November 5, 2017

I have been avoiding this post for a long time, but, sadly, time does not change the truth.

My dad died on November 5, 2017.  This is a reality that will take a long time to sink in.  When we lost him in a devastating home fire and explosion, my mom also lost many of her possessions and her home.  Our world has been flipped upside down and given a good shaking, with any semblance of normalcy impossible to find.

6/24/46 – 11/5/17

But there are a few things that we know are true.

We are loved.

Within minutes, neighbors by the dozen raced to us, abandoning Sunday afternoon plans without a moment’s hesitation.  Water, chairs, blankets, and tissues materialized.  Arms cradled the wriggling puppies, bodies blocked news cameras with a fierce protectiveness, and tears were shed by all.

Within hours, my mom and her puppies had safe and comfortable housing; out of state family was packing bags and heading our way; fresh and nourishing food had been spread before us; friends arrived to hug and pray over us.  

Within days, a beautiful memorial service had been arranged.  Many hands arranged flowers, decorated tables, and prepared copious amounts of food.  My refrigerator and freezer filled up – we would leave home and return to find that food had arrived even in our absence.  Friends folded my laundry, ironed our clothes, ran errands, babysat my children, and even took Miles to the doctor (double ear infection).  A car was offered to my mom for however long she might need it. 

It has barely been five weeks and offers of help continue to pour in.  These are not the “Let me know if I can help!” kind that get tacked on at the end of a condolence.  These are pleadings to bless us in tangible ways, big (“Can I help you rebuild your home?”) and small (“Can I bring you your favorite drink?”).  We are all still receiving daily texts assuring us that we continue to be remembered and prayed over.

“I would have despaired unless I had believed
that I would see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.”  Psalm 27:13
 

All our days are numbered.  

In America in 2017, we spend a great deal of time mitigating risk.  Some of us avoid flying, fear illness, exercise obsessively, eat cleanly, inhale vitamins, and stock up on guns.  These precautions give us a false sense of control over our mortality.  My dad was an experienced electrical engineer who had fire extinguishers within arm’s reach at all times (seriously!).  Yet he was killed by an electrical short behind the dash of a car he’d owned for 13 years, and the fire spread so quickly that no advance planning on his part could save him. 

We all have a tendency to hoard our energy, time, money, and possessions for some future “better purpose” or for own personal enjoyment.  Then a tragedy such as this makes everybody reflect upon the fragility of life.  We might find ourselves brimming over with goodwill for a time, only to slide back into our selfish ways until the next wake-up call.         

“Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in your book were written all
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.” 
Psalm 139:16

“The dust will return to the earth as it was,
and the spirit will return to God who gave it.”
Ecclesiastes 12:7

Perspective matters.

The interesting aspect of my dad’s death is that the fire took not only his life, but everything that belonged to him.  His cars, projects, clothes, records, memorabilia….gone!  We have his wedding ring, wallet, cell phone, coin purse, Clemson cap, and Kindle.  That’s it.  We certainly are not shrugging our shoulders about the home restoration my mom has to face, but our conversations about my dad have not focused on the loss of his material possessions.  His legacy has nothing to do with stuff or hobbies or his career. 

“We are happy to celebrate an earthly life of accomplishment while never asking the obvious question, ‘Where does this person go now?’”  (Greg Laurie)

His greatest gift to his family was faith.  He introduced us to our Creator, freed us from the pressure of self-reliance, pointed us to Jesus’ plan of salvation, and celebrated with us as God transformed our hearts and minds.  My dad offered us Biblical hope – a life-changing certainty in the future.  Death apart from this hope in God would be a far greater tragedy. 

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again
to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,
to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled a
and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you.”
I Peter 1:3-4

Oh, how we wanted him here for many more days!  His absence leaves a hole in our lives that will never go away.  We are just at the beginning of what will be a long road, but thanks be to God that we already know the ending.