Called to Love (and called to pastor)

I have struggled with mild depression since I was a teenager, but it has been worse been lately.  I can see a few causes for the downward spike but a big one is the debates, well, more like verbal punches, that have been thrown around on Twitter regarding women in ministry - Complementarian (women cannot preach to men) vs. Egalitarian (women can preach to all people). That is the very simplified definition.  When I read comments like, "If you continue to hold the egalitarian position, you are deceived and not redeemed... how can an egalitarian be a saved person?" I feel oppressed and condemned.  

There are many who hold the complementarian position that does not have such an extreme view as the guy quoted above, but the bottom line for them is the same - women cannot be pastors.

I have a problem with this.  A big problem.  When I headed to Bible College 21 years ago, it was with the intention of becoming a pastor.  Yes, I detoured from that path over the years, but I have always volunteered at or worked in the church.  The church is my safe place - it has been for as long as I can remember. 

The more recovery and healing I experience, the more I feel God calling me to be a pastor.  I am scared to tell some people that because I don't want a negative response and I don't want to be made to feel that I am wrong in my thinking.  The question I keep coming back to regarding the complementarian position is: "Is God not able to call women to preach His Word?" I believe in a God who can do anything within His character.  If people are putting the cap on what God can and cannot do, that is a problem.

So, I have taken this whole debate to heart considering I truly believe God is calling me to be a pastor.  I don't want to preach on a regular basis but instead, I want to do something that I cannot find a job posting for anywhere.  I can see in my mind what the position looks like, but it seems I will have to create it somehow.  For many churches, especially small ones, the job falls on the lead, and often only, pastor.  In large churches, it is more of an administrative role with a volunteer team that are the hands and feet.  

Let me give you an idea of my dream ministry.

There is a new movie out called, "Breakthrough" where a young boy falls through the ice and has a long road to recovery.  The pastor of the church hangs out at the hospital with the parents, prays with them, listens to them, and is a support person.  His role is to simply be present.  

Last week we had a lady fall and sustain an injury that required a trip to the ER.  I drove her there, sat with her for over 3 hours, and made sure she got home safely.  My role was to simply be present.

And, that is what I want to do.  I want to be present for those who are suffering, hurting, going through difficult times, experiencing pain, and whatever else life can throw at people.  I want to be a Care Pastor - the one who gets the call in the middle of the night because someone's family member was in an accident. Or, a call to have prayer for a sick friend.  Or, to hold someone's hand as they pass into eternity.  Or, to sit with at the hospital in the midst of the unknown.  Or, have someone sitting in my office who is suffering from the "splashover from hell" (Joni Eareckson Tada, When God Weeps).

There's no job posting for that.

So, I started to doubt myself.  Maybe I'm not actually being called. After all, women can't be pastors. And, if there is a job that fits my dream, I have yet to see it. On top of that is a lot of fear of what certain people would think, questions of whether I could really have a ministry like that, and whether, as a woman, my dream is even possible.

Thankfully, God has a way of getting my attention and giving me the encouragement I need at the exact time I need it. 

As I was getting ready for church this morning, I decided to listen to my devotion for the day from a YouVersion devotional called, "Embracing Who You Are: Loving How God Made You" by Gather Ministries.  As I listened, tears ran from my eyes.  Here is a little bit of what God says about us:

You are made to love uniquely, in the unique way I’ve made you to do it. You are whom I have made you to be when you love the way only you can. 

Your love—my love in you—is hope for people I love. It is kindness and compassion and gentleness and service. My love in you is what equips you to give freely and love without boundaries. Only when you love freely, with your personality and with your gifts—can my freedom be experienced in you. And that is what people find captivating.  

Me in you? That is what is captivating. That is what shines. That is what brings people hope. That is what lets you care less about productivity and more about being with Me. When you are with Me, you are loving. And when you are loving, you are experiencing my freedom; you inhabit my space. It is what you have been designed to live.

Joy. Freedom. Hope.

So don’t second guess how I’ve made you. I only made one you. Only one. You are the only one, my daughter. So inhabit my love and you will love in abundance without having to try. Because you will be being yourself.  

God is calling me to love the way He created me to love.  When I love in that way, my fears will leave because "there is no fear in love for perfect love casts out fear" (1 John 4:18). 

