Lindsay's Story

When I was growing up, I was daddy's little girl. Mom and I got along fine, but dad was my hero. When I was 5 years old I asked him if he would marry me. He kindly explained why that wouldn't be possible. My dad helped me with my homework, read me bedtime stories, and encouraged me to play tee-ball when I was 9.

As it turned out, I was pretty good at baseball and was selected to play on a travel softball team when I was 12. Dad took great interest in my ability to play baseball, and hoped that I might receive a scholarship to go to university when I grew up. We practiced pitching together, throwing 200 pitches almost everyday. In the winter, we coloured the ball with an orange marker so we wouldn't lose it in the snow. My dad wanted to play catch with me no matter what! If I was grounded or getting on his last nerve, when we were playing catch, I was no longer in trouble.

Then dad got sick. It started out as a cough and developed into bronchitis and pneumonia. But those were only symptoms of the real problem. Dad had his first brain surgery in May 1991. They found out through the surgery that he had many brain tumours - 7 to be exact.

For the next 5 years, dad was in and out of the hospital every few months or so, to have surgery on one thing or another. The frustrating thing was that the doctors couldn't seem to agree on a diagnosis. He didn't have cancer - they knew that for sure - but they didn't know what it was that he did have. On February 26, 1996 my dad lost his battle with a disease that has had only 200 other reported cases in the world (lymphomatoid granulomatosis). I was 19 years old and my life was shattered.

The following two years were so painful that I drank every day to ease the pain of my loss. I gradually grew out of that, as I realized it was causing the hole in my heart to grow larger. But I still drank on weekends, and always had a relationship of some kind going on.

Some say that time eases the pain of losing a loved one. That wasn't true for me. It seemed like time only made it worse because I believed that I would never see my dad again. I spent some time in church when I was growing up, but had grown out of that. I didn't need God to set rules in my life. I was tough and had become an atheist who did not believe in life after death. I felt that no one would ever treat me as well, or be as supportive, or love me with the purity that my dad did.

I was so unhappy. I thought that this is what life is like when you grow up. I seriously wondered if there was any good reason to continue on with life if it was this terrible.

A year and a half went by while I searched to find some reason to continue on. I was in Environmental Studies at the University of Windsor during this time. I began to think that I could make a difference with my life by protecting the earth. I thought I would finally be happy again, when I was out there saving the environment.

I didn't know it, but God had other plans for my life. Has your mother ever tried to set you up on a date with someone? Well, my mom came home one day raving about this tall, handsome young man that she met at work, who would be just perfect for me. I told her no thanks - I didn't need any help from mom to find a boyfriend.

On Mothers Day, 2004, I finally met this man whom my mom had been talking about. It happened like this: As my mother was crossing the street to get into the car with me, he almost ran her over. He was on his way home from church to call my mom and wish her a happy Mother's Day. And there she was - right in front of him crossing the street! He pulled over and we all got out to say hi. I was lost at the words they first said to each other; they said something about this being "divine intervention" (later on I found out it meant that God had caused us to meet like that).

Well, I became friends with Dave. He believed in God and had a relationship with Jesus Christ. We spent a lot of time talking about God. He kept telling me how much God loves us. It made me wonder if God would actually love ME, someone who chose for so long not to acknowledge him. I had said that I didn't even believe he existed. Yet I found myself asking questions that I didn't really want to know the answers to.

I always thought that people who trusted in God were recovering alcoholics or ex-criminals. I started to realize that those are things that happen to us gradually, when we try to take charge of our own lives and solve our problems on our own. I learned that God created us to have a relationship with him. God is love! Without God, where does love come from? For me, it had come from my dad.

On June 23, 2004, I confessed my sins to Jesus and asked him to be the Lord of my life. I thought that this was the last chance for something or someone to make a difference in my life, and I didn't think anything was actually going to happen. But after a month of reading the Bible every day and learning to pray for the first time, I genuinely thanked God for giving me 19 years to get to know my dad. That was a miracle all in itself since I had been so angry and bitter for so many years since he was gone.

When Jesus entered my life he started to fix the brokenness in me. I remember one day noticing how clear my thinking had become. I wasn't worrying anymore; I wasn't making bad decisions based on how I felt. I could feel God's love. I found the peace I had been looking for. It was like I had a ball and chain attached to me, and the ball was filled with all the hurt and guilt and shame I had ever experienced in my life. All of that was lifted and I felt free.

And about that tall, handsome, young man: He has been my husband since January 29, 2005. We got married on my dad's birthday.