In Memory of Dad

This is what I shared at my Father's Funeral, Timothy Govednik, on November 4th 2013.

About two weeks ago I stopped over at my parents house to spend some time with my dad, and he was excited because he had all the materials to recreate the chocolate malts he liked so well from Snuffy’s Malt Shop. He had my mom go out and buy the vanilla ice cream, Hershey’s syrup, malted milk powder, plastic cups and straws, whipped cream in a can, a vanilla wafer to go on top, and brand new blender. He then proceeded to tell me exactly how to make it, making sure I got the consistency just right…..he didn’t want to do it himself, he wanted to watch me make it. I got it just about perfect….poured some for me and some for him, and he drank about ¼ of it and was satisfied.

That was my dad. Particular, methodical, simple but certainly had a way of doing things just right….he like what he liked, and he liked to share those things with the people he loved. He was pretty easy to please, and really content to be with the people he loved in the places he felt most comfortable. He liked to have rutabagas at Thanksgiving, Cecils deli for a special occasion, Regina’s candies for a treat…..he raved about the wings and chip dips at the manfort, wanted Davanni’s hot hoagies while watching football, and would get cravings for Zantigos cheese chilitos. He loved to talk about politics and read Time and Newsweek magazines-which he did with a pencil to mark the spots where he left off. When we were younger we used to have to go to the yard to see the symmetrical lines the lawnmower left, and shovel snow in a certain way to make the sides of the driveway perfectly even. He had ways of doing things that drove us nuts-but those are the things that make my dad who he was and make me think fondly of him now.

He loved us all being at home, and I think he was happiest then. He always asked when I was coming home and if I was staying for dinner. He loved a night in with good food and his family close by. I know he loved his croquet golf buddies at the manfort-we didn’t really know what went on there, but my mom really like that it got him out of the house! He loved to reminisce about old times-I heard stories of hitchhiking to Alaska, train jumping, summers with the Mundy’s, Christmas Eve at his home, shoveling driveways to pay for hockey sticks, and many stories that he started to tell but after he got started realized he probably shouldn’t finish it in front of his young daughter.

I think when we remember my dad we think of how fun he was, how he could be the life of the party, how he told the kind of jokes that made you just groan, how he gave his sisters noogies-as adults, how he could laugh at himself, and didn’t take things too seriously, how he somehow developed a southern accent if he was with his Texas relatives (super embarrassing!), how he dance to the oldies and loved good music, how he invested in his family, and especially how he loved kids…..I very much admire my dad and my mom for the life they invested in kids with special needs. My mom was worried that since she had my brother Greg she thought it would be hard to find someone who would want to marry into that type of commitment. My dad told her that he married her in part because of my brother, knowing she would be a good mother to the children he hoped to have. I cherish the childhood I had watching my parents give their lives to foster children living in our home. My life is richer because that loving care was modeled to me, and my dad was so good at it! Even the difficult kids. He had such a heart for that. Even though I was too young to know him as he coached hockey for many years, I know he was patient and encouraging to his young players-some being the first time they played hockey. He was my first coach and my number one fan. I think I always thought I was better than I actually was, because he was my champion and I know he took such pride in me continuing to play. He could make you feel like a million bucks, and like everything was going to be okay. He wasn’t judgemental, he was a great encourager, gave good insight and direction, and was a man of great character. He really taught me right from wrong, and in reflection I can see that he really strived to live an upright life.

In the recent years he loved to see his grandkids. Aleeya loved to come in his room and he would sneak her black licorice. Jasmin would sit on his bed and he would let her bounce around to her hearts content. Sometimes you would see Aleeya come through the kitchen pulling a leash clipped to my dads shirt collar, and my dad neighing behind her: he was her horse, Starlit, and she was leading him out of his stable (his bedroom.) He loved us so well. I think that is the best quality about my dad-when you were with him, you knew he loved you. He had loving nicknames for his kids-Greg was called “Big Time”, I was called “baby”, and my sister….getting perhaps the short end of the stick, was called “stinky.” But he said those names so lovingly…..

And that is why I am thankful-I am thankful for the privilege to grow up with a father who I knew without a doubt loved me. I never doubted that! Through disagreements and fights, through stress and heartache….he loved me. He was quick to apologize and quick to forgive. I am only filled with such grief because I was loved so well and I lost a person I loved so much. And I know he loved my mom unconditionally, she was his light and his life. He loved my sister so much, and was so proud of her….and it was his joy to see her children. He loved my brother from the beginning, and always thought of him first. And I know he loved his sisters and his extended family so much, he loved to talk about all the good times and even hard times. I know he loved his friends….he continued to tell stories of friends from 30 years ago up until the end.

He loved. And that is the hope I have. At the end of his life, in those sacred last moments we had with him, all we could say over and over was that we loved him. We wanted to hear him tell us that he loved us. And that was what it was-back and forth. I love you i love you i love you. Love brings us into this world and love is really all we have as we go out of it. God gave us such a gift with this powerful and beautiful force we call love. We have struggles, but love. We wrestle with our idols and demons, but love. We have heartache and pain, but love. The greatest gift we can extend and receive truly is love, and in my fathers life and death I have learned that more than ever. We can choose it. We can choose to receive it from God, and we can choose to if we are going to extend it to back to God, to ourselves, and to others. That is my hope even amidst death: that I wake up every day and choose love-even when it is hard, even when it hurts, even when I want to give up. God chose love for me, for us, and in this short life I want to love the best way I can. I know my dad is finally free of his worries and his burdens, wrapped in the ever present love of our great Father. I can rejoice in that.