God created me to love others in a unique way - so unique that there is no job posting for it.  I don't know God's plan of how it will all play out, but what I do know is I need to be true to the person God made me to be and love people the way He created me to love. 

That, my friend, is freedom. 

Fabulous, Fathered, Fearless Forty

I have done a lot of things in light of turning forty this year.  It started on January 29th when I got the stomach flu.  Since everything was out of my system I figured it was a good time to start eating healthy, so I began a whole foods lifestyle.  Since that time I have lost thirty pounds.  On April 5th, I decided to take it a step further and begin my forties as a vegetarian.  That is going well so far.

As many of you know, I grew up without an earthly father.  He rejected me my whole life. I have always known that God in Heaven is my Father, but I have never truly been able to accept Him into my life as such.  A few weeks ago I visited my friend's church and we sang "No Longer Slaves." There is a line in that song that goes, "I am surrounded by the arms of a Father."  After that line, God came down to me.  He was right in front of me and He said, "Paula, let Me be your Father."  He didn't ask, and He didn't demand, yet His comment commanded a response.  Another line in the song says, "I'm no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God." When I put the two lines together, things made so much sense to me.  When I can accept that God is my Father and I am His child, that's the sweet place where I no longer have to fear.  Being the analyst and processor that I am, I didn't answer God right away.  In fact, it took a few weeks.  I didn't want to frivilously give my "yes" without putting my heart into what I was saying yes to.  So, the other night, with tears steaming down my face, I said yes to allowing God to be my Father.  After forty years of feeling fatherless, I am starting this decade with a Father and without fear.  I am excited to see what that combination has in store for me.

I have to admit that I in no way, shape, or form wanted to turn forty.  In fact, that's the reason I shut down Facebook  - so no one would know it was my birthday.  I told my kids I wasn't celebrating this year.  A friend wanted to have something delivered for me and I told him no. I wanted no acknowledgement of the day.  Now, perhaps I selfish and controlling, maybe even a little crazy, but I decided to order myself a birthday cupcake cake and bring some to all those people who were involved in my day and ask them to celebrate with me.  It started last night when I brought a cupcake to a friend I had coffee with,  Then this morning I brought some into my church office.  I knew there was Bible Study going on so I shared cupcakes with those friends and coworkers.  And, they sang to me.  This afternoon I worked at the paralegal office, so I also shared cupcakes with them.  And, my boss to me there.  I had a birthday supper with Kaden, then this evening I had a meeting so I took cupcakes to celebrate with them.  When I got home, Kaden had a friend over and they sang and dropped a beat to Happy Birthday for me and had a cupcake.  In total, I celebrated my birthday with 21 friends!!! That's so cool! On top of that, I got cards, money, a book, a beautiful letter, and my favourite gift of all... hugs!!!

As much as I did not want to turn forty, it happened.  And, here I am.  However, I did not just allow it to happen, I took it by horns partied all day!  Yes, it was on my own terms, but I think that is totally okay.  As a Fabulous, Fathered, Fearless Forty year old, I can choose how I want to celebrate. And, it was Fantastic!  Thank you to all my friends who helped me celebrate and made this day one I will remember for a long time.  Love you all!!

Watch out! Fearless Forty year old on the loose!  I am excited to see what this year and decade will bring and what God is going to do in my life!

Discrimination

The cold, dark waves rush upon the seashore as I sit here crouched into an undersized ball.  I feel alone despite the people surrounding me.  Though I am faint, my heart is racing inside my trembling figure.

As the evening's events roll through my mind, I am unaware of the shadow creeping up behind me.  I now sense this uncomfortable presence and I freeze with fright.

Unwarned of this visitor, I try to stay as calm as possible, with the sudden realization that we are the only two left on the beach.  A voice breaks the silence.  It is a male, a male I have known for many years of my young life.

In exasperation, I promptly turn to lay my wearied head on his muscular shoulders, and the tenseness of my breathing begins to regulate.

As I slowly progress to becoming myself again, I have gained the courage to tell this man what incident has taken place on this dreadful night.

He just sits here listening intently to every phrase and letter I say.  I feel very secure knowing his total attention is on me.

I told him about the significant acts of those people who were considered to be my close acquaintances.  Their words of degrading absurdity scurry over and over in my thought-filled mind as I tell the man each and every sentence that was said against me.

