Especially considering I write better than I speak. The current question on it is how do I see God's invisible qualities in my life in reference to the first chapter of Romans. I have been letting this question ruminate in my heart and mind for a couple of days. I do not know if this will make any sense to anyone or if it goes exactly with the discussion, but it is what is on my heart to share, so here goes.

I saw God's invisible qualities in a recent encounter with one of my granddaughters in the last few days. She is 17 years old. Her and her mom (my daughter) and sister live many states away. We are close in spite of the miles between us. Our love for each other always finds a way to bring us together.

She recently got her heart broken by her first, now ex-boyfriend. It has been devastating for her. I have been texting her encouraging words and memes every day. The other night, she called me via video chat, and we sat and talked for at least 2 hours. I had been in my own funk that day. My father died a few months ago, and grief had me by the throat right when she called.

As we began to talk, it was as if time stood still for me. Nothing else mattered, but my granddaughter. I listened to her heart, and I saw the beautiful spirit she had. She talked about her love for the Lord and how confusing and sad everything has been. I did my best to give her encouragement in spite of the fact that I felt so empty inside. We ended our call with a prayer. It was a very sacred time between me and her.

Over the last few days, I have reflected about those holy moments I shared with her. God always gives me those moments out of nowhere when I am not paying attention to the move of His spirit and when I need them the most. I definitely did not feel like I had much to give to her at the time. Actually, even though she does not know it, she gave more to me. In those sacred moments, she was the oil of joy to my broken heart. My granddaughter sent me a text last night and told me how much that time together meant to her and that she is doing better.

God always does things in the quiet, invisible ways. He is so loving and omniscient, yet He does not need to call attention to Himself. He just lets His beautiful Holy Spirit move. When it moves it is breathtakingly gorgeous. It is always just what we need in that moment.

I do not believe in coincidences. I believe in holy moments. I am very grateful for His invisible qualities and never-ending, unconditional love. His grace and mercy are beyond words to me. Most of all, I am blessed to have holy moments with my beautiful granddaughter Bella. ❤️