In this time I am clinging to your prayers and support, as I am sure my mom and sister are also. I am also clinging to what I am taught in scripture, that Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
My prayer for you, as my dad’s family and friends, is that you choose a life of love. My dad didn’t need much in this life, and I think he got it right. Be with the ones you love, in the places you love…..and maybe that’s just a chocolate malt in the kitchen.

My dad died on October 29th 2013. He was at home, in his bed, with our family surrounding him. He had cirrhosis of the liver for awhile, and he was diagnosed with cancer on September 18th 2013. He went downhill quickly after that. We are thankful that he didn't have to suffer with the cancer for very long, and that he was able to leave this world quietly in the middle of the night. The candlelit room was filled with love for my dad, and we were able to hold his hand and say goodbye as he breathed his last. I poured out to God a prayer of thanksgiving for my dad whom I loved so much, for my family who will mourn for years to come, and I poured out my heartache. I had the privilege to lay next to him and weep and say my last goodbyes. I am grieved, heartbroken, yet thankful for those last moments. God is faithful.

On being a Doula

Doula: The word "doula" comes from the ancient Greek meaning "a woman who serves" and is now used to refer to a trained and experienced professional who provides continuous physical, emotional and informational support to the mother before, during and just after birth; or who provides emotional and practical support during the postpartum period. (Definition taken from the DONA International website.)

This was not a word I had even heard of before 2009. I was invited to the birth of one of my friend's firstborn, then her second born, then my sisters first...and I started to realize I was amazed by birth. Each experience caused a deep emotion to rise within me and pour out through tears as I witnessed such a sacred and holy moment. It was sometime after those three births when someone whose hair I was doing at the Aveda Institute informed me about the role of doula, and maybe I should look into it. I did, and sort of shelved it for later. As I attended the birth of my friend's third born daughter, I realized I didn't know much about birth or what was even happening during labor. I had the thoughts of studying birth in the back of my head, and I even attended a different friend's natural birth to shadow a doula in 2011, but it wasn't until my sister became pregnant for the second time in the spring of 2012 that I really considered starting the training to become certified. Another close friend getting pregnant that summer solidified the deal. I started the process in August and became officially certified through the Doulas Of North America (DONA International) in June of 2013.


I have the opportunity to work with mothers from a variety of backgrounds through an organization called Everyday Miracles. They work primarily with women who are at higher risk for poor birth outcomes and I have been overwhelmed with how much joy it is to serve women and their families through their birth experience. I also was able to support my sister through her second (totally natural!) birth as well as a few other friends along the way. Needless to say, becoming a doula has been a totally wonderful part of my life, as well as an unexpected career shift, as I thought I would be doing it just as an on the side gig. I quit my job in the salon at the end of 2012 and here I find myself with 4 mothers due in this month alone!


There are two incredible things I have learned in the past year as a doula, and I would like to share them here.


The first is that I could not be a doula without the counseling I have been seeking the past two years. I have been working, with God's grace, in developing an emotionally healthy spirituality, gaining perspective on myself and how I navigate through relationships, and learning how to love with a healthy, interdependent Christ-like love. It has been a really hard journey-but one that has changed my life and how I am in relationships. Because of this work, I feel like I can give of myself in the doula relationships I have in such a way that is free from my own baggage. I can be fully present during labor, giving out of the well of peace from Christ's love within me, rather than trying to rely on my own feeble efforts. I do believe God has given me skills and talents to work with mothers well during the experience of labor, but because of the freedom I have in Him and the freedom from my own relational damage I feel like I can give in a loving way out of a better place than I could have a few years ago. To me that is a testimony to God's faithfulness in His timing in our lives as we are obedient to Him and follow, often blindly, into unfamiliar territory. I am thankful.


The second thing I have learned is to submit to something larger than myself. I like to say I do this in my relationship with God on a regular basis, but the truth is I have a certain measure of control over my life that I daily choose to submit to God or cling to. ( I usually am doing the latter.) In birth, there is nothing you can do but be present to what is happening in labor and wait. I just wait. I watch. I am there, fully there...with no control but to choose to succumb to the steady, often slow, rhythm of labor. It is truly the only area of my life that I submit fully to patience and have no measure of control. What unfolds is incredible...every birth follows the same pattern somewhat like a song. Each is different, but follows the musical pattern of verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge....chorus...maybe a doxology in a hymn. Each birth is different, yet I usually can expect a the steady pattern of early labor, the intensity of contractions as active labor takes over, the peak of emotions and physical motion in the transition stage, and the overwhelming anticipation as the urge to push takes over. And then I know, without a doubt, that after all those hours of patience and the steady beat of a woman in labor, a baby will in fact come out. Just like that.


During a birth this winter I was sitting on a chair in the corner of a dark room, well into the night, watching the monitor steadily go up and down with each contraction as the mother slept deeply with her epidural. The labor had been long and I was coming into the awareness of the lack of control I have in being a doula, and how much patience I was learning in turning off the rest of my life for a time to be present during a birth. I was thinking how I fail so much at doing this in my faith: resting in God's presence and His timing. I know He is unfailing in His love, and He is faithful to His children...so why can't I trust that if I am submitting myself to Him that I can rest in His truth? I always try to make my own way, make my own plans and ask God to come along. In the process of birth, there is something so beautiful and so sacred when the baby comes out....whether it was 35 hours of labor or only 2, I know the labor needed to happen for the gift of life to come. I always am full of joy as I leave the hospital, knowing that the long hours were worth being able to witness the miracle of a little boy or a little girl emerge from a woman. I want to learn that same patience in my life submitted to Christ. His Kingdom is worth it. My prayer is that I can have the strength to surrender to labor in life, to dwell in the moments, and the grace to wait for the joys to come.