To my utmost surprise, the figure next to me begins to chuckle.  This being the first move since he sat down made my body tense.  He tells me I am overexaggerating what was suppose to be harmless, and he gets up to leave my side. 

Here I am again, alone.  This time with no one around.  Can I help the colour of my skin?  Does it really matter?  I just wish I could live one day without enduring judgment, or any distinction, between me and the rest of the world.

Paula Rumbolt

October 7, 1996

Perfect Design (flawed execution)

It's been eight and a half years since I wore these rings.  And, yes, I still have them.  I considered selling them but it never worked out.  Some have suggested melting them down into another piece of jewelry, but that made no sense to me - it's still the same material.  I thought about keeping them for my daughter, but what in the world would she do with the rings of her divorced mother?  

The truth is I love my wedding rings.  In fact, sometimes I will put them on just to admire them on my finger.  

And, as strange as this may sound, I want to wear them.  

When the engagement ring was first put on my finger twenty years ago, it was with the intention that we would be together forever.  

On December 15, 1998, I was having supper in the cafeteria at the college.  My boyfriend arrived and joined me at the table.  He was acting really strange.  He said he needed to talk to me, but “not here.”  I suggested that we go for a walk and he agreed.  After getting my coat and boots on, we walked to our favourite park.  Everything was covered in snow, so we just stood there together.  My boyfriend was still acting strange and I wondered what he needed to talk to me about that was making him so nervous.

A couple of minutes later, he pulled a box out of his pocket and opened it up.  Inside was a beautiful gold and white gold ring with a diamond in the middle. I threw my arms around him and was screaming.  I couldn’t stop jumping up and down and screaming.  After a few moments, I calmed down long enough to ask him if he had actually asked me to marry him.  In my excited screaming, I didn’t even hear him ask the question. He assured me that he asked, and then put the ring on my finger.  It fit perfectly.

He is the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.  

Sadly things did not turn out the way I had always dreamed of.  I imagined getting married, having children, celebrating events together, watching our children graduate, loving our grandchildren, and growing old together.  

I never dreamed of getting divorced. 

And, while I would never want to be back in the abusive marriage I was in for eleven years, I grieve the dreams that will never come true.  

Many people say, "You will find someone else."  What if I don't want anyone else?  What if I don't want another husband?  What if he was the only one for me and we completely blew it? 

I made a choice to get married - right or wrong is irrelevant - and in God's sight, he is my husband.  He is the man I became "one flesh" with... how then can we become separate flesh again?

This is not about whether or not I had grounds for divorce.  I knew that staying in the marriage was detrimental to the kids and me.  I believe I did the right thing by getting out.  Nonetheless, that is not how marriage was designed.  We should have been partners for life.  

According to Portfolio of Fine Diamonds, this is what wedding rings represent, "A circle has no beginning or end and is therefore a symbol of infinity. It is endless, eternal, just the way love should be. For many the wedding ring is worn on the fourth finger of the left hand. This is because the vein in this finger was believed to lead directly to the wearer's heart."

As much as I made this promise to my husband, I also made this promise to God.  I made a covenant with God to love my husband for the rest of my life.  The covenant with God was the most important one I made that day.  And, I am not ready to break that. 

So, I am going to wear my rings again.  Not as a symbol of the promise I made to my husband, but as a symbol of God's infinite, eternal, endless love for me.  He is the beginning and the end.  He is living in my heart. Even though I messed up the design for marriage, God has never stopped loving me.  And, until God says otherwise, I will wear my rings as a reminder that God and I are a team.  God is my partner.  He will never hurt me, abuse me, take advantage of me, or leave me.  God is the creator of love and He is the only person who models it perfectly.  

Tonight I renew my vows, commitment, and promise to God to love Him and live for Him all my days. I promise to serve Him with the gifts and talents He has blessed me with.  I submit my life and will to God's care and control.

Let's do this!

Living Life (but thinking death)

I thought about ending my life for 25 years. 

It started shortly after the assault in grade eight. I would walk around the harbour in our small town, and as I walked over the bridge I would stop, look down at the water streaming by below, and something inside me would create a longing to climb up and jump over into the water.  I would also bring a bottle of Tylenol to school with me and take two every couple of hours. One night I was laying on the couch, alone in the dark, and I held a knife to my wrist.  

