Thank You All

Thank you to all of you who prayed for me.  Here is what I got to share about my dad at his funeral.

          

When I was young, I did not get to know my dad very well.  For various reasons, I only knew my dad through phone calls and cards…well maybe more phone calls than cards.  It seems that I have inherited his ability to purchase cards, write in them, sometimes address them, and then not mail them.  I think I have a Father’s Day card from 1999. 

 

I did not get to know my dad until I was an adult.  While working at a Young Life camp in Canada, God spoke to me clearly: you need to live with your dad.  Not only did I live with my dad, I worked with him for six months. I got to know him as an adult.  While I missed the mythology of my father—you know, my dad can beat up your dad, my dad walked on the moon, my dad smells good without showering, my dad is a super hero—I got something even more special: my dad became my friend as an adult.  We would stay up late into the night talking about cars, Boyle’s Law, God, and what would happen if you pulled all the boats in the ocean out of the water at the same time.  By the end of my stay I recaptured a little mythology about my dad; I learned he did not need to wear super hero underpants, he could rebuild an engine better than your dad, and he has one peculiarity.

 

He loved coffee, especially in the morning.  After consuming 27 pots of coffee we would hop in the car to go to work.  On several occasions we had to make an unplanned pit stop.  Usually this consisted of him squirming in the car, exiting quickly from the freeway, and stopping at McDonalds for a consult in the hall of tiles, but one day was very memorable.  He arrived at work and he was really feeling his coffee.  He looked at me, looked at the door to get to the elevator, and then looked at the door of the garbage transfer room…after returning from the garbage transfer room, he felt much better.

 

While I lived with my dad over five years ago, I happened across John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row.  Over the past three weeks this book has been on my mind for several reasons.  First, Steinbeck has an affinity for the West Coast—which is my adopted homeland, and second, it has reminded me of my father.  Let me tell you a little about my father before I tell you why.  My dad had cancer for 17 years; if you ever met him, you would never know.  His routine would consist of getting up early, going for a walk/run, taking care of the three Ses, drinking an insane amount of coffee, making an unplanned pitstop because of the aforementioned coffee, working all day, coming home, changing clothes, working in the yard, coming in when dark, working in the house or garage, and going to bed.  Now there would be some variation to this schedule–except the coffee and pit stop–but my dad always managed to put more work in a 24 hour day than anybody that I have met.  Never would you here my dad complain, more than likely you would find him trying to encourage somebody.  Along the way he had an impact* on hundreds of peoples’ lives; those people poured into his home as he prepared for his last days on Earth.  Had I the foresight or equipment, I would have stood at the door with a clicker to get a formal count, but by my rudimentary math skills I would say well over one hundred people have visited him or called him to say how important he is to them. 

 

Seeing all of these people come to see my father made me see something in him that I had not recognized before.  In the beginning of Cannery Row, Steinbeck describes Cannery Row in Monterey.  After carrying on about the geography he starts talking about the people of Cannery Row.  That is where these lines come from:

 

Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, ‘Whores, pimps, gamblers, and sons of bitches’, by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peephole he might have said, ‘Saints and angels and martyrs and holy men’, and he would have meant the same thing. 

 

My dad has spent his entire life trying to look through that peephole to see saints and angels and martyrs and holy men; this does not mean he has always been successful, but his effort is the reward and it is not a Sisyphean effort.    

Before I moved to Virginia to live with my dad, I hiked the
Grand Canyon rim to rim with my friend Devon.  As I left Virginia my dad told me that if I had friends going to Virginia, to give them his number.  People exchange these types of pleasantries all the time, even family; the difference with my dad is he really meant it. 
Devon, who was in the Coast Guard, had several weeks of training in Virginia, so I gave him my dad’s number.  I called Devon several days ago to talk to him about my dad.  He told me that my dad took him in as if he was a son; Devon said he felt like he was a connection to me for my dad.  During one of their visits, they went to the Air and Space
Museum.  It was here that Devon realized what he wanted to do with his life… fly planes.  After the visit, my dad talked with Devon about what he wanted to do.  When my dad found out that Devon wanted to fly planes, he relentlessly pursued Devon and his dream. 

Devon graduated from his class and received several honors; my dad was there to see him honored.  Devon said that my dad played a huge part in helping him understand who he was and what he wanted to be.  My dad saw Devon’s potential and would not let him settle for anything less.  Devon will graduate from the University of Washington next week and in four months he will be in Quantico for officer candidate school, his first step to becoming a pilot.  This is just one of hundreds of stories where my dad looked through the other peephole and saw the good in someone.           

In this way, my dad has lived his life; a life where he has poured out blessings onto other people just as his Savior has poured out blessings in his life.  If God could extend his grace even to my Dad, despite his shortcomings, how could my dad not extend his grace to all the people he met?             

Let me end with hope from II Corinthians chapter 5: 

1Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. 2Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, 3because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. 4For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. 5Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.  6Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7We live by faith, not by sight. 

Thank God for his grace that he extends to us through his son Jesus Christ.  I have hope because my dad is in his eternal house, not because I can see but because of faith.  II Corinthians continues in verse 17: 

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! 

 I love you Dad; you are a man of God that no one will forget.  Also, please let me know if your coffee and pit stop routine continues…God does have a sense of humor.

Coming Home

Tomorrow is my dad’s funeral.  The terminology for death can be baffling; is it a wake, viewing, memorial, funeral or do you go to the funeral home, funeral parlor, or church?  It has been a sense-deadening whirlwind.  Between eating, reminiscing with family and friends, and getting ready for services; it hits me: my dad is gone.  Knowing this day was coming could not prepare me for the feeling of great loss.  Please pray for me as I prepare to share about my dad at the funeral tomorrow (today if you are on the East Coast.)

The Old has Gone, the New has Come

II Corinthians 5:17:

17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!

At 6:10 am Eastern Standard Time my dad left his tent on this earth; thank you to all of you who have been praying for me and my family.  Please continue to pray as we prepare for the memorial services.

I will leave you with hope from the beginning of chapter 5 in II Corinthians:

 1Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. 2Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, 3because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. 4For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. 5Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

 6Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7We live by faith, not by sight. 8We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. 10For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.