As we approach Father's Day, thoughts of Dad return with vigor. Thoughts of, "Hey, I need to call Dad tomorrow," or "It sure would be great to hear his voice again." Many fond memories flood my thoughts these days, just as fresh and vibrant as the day they occurred.
I remember going with Dad to the airport to fly somewhere and watching him at the ticket counter. He exchanged tickets for boarding passes so we all gained permission to go to our destination. I imagine something similar happened when my Dad was called home to heaven. It may have gone something like this:
God's angel: "So, are you ready to go?"
Dad: "Not quite yet. I want to hang on a little longer for my family."
Angel: "They're all here. And they're singing."
Dad: "I'm not just talking about my sons, daughter, and wife. Everyone who I considered a friend is my family, too. We're all part of God's family."
Angel: "You got a point there. Thanks to your hard work, many are part of God's family. We can wait a little longer."
Dad: "Do you hear the prayers for 'complete healing'?"
Angel: "Yes, I hear the requests. Let's ask our Father what He thinks about it, because I was sent to bring you home. Now, I don't know."
Dad: "OK. Father, if it be Your will, please allow for my complete healing."
Angel: "He said, 'The only way complete healing can happen is when you come live with Me in heaven."
Dad: "Then it is Your will and not mine, Father. I remember when You called my children's mother home a long time ago. It was a lot like this."
Angel: "Seems like just yesterday I escorted that lovely servant home. She was a diligent worker, too."
Dad: "Thanks for taking care of her. Now, I must prepare for my trip home. Any suggestions?"
Angel: "Well, the Father has seen fit to give you a few more days to prepare and give your heritage time to say goodbye."
Dad: "Thank you, Father, for You alone are worthy of honor and praise. The only request I have is to open my eyes one more time before I leave. I can hear my family singing me home. They were such a blessing to have and to hold for the time we were together on earth."
Angel: "When you see your Savior and Lord welcoming you home, nothing will keep you from opening your eyes!"
Dad: "OK, but it seems so soon. I can see the doors of heaven opening."
Angel: "You're right. It's not much longer now. Look! Do you see Him?"
Dad: "No, my eyes are still closed. Let me try - WOA!! I can see Him!!"
Angel: "Your Savior has something to say to you."
Dad: "He said, 'Welcome home, good and faithful servant."
I imagine my father's ticket home was sealed by the blood of Christ Jesus and exchanged for a boarding pass when he suffered the massive stroke.
Rest in peace, dear Dad, on this Father's Day. Your journey is complete.
Love,
Your Caboose
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Waiting
Dear Dad,
It's been nearly three months since you left and the waiting to see you again is agonizing. Knowing I could live many more years without your presence is at once sobering and troubling. No one prepared me for the significant void left gaping open when you departed, for no one but you can fill it. Sure, God's grace is sufficient to deal with the pain associated with your departure, yet I find myself groping in the darkness of grief for some reassurance that it truly will be but a wisp of breath before we are reunited. To say I miss you is an understatement of severe magnitude.
Still, I know that I must wait, I must wait, I must wait. It is in the waiting that I confront how treasured you are, who you are, and where you are. I have to admit some level of jealousy knowing you are home in heaven where we all yearn to be, yet we remain on this side... waiting. I feel awkward enough writing you this letter, but it is way overdue. I have walked and slogged through grief unknown and need to let you know how very treasured you are in my life. Your love for me endures even the grave for it is a love only God can supply. Thank you, Dad, for teaching me to wait upon the Lord, for living this life in such a way to demonstrate such a waiting, and for loving me through the deepest pits of hell on earth.
Because of you, I can wait, I can wait for the day when I see you again, with your healing complete, and to feel your warm embrace, to hear your laughter uninhibited by the woes and sorrows of this world.
And so, I wait.
Thanks, Dad.
Love,
Your Caboose
It's been nearly three months since you left and the waiting to see you again is agonizing. Knowing I could live many more years without your presence is at once sobering and troubling. No one prepared me for the significant void left gaping open when you departed, for no one but you can fill it. Sure, God's grace is sufficient to deal with the pain associated with your departure, yet I find myself groping in the darkness of grief for some reassurance that it truly will be but a wisp of breath before we are reunited. To say I miss you is an understatement of severe magnitude.
Still, I know that I must wait, I must wait, I must wait. It is in the waiting that I confront how treasured you are, who you are, and where you are. I have to admit some level of jealousy knowing you are home in heaven where we all yearn to be, yet we remain on this side... waiting. I feel awkward enough writing you this letter, but it is way overdue. I have walked and slogged through grief unknown and need to let you know how very treasured you are in my life. Your love for me endures even the grave for it is a love only God can supply. Thank you, Dad, for teaching me to wait upon the Lord, for living this life in such a way to demonstrate such a waiting, and for loving me through the deepest pits of hell on earth.