The next instance I can remember doing something physical to express my thoughts of wanting to end my life was on my fifth wedding anniversary.  My ex said something to make me feel like garbage, he put the kids in the car, and I sat on the kitchen floor holding a large knife to my wrist. 

A few years later, when the abuse was really starting to take a toll on my mental health, I often considered driving my car into an oncoming transport truck and wondered how I could do it so that it looked like an accident. 

One would think that after getting out the marriage the thoughts would subside.  Well, they didn't.  I continued to battle suicidal thoughts almost every day. With every low, every rejection, every criticism, and every lie from the enemy, my default thinking would be to just end my life.

It's not that I wanted to die... it's that I wanted the pain to end. 

A year ago this month, my suicidal thoughts were consuming me on a regular basis, and I decided to decide once and for all whether to live or die.  Actually, I gave myself three choices:

1. Live and Follow Jesus

2. Stay and Believe in Jesus

3. Leave and Meet Jesus

I wrote out my reasons for insisting I make a decision, the Cost/Benefit for each option, and detailed processing about other implications surrounding the decision I needed to make.  Then, I gave myself a deadline to make my choice. 

On February 24th, 2018, I made the decision to Live and Follow Jesus.  

I took the suicide option off the table. 

Was it easy to maintain? Not always.  I had 25 years of thinking about death to rewrite.  I had to learn a new method of dealing with the intense feelings I did not want to face.  I had to consistently tell myself that suicide is not an option and instead find a healthy way to process my hurt and pain.  It was not easy at the beginning.  But, with time, the power of God, and the help of my accountability team, I can now celebrate one year of Choosing Life! 

For the first time in my remembered life, I go for weeks without suicide even crossing my mind.  God has done such healing in my heart and mind that I now say, "I don't want to die yet!"

I am grateful to be alive.  God has given me a purpose for being here, and I am excited to be living that out.  He has put incredible people in my life that contribute to my wellbeing more than they realize.  Is it easy? No, of course not.  Life still has the same kinds of issues, but I now have healthy strategies in place to deal with it.  My Celebrate Recovery team is absolutely amazing and I am so blessed to be journeying with them.

We sang a song on Sunday called Living Hope. A line in that song says, "Death has lost its grip on me."  When I sang that line I started to cry.  It has a significant meaning for me now.  

I can honestly say, death has lost its grip on me.  Praise Jesus!

How I Survived Sexual Assault (and how the adults dropped the ball)

Disclaimer: This is a difficult post for me to write.  It is as honest as I can be from the memories I have.  My intention is not to inflict blame or guilt on anyone mentioned.  I understand that if they would have known better, they would have done better.  I hold no resentments towards anyone mentioned.


I did all the right things.  I said, "no" repeatedly.  I pushed his hand away.  I kept walking away.  After touching me inappropriately on five different occasions, and him getting more aggressive each time, I knew that what he was doing to me could not continue.  I knew what he was doing was wrong, and my "no" was not enough for him.

Let me back up a little.  When I was in grade eight, I started at a new school.  I wanted to fit in, and about six months into the school year, an older male student started showing me attention.  Our first interaction was not a conversation.  I was standing in the empty cafeteria as lunch was ending, and I was looking at one of those "Got Milk?" posters.  Remember those?  Famous people with a milk mustache.  Funny stuff.  As I stood there looking at the female celebrity sitting on a chair with milk on her upper lip, I felt an eerie presence.  I suddenly startled as the figure behind me began touching me inappropriately.  I turned to see who it was and walked out of the room.

Following that incident, I was on Ned's* radar.  He called me one night, he purposely showed up wherever I was, and he was sexually inappropriate with me several times.

One night I got the courage to talk to a friend of mine about what Ned was doing.  She encouraged me to talk to a female teacher, and the next day I did just that. When I told her, the first words that came out of her mouth were, "I don't believe it... well, I do, but he's one of my students.  I can't believe he would do that... I've heard of sexual abuse but I have never had to deal with it."

After telling the teacher, I went on to report Ned to the police and he was sentenced to two years probation.

I continued doing everything right.

Although I took all the right steps in bringing my abuser to justice, the adults in my life dropped the ball when it came to helping me recover from the trauma.

It was a small town and everyone knew what happened, yet none of them truly took the time to listen to me and allow me to talk about my feelings.

