Monday, February 01, 2010
Fly To Jesus
The service sending Zoe home was everything I'd hoped. So many people showing love and care and wonderful music.
During "Shout To The Lord," Jen stood up and asked those around her to, and then everyone did. She told me later she did it because she was so proud of Zoe. So proud of her.
It was a joyful, tearful triumph in the resurrection. We have this hope because we believe everything God's promised us is true.
After the service, I had to kinda walk it off like I had just run a marathon. I was walking around and spending time with each table, and my family learned that my father - too frail to make the memorial - had taken a bad turn. The family headed up. At 8:45 CST, we learned that my Dad had gone home.
There's not much in my life that wasn't influenced by my Dad. I'd be a better person if I could be more like him. He taught me how to tie a tie, to stir batter, to open a book, to pick out fruit, to sign my name.
In each one of these lessons, it wasn't simply a "how-to": it was a thorough step-by-step and reasoning. For my signature, Dad called me into his office and said he'd been looking at my signature on my confirmation papers. It was sloppy. And he was thinking of some options that might be neater and more unique. He showed me some different ways he had thought of signing my name. He was right. I've signed my way that way ever since.
To pick out fruit: You look under fruit, inspecting each one. Often the ones on the top are concealing a flaw. Find the biggest, most beautiful one. "That's for mom," he'd say. Putting her first was the point.
An elite athlete, a world-class artist (his art as a TEEN won national competition), a thoughtful teacher. All were amazing facets of his character. But all paled to his love and devotion to serving the Lord. It was the way he befriended, then witnessed to the breadstore lady. The manager at Cub Foods. The mechanic who the congregation had left behind because of his sin, that's the one Dad went to. It was the way he patiently guided sheep.
It was the way he drew his cartoon-simple images for confirmation. The means of Grace were a funnel. Jesus, in one parable, was an island. God was always depicted by a huge heart.
And now he's home, returned the the heart, the source of all love, reunited with his facilities and all beyond that Heaven crowns, and a laughing, hyper, always-praising girl named Zoe who can't stop talking for all the time the world held her silent.
I'm jealous. I can't wait to see you both.