Fighting for Joy

My father is bipolar. I was grocery shopping with the younger girls on Thursday (the 27th) when my mom called and asked if I had seen/talked to my dad that day. As soon as she asked, I knew, he was gone, again. He has disappeared before and turns up within 24 hours. This time he was gone for almost three days. We received a phone call from him on Saturday (the 29th) asking for our help. He had hitchhiked to Mount Sterling, Kentucky! My sister, mom and I drove through the night to pick him up. He is safely painting The Boy's room as I type. It has not been easy growing up with an erratic father. There were periods in my life when I would hold my breath every time the phone rang, fearing the news that may be at the other end of the line. I alternate between anger, grief and just a very deep desire for it all to end and to go home. Home ,where he would be whole and our relationship could be,too. Until then I am fighting hard for joy. I want to live this life well. I have been listening to John Piper's words on the fight and soaking up great comfort, while simultaneously being convicted over at this quiet corner in blog land. Last week we just pushed through. I tried to keep everything as normal as possible. This week we are slowing down and taking a deep breath. For me, this includes a lot of coffee and fabric scraps. The kids will be outdoors enjoying the return of our sunny Florida days. I apologize in advance to any dear friends who are hearing about this for the first time here. Thank you for your grace!