Examples:

- The female teacher - didn't initially believe me, then blamed me for Ned's suicide attempt saying, "He feels bad."
- The guidance counsellor - tried his best, since he was my only option for help, but made light of it when I brought up a particular situation and I didn't go see him again.
- My homeroom teacher - I brought it up in my school journal to which he replied, "I'm glad you told us!" He never brought it up in person.
- Kid's Help Phone - I told my story, and he thought there was a discrepancy so he said, "Call back when you have a real problem" and hung up the phone.  I never called back.
- A lady from town - I went to her when I was suicidal, but we never talked about the cause of my depression.
- Family members - none reached out, and I wasn't allowed to be sad or depressed.

Positives: 

- 100 Huntley Street - I wrote them a letter, and they wrote me back an empathizing letter and included a booklet for sufferers of sexual abuse.  It was the only literature I received about what I was experiencing, and I read that thing over and over again.  It was my book of hope.

- One friend that I was able to just hang out with and exchange letters with.  I didn't talk about the emotions associated with what I went through, but I knew she was there for me.  She was my best friend.

The high school kids were no better.  Not long after I reported the abuse, an older student sat on my lap, with other students around, touched me inappropriately, and asked, "Are you going to charge me with sexual abuse, too?"  Then in grade ten when I was dating a guy, a student stood up on our crowded school bus and said to my boyfriend, "You better be careful around Paula or she will charge you with sexual abuse" and proceeded to laugh.

What I unknowing learned through the whole experience was to keep quiet, and the biggest thing I lost was my voice.  Ned took my power, and the onlookers took my voice.

So, where is the Hope in this sad story? 

First of all, I survived a traumatic experience.  I somehow had the instinct to take the necessary steps, and justice was served.

Secondly, I went on to live a fairly normal life.  Yes, I was hurt again, but I survived that, too.  I developed the heart of a survivor.  

Thirdly, and most importantly, was something that I discovered recently.  As I was going through the poems I had written over the years, there were two I wrote in grade nine.  Both poems talked about how there was no one there for me, that no one understood what I was going through, and they both concluded with how I turned to God and He listened and "paid the most attention."

My faith and trust in God are what saved me.  I knew He was there for me, and it seems I talked to Him a lot.  I listened to Christian music that encouraged my soul; songs that expressed what I couldn't.

"There's no more sunshine, there's only heartache.  Cause all you've been living for is gone now you're a victim once again.  
Crying comes easy, now that it's over.  You try to forget but still, the hurt won't heal.  It's more than you can bear.
When your burdens get too heavy, and the nights get oh so lonely. God will bring you through if only, you lay all on Him.
Funny how something so good can go bad.  How could this happen to you?  It's so amazing what God wants to do, so don't worry, I know, that He'll work it out for you.
When you feel your world's been shaken, and the best of you's been taken, God knows your heart is aching, so lay it all on Him.  No, you haven't been forsaken, so lay it all on Him." (Mike Eldred)

God was there.  He was there the whole time.  Through it all.  Yes, people failed me - they always will. But, God never did.  I believe that my relationship with my heavenly Father was solidified during this difficult situation.  My belief in Him was strong, and I knew I could turn to Him.

I survived the trauma because God was with me.  

I don't know what experiences you are facing in your life today, but I assure you that God is right there with you.  When everyone in your life drops the ball, God catches it. He's here for you.  Talk to Him... He's waiting and He's listening.  He loves you and longs for a relationship with you. Reach out to Him.

What to do if you know someone who has been assaulted:

- Reach out to them and let them you know you are there.
- Check in with them regularly (use your intuition, and read the signs from the victim)
- Listen.  Just listen.  Allow them to share whatever they need to share.  You don't have to have the answers.  Victims just want to be heard and believed - that's where healing begins.

That's a good start.  Every situation is different.  The main thing is help them feel less alone.  Be there.  Simply be there.

*Name is changed

My Father (or lack thereof, really) Part 2

Despite the lack of relationship with my biological father (if you haven't read Part 1, find it here), God has put several men in my life over the years who have helped teach me about what it is like to have a father.

