about our guest blogger:
Alexis Gauthier is currently 22 years old. She is a Licensed Minister in the Assemblies of God and aspires to be a Spoken Word Evangelist. She completed her undergrad in Church Ministries with a double minor in English and Journalism/Public Relations at Southeastern University, where she presently works as Graduate Assistant in the career services office while finishing grad school. Alexis gets her entrepreneurial drive, thrifty style, and committed heart from her father Frank, whom she lost to a short battle with brain cancer in 2015. In his memory, she started a movement at www.LetsBeFrank.co
It all happened on a Wednesday. There I sat pondering life, glued to the wooden chair of my personal office (also known as the local Starbucks), when all of a sudden, it dawned on me. By it, I mean the idea that everything in life boils down to TWO categories of occurrences: (1) things that happens to us, and (2) things that we make happen. There I sat on that Wednesday, fully aware and processing this newfound epiphany, yet also somewhat cognizant of the
8 hours, and
that have elapsed and contributed to this realization.
… 11 months, 20 days, 8 hours, and 3 minutes since I lost my father, and with every moment that passes, I am robbed of another moment that could have been spent in his presence. I am robbed of
the smiles he always brought to my day; I am robbed of the laughter I’d erupt with in response to his audacious humor; I am robbed of the daily phone-calls chalk-full with an even balance of both story-telling and advice-giving. I am robbed of our movie-nights, coffee-dates, and the way we never got sick of breakfast-for-dinner. I am robbed.
As I sat and thought of all I am robbed of, I realized also that: I may be robbed of new moments, but I will never be robbed of old memories.
During that Wednesday night in Starbucks, my mind kept retreating to the fact that I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to lose my father. I didn’t just wake up one morning and ask God to implant a stage-four, six centimeter, Glioblastoma brain tumor in the center of his brain. I didn’t choose it all, but it inexplicably and unavoidably happened — and just as my newfound epiphany revealed, it happened to me.
My siblings and I didn’t choose to be labeled fatherless; my step-mom didn’t choose to be titled a widow; my father’s employees didn’t choose to work without a boss; my family didn’t choose it have a gaping hole in its midst. It happened to us — and it happened SO FAST that none of us could even process what exactly was happening. The 40 days between his diagnosis and death were so full of adrenaline, that life was a blur.
But regardless of what happened to me and despite every factor that I was unable to choose, I was free to decidedly and confidently choose faith — faith that God works all things out for the good of those who love Him; faith that — even if things wouldn’t turn out how I planned — I would still serve Him; faith that He would bring purpose to my pain.
So if there’s anything that I learned in the past 11 months, 20 days, 8 hours, and 3 minutes, it’s that faith always trumps fear. I learned that at the end of the day, even my darkest day, all that matters is that my life points back to Jesus. Therefore, if my life is marked by any sort of description of who I am, I’d want to be: she is faithful.
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