The past few weeks have been one of those weeks that you wonder about later--how did I get through it without totally losing it? I don't have to wonder long to realize that it is the grace of God that carried me. What a miracle! How amazing! Thank you sweet Holy Spirit for lifting me up and carrying me.
The last few months have been a journey that given the choice I would not have made. The journey actually began in 2004 when my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer Disease. The news was daunting. Our first thought was that Dad would never want this to happen, never be a burden to anyone--he was a giver-not a taker. Dad was our family stability, our strength, our patriarch--what would we do?. It was hard to imagine that he would slowly lose his ability to remember, that he would eventually live in a world where he might not recognize his family. It broke our heart to think about what our parents would face. But, as we always do as a family, we unified and pooled our strength, we sought God's help in a helpless situation,and we prepared to go on this journey together with as much grace as God would give us.
My mother's life changed. She became the caretaker. She had always handled their finances but soon she could no longer share those decisions with our father. She struggled to change the way she did things. What a shock for her to realize that she could not always tell my dad the things she shared before, that in fact she had to stretch the truth to protect him. How difficult it was for her, a woman who never thought to lie to anyone in her life must now withhold information or out and out lie to dad to protect him.
Life became more difficult as dad became more confused. He became some what paranoid, thinking someone was in the house when no one was there. He worried that people wanted his beloved, broken down pick up or wanted to buy his cabin when he didn't want to sell it. He forgot that he had just eaten all through the day--he gained so much weight that as he began to stumble and fall our mother couldn't help him get up without help. His mind seemed to jump around in time--one moment thinking he was young and in the army or even 13 again.
We knew it was time. Time for our mother's health and ultimately for dad to change their living arrangement. God brought us a wonderful group home just blocks from their home. A place where dad was cared for and mom could be with him without the burden of his daily care. We praised God that they had the finances to do this--God showed himself faithful to these faithful people.
I could go on about the sad part of his illness, but instead let me tell you more about this man. He was a solid man, loyal, faithful, trustworthy, salt of the earth, happy, laughing, rough around the edges, encouraging, bow legged and as my children said over and over again in their video taped memorial talks--amazing! Was he perfect? no. Was he "spiritual"? no. But was he godly? Yes. He rarely spoke about God--but he lived as a Christian should live. He lived a giving life. He didn't attend church regularly until he was 70 years old, when after attending a church service with us, he said to his brother-in-law "I don't know about you, but I think I need to be going to church". He started going to church with my mother every Sunday and to their senior life group every Thursday and did that until he was not able to go anymore.
When we visited dad in the group home it was quite "a trip". He would tell stories on a "loop" sometimes going around and around with the things he said. But between every sentence or "loop" he would laugh. In many of his stories of the past he would say "and then I just laughed" followed by laughter. One day he said to us in response to "how are you dad?" "Well, we just go back from Africa". Such a shock since not only had he never been there but had never mentioned wanting to go there. We just went with it, asking him if he had a good time etc. Sometimes, I have to be honest, it could be pretty entertaining. Of course we loved it the most when he told his favorite life stories--even if we'd heard it a million times.
Then, the end became evident. Our mother mentioned that as she visited he was sleepy more often than not. God had begun to call him home.
That's when the last month began for us. As we traveled to California to be with 2 of our kids for Thanksgiving, we hadn't gotten outside of Phoenix more than 100 miles when we got a text telling us that John's brother Al had not shown up for his dialysis appointment the day before and he wasn't answering his phone. We quickly called a mutual friend to go to his apartment to check on him. Our friend called back within a few minutes to sadly tell us that he'd found Al "gone" lying in his living room. Deep sorrow hit us as we turned the car around to go back to face the next few days as we laid Al to rest. But we began to marvel at the fact that John had been able to spend time with his brother the Saturday before. That John was able to share his love of God with Al again for the umpteenth time, but this time got Al's agreement that Jesus was the way to salvation. Al did what he rarely did--he put his arms around his brother and told him that he loved him, neither realizing it would be the last time on earth that they would see each other. Faithful Lord, to have reached out in the eleventh hour to a man who had essentially ignored him all these many years. God's mercy immense in his life. John preached at his memorial and we rejoiced in Al's home going.
The night of Al's memorial Dad began his final journey home. We realized the next day that he had slipped into sleep, into a coma. It seemed that we were starting the long vigil of ushering him into a new life with God. But in God's mercy it was only a couple of days. My sister and I took turns staying with him for the next 36 hours.
I want to share with you the amazing experience. Yes, it was difficult. It was hard to see his labored breathing. It helped when the wonderful hospice nurses told us that he wasn't in any pain and told us that it was "hard work" to die sometimes. As they gently cared for him they encouraged him by saying "Sam, you're doing a good job". It became apparent that dieing was much like giving birth--laboring towards letting the spirit leave the body. The nurse described the process to us and we marveled at how God had created the human body to shut down gradually.
So we waited for our dad to step out of his body and into the presence of God. The night before he left, I was alone with him for some time. I was blessed to find a Michael W. Smith CD that I put in the CD player. I sang worship "with my dad". "Amazing Grace how sweet the sound....my chains are gone, I've been set free." I talked to my dad about the exciting experience that was coming, that he was indeed blessed to soon be in the presence of God. A sweet experience I will not forget.
The next day as my sweet son Chuck (how appropriate that the grandson named after him would be there) sat with his grandmother and me, we saw Dad open his eyes and he seemed to be able to hear us. We spoke words of love and encouragement to him. Mom told him that she would be okay, that they would both be okay. Chuck talked to his grandpa--telling him that he loved him. And we waited together.
The nurse asked to care for dad for a few minutes and we left the room. Feeling somehow secure that the nurse with him, my mother ran up to the bank. As the nurse came out of the room she smiled and motioned and I knew that Dad was about to slip into eternity. The nurse told us that as she was ministering to him he gripped her hand, opened his eyes wide and smiled a huge smile. As we walked in we saw him smiling and then we saw him release his spirit with that smile on his face and we saw his face as he slipped away. Glory Hallelujah! The nurse standing at the end of the bed said "now he's born again". Odd to say that--but true--he had a new spiritual body as he entered into God's presence. After he was gone, my friend Gail and I along with my mother, turned on that CD from the night before and worshiped together at his bedside. My mother was sad that she wasn't there as he passed--but we all knew that God understood that perhaps it would have been too difficult. Our God is so faithful.
At his memorial service, his pastor said that God showed him a picture of Jesus gathering the angels and giving dad a standing ovation as he entered those gates. Our niece Amy, who played the worship music for the memorial, told us that a song went through her head as she played and sang. It said, "if you could only see me now, you wouldn't be sad". Our God is so great to give us those images to remember.
At the end of the day, all I could say is that my dad lived a good life and he must be living an amazing life now. God honored my sister's prayer that Dad pass before he got to the point that he didn't recognize us. She didn't want our dad to be scared in not knowing those around him. And even the week before he recognized us. Thank you Lord, for your grace and mercy. We miss him but not for long, this life is fleeting and soon we will also step into eternity into the arms of our loving Father, and our loving dad.
Imagine you and the Lord Jesus are walking down the road together. For much of the way, the Lord's footprints go along steadily, consistently, rarely varying the pace. But your footprints are a disorganized stream of zigzags, starts, stops, turnarounds, circles, departures, and returns.For much of the way, it seems to go like this, but gradually your footprints come more in line with the Lord's, soon paralleling His consistently. 