Because of you, I can wait, I can wait for the day when I see you again, with your healing complete, and to feel your warm embrace, to hear your laughter uninhibited by the woes and sorrows of this world.
And so, I wait.
Thanks, Dad.
Love,
Your Caboose
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Huh?
This word best describes the overwhelming sensation of spending the last week with my father before he passed into glory and rest with his heavenly Father. A most unexpected departure, yet just what I needed at this time in life:
Sometimes, the unexpected brings about the wind necessary to fill the sails in order to leave the doldrums. While sailors prayed for winds, a stormy gale may be their way out of the zone, or, a light breeze with enough duration to ease their ship into gustier winds. Either way, their ship is on its way out of the doldrums, set upon its course, and heading towards its port.
While I’ve prayed for God to provide the wind necessary to leave the doldrums, and remain on course to finish seminary, I never imagined His plan to do so. On February 27, 2010, my father, Anthony Ben, went home to be with his Lord. His passing has filled every sail to capacity!
Rather than focus on the loss of my father’s presence, I’d like to share about his home-going. Surrounded by his family, we sang hymns, prayed, laughed, cried, and shared the last moments of his life together. After suffering a massive stroke, my father did not regain consciousness, though he lived for one more week as God honored our prayers, and those of many others around the globe, for more time. During that time, we witnessed a peaceful and dignified send off for a man who lived and breathed Jesus Christ to a lost and dying world. He lived the life God had called him to, serving as a pastor for over 50 years until he went home. His patience and love allowed all of his children to accept Christ, a legacy of eternal life. Thanks to my father on earth, I know my Father in Heaven.
Sometimes, the unexpected brings about the wind necessary to fill the sails in order to leave the doldrums. While sailors prayed for winds, a stormy gale may be their way out of the zone, or, a light breeze with enough duration to ease their ship into gustier winds. Either way, their ship is on its way out of the doldrums, set upon its course, and heading towards its port.
While I’ve prayed for God to provide the wind necessary to leave the doldrums, and remain on course to finish seminary, I never imagined His plan to do so. On February 27, 2010, my father, Anthony Ben, went home to be with his Lord. His passing has filled every sail to capacity!
Rather than focus on the loss of my father’s presence, I’d like to share about his home-going. Surrounded by his family, we sang hymns, prayed, laughed, cried, and shared the last moments of his life together. After suffering a massive stroke, my father did not regain consciousness, though he lived for one more week as God honored our prayers, and those of many others around the globe, for more time. During that time, we witnessed a peaceful and dignified send off for a man who lived and breathed Jesus Christ to a lost and dying world. He lived the life God had called him to, serving as a pastor for over 50 years until he went home. His patience and love allowed all of his children to accept Christ, a legacy of eternal life. Thanks to my father on earth, I know my Father in Heaven.
The Doldrums: Into Peaceful Waters?
The intertropical convergence zone, known as the doldrums, circles the earth near the equator. Crews of sailing ships dreaded these waters because their sails would go slack from the calm air there. Ironically, this zone is also where hurricanes originate due to converging winds and rising air.
I imagine the captains of ships entering this zone had planned ahead for the passage through this zone, thinking of the possibility of calm weather or stormy seas. While their crews looked ahead with uncertainty, the captains implemented contingency plans based on experience.
There are times in our voyage with Christ when we experience the doldrums, times when the winds in our sails cease and we drift. Some may perceive this as a time to sink into despair, while others may perceive this as an opportunity to take stock of present seaworthiness. The latter provides a time of inspection to determine what repairs are to be made, while the former saps needed energy for the journey ahead. Both must trust in their captain to follow the plan no matter the weather while in the doldrums. The ship will eventually pass from the zone and continue the voyage.
With Christ as our Captain, we trust Him to see us through the uncertain zones of life. His plan is the best plan, no matter the weather or point along the voyage. He has a contingency plan for all that life demands and will see us through the calm times and the stormy seas.
I imagine the captains of ships entering this zone had planned ahead for the passage through this zone, thinking of the possibility of calm weather or stormy seas. While their crews looked ahead with uncertainty, the captains implemented contingency plans based on experience.
There are times in our voyage with Christ when we experience the doldrums, times when the winds in our sails cease and we drift. Some may perceive this as a time to sink into despair, while others may perceive this as an opportunity to take stock of present seaworthiness. The latter provides a time of inspection to determine what repairs are to be made, while the former saps needed energy for the journey ahead. Both must trust in their captain to follow the plan no matter the weather while in the doldrums. The ship will eventually pass from the zone and continue the voyage.
With Christ as our Captain, we trust Him to see us through the uncertain zones of life. His plan is the best plan, no matter the weather or point along the voyage. He has a contingency plan for all that life demands and will see us through the calm times and the stormy seas.
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