Did he have an inkling that it would be his last night in
which eternity was but a dream & a promise out there in the future? The last night in which this world would be
all he knew of reality? The last night
before meeting his Savior face to face and hearing those magnificent words “Well
done, good & faithful servant!”?
I wonder if
he pondered the greatness of God, before Whom he would stand the next
night. Probably
so; a favorite hymn of his was “In the Garden”—“And He walks with me, and He
talks with me, and He tells me I am His own…”
Did he
think about his sons’ future lives?
Somehow, I think he did, for he thought of that often. I wonder if God’s grace gave him a glimpse of
daughters-in-law…and of 5 grandchildren…whose life journeys would forever be
inexorably linked to his, despite their having never met him.
Did he
think about his beloved wife’s future?
I ‘spect he did here too, for he was a man who loved her much and who
did all he could to provide for and shape that future.
Did he
think about finishing the race & keeping the faith? Overwhelming evidence from the previous 47
years (his lifespan) suggests that he did.
Did he
think about the gigantic hole his passing would leave in the lives of so many? I’m sure he had thought of that now &
then, as ours is a family that knows how to live life well and how to deal with
its end. Regrettably, we have a good bit
of experience with that “ending” part.
He had that experience too.
However, no 47-year-old spends too much time thinking of his own life’s
end.
Did he
think of Christmas & the Incarnation & family & how all of those
seem intertwined? I think so,
for on this night 40 years ago, he & his family decorated the tree and
fired up the music of the season. He
absolutely deplored the ever-lengthening “Christmas season” as cheapening the
meaning of itself. Thus, the tree went
up about two weeks before Christmas, & never earlier.
Whatever his
thoughts were on Dec. 13, 1974, mine
on the forty Dec. 13’s since have always focused on him. And on the overwhelming influence the short 15
½ years we shared on earth continue to have on pretty much the totality of my
own life and faith and family. Influence
like a good Daddy should have on his son.
And thus, I both love and hate staring at the Christmas tree
here late in the evening on Dec. 13. Doing
so brings memories to the fore, both good and painful. Questions that I won’t get answered until until
that Great Day, when my feeble-minded questions will fade into insignificance
beside an eternally long, “Thank You, Lord!”
December 13, 1974, I ‘spect Dad might have stared at the freshly-decorated
Christmas tree and chased his own memories a bit.
Think I’ll go stare at ours and chase mine.