First and foremost was Poppy Rumbolt.  I lived with him until I was 7 years old.  So, during the very important formative years of my young life, Poppy was a positive, nurturing, disciplining, Godly influence in my life.  Because I was the oldest grandchild, I was sometimes more like one of his children than his grandchild.  Poppy would do almost anything for me, including getting me cheese when he asked what I wanted at the store.  On some Sunday nights, just the two of us would go to church.  Sometimes, he would even let me lay on his lap, which was generally a no-no for church.  I remember him frying eggs for evening lunch, playing church with me, and being on his knees praying with us as a family.  He would skip rope with me, take me out in boat, and take me for rides in his "bumpy truck."  Poppy would always ask me to go get him when Ernie and Bert would come on Sesame Street - they were his favourite.  I felt proud every time I was with him.  We always shared a very special bond, and I love him more than any other man in my life.  Poppy went to Heaven in March of 2017, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't miss him, but I am so grateful that I will see him again on eternity's shore where we will live together forever.  

There were two periods of time where my mom and I lived in the same town as my Aunt Maxine and Uncle Wayne.  Once was after my mom and I moved out of Grammie and Poppy's house, and the other was when we moved back from Saskatchewan.  During our years there, Uncle Wayne was like a father to me.  He would always take me along when he took his boys somewhere, such as going to set rabbit snares, or fishing, or moose hunting.  He also taught me the correct way to eat soup, how to play Rook, and proper general etiquette.  

Over the years, there have been men in my life that played a dad-type role, for a season.  Uncle John was around when I was little, my other Uncle John when I was in grade 12, and several pastors have guided me along my journey.  

During the summer before I started grade 11, my mom got married, and I received a step-dad.  He was the first man I had lived with since Poppy.  He immediately accepted me as one of his own (he had three teenage daughters already).  I always felt like I was a part of his family.  He took care of me, loved me, and showed me what it was like to have a dad.  I am so grateful that God brought our lives together.  

It can sometimes be too easy to blame God for not allowing me to have my biological father in my life.  And, I admit, I have done that a lot over the years.  Although I had several amazing men in my life, there was always a part of me that wanted my father, my flesh and blood.  I wanted to know who I came from, and what traits I got from him.

Then, there was the way God identifies Himself in the Bible - "God the Father."  I had some ideas of what a father could be, but it was difficult to truly attach the "Father" attribute to God when what I knew about my earthly father was the opposite.  God, as Father, knit me together in my mother's womb, He chose to create my life, He loves me unconditionally, and He will never leave me.  As much as I would sing lyrics like, "I am a child of God," "You are a good, good Father," and "in my Father's house there's a place for me," I couldn't fully reconcile God the Father to be that way when my earthly father wants nothing to do with me, rejects me over and over again, and has never welcomed me into his home.  I struggled with this concept my whole life.

I couldn't figure out why my Heavenly Father would not allow me to have a relationship with my earthly father. That is, until a few days ago.

After reading my last post, a minister God recently placed in my life, and who has already been a blessing to me in so many ways, sent me a sermon he preached about a year ago on the topic of Father-God.  God used this message to completely change my perspective on Him as my Father: 

"In the same way, if God, like that ideal ancient father, was really committed to giving the best opportunities for all his children no matter who they were, then surely God’s concern for them wouldn’t be limited by social status."

If this is true, and God really is committed to giving me the best opportunities, then I must believe that God knew I would have those best opportunities by not having my father in my life.  I must believe that the life God gave me is His best for me.  I must believe that this life, even with its many challenges, is not only better than what I would have had with my biological father, but it is actually God's very best for me. 

My healing journey just took a huge leap forward.  I now believe that God chose this life for me because it has His best opportunities for me here.  One of my favourite verses growing up, and still today, is Romans 8:28, "We are confident that God is able to orchestrate everything to work toward something good and beautiful when we love Him and accept His invitation to live according to His plan." (The Voice Translation)

I have to admit that most of my life I did not like God's plan of me not having my biological father in my life.  I thought God was keeping the best from me. I mean, how could having my father in my life not be the best thing?  This is where trust comes in. I can trust that God is committed to giving me the best opportunities, because He really, really is a Good, Good Father, and the evidence of that goodness in my life is overwhelming.  

Father God, thank you for this 'best' life and 'best' opportunities You have given me. Thank you for giving Scott the exact words I needed to hear from You, and opening my heart to trust You as my Father.  I look forward to this new dynamic of our relationship - Your beloved, chosen daughter, and her loving, perfect, protective Father - walking this best life together. Amen.