Re-Roughing It
Last Friday I wrote a post ("Rough Day") about my Dad, and a biography of him my mother wrote. Over the weekend blogger.com (the host) had some problems, and that post seems to have disappeared. My missus still had it in her e-mail, and because it was important to me I'm going to post it again. If you read it before, and don't want to read it again, you can stop now!
Be blessed
>>"ROUGH DAY"<<
Today was not what you'd call fun. First of all, I was up late last night waiting for the new nano to load the 459 songs - that took awhile through my usb1 port. Then I had to get up this morning and finish all the things that needed to be done for a big event tomorrow (pray for me in the morning - meeting with a bunch of guys for an extended prayer meeting to work on getting humble and right with God and each other).
But the problem started with my mom. She's helping my niece (a sophomore at Baylor) on a family history project, writing essays about Ashley's grandparents (my dad and mom) and dad (my older brother). So yesterday she sent Ashley, and the rest of us, a very sweet, informative bio of my dad, who died about 15 years ago of pancreatic cancer.
It was tough to take. I read through it and then put it aside, and then read it again today. It was like rolling back time, getting to know dad again, getting to see him as a young guy just starting out, fill of enthusiasm and sparkle, falling in love with his wife and then his kids and then his grandkids. She took us through his career years. Then she told us about his sickness, how he faced it, and how, finally, it took his life. Or, should I say, released him from his failing body and let him go to that better place?
Anyway, the first part was great, but the last bit - whoooooooo. Hard stuff. I wasn't there when he died (my younger brother was), but Mom did a good job of painting a picture of his last few weeks - pain,toughness, weakness (my dad weak?), and finally slipping away, while my brother sat beside him in the hospital, waiting for the doctor.
Suddenly it poured back to me, like the day it happened, when I was told and my legs were kicked out from under me and I had to hold onto the bathroom sink to keep from falling, then deciding why not? and succumbing to the collapse. Someone once said "When a parent dies your world will never be perfect again. It may be very good, but you'll always have to say, 'if only my dad could have seen this....'" So, my time was 15 years ago.
And today it poured back in great big sobs, loneliness and ache and - in a different, more mature way - compassion. I wish I had been there, I wish I had held his hand in his time of need, while he was fighting, passing, wish I had been there to give him a hug as he went on his way. But in fact I wasn't, and couldn't have been.
I grabbed a piano and tried to craft my emotions, my pain, my loss, his need, into a song. Yeah, I wrote it. Yeah, I liked it. But I probably won't be able to sing it for a long time, since it broke me down when I tried to sing it. Every time. Even though it ends with a positive strain, a word of hope and strength and release into the eternal mystery of our God.
That's the great perplexity of being a Christian. We long for heaven, but are truly of the earth, too. We know the Great Joy, but experience the sadness everyone else does. And life doesn't end, but we regret losing this part of it, because some of it is so amazingly beautiful. I mean, grandkids? autumn afternoons? walking in the forest? a soft kiss? God was ON when He thought up those things!
Someday we'll all leave them behind, one way or another. Some of us will spring into the enfolding presence of our Savior. In the meantime, we deal with earth's sorrows and ask God to help us put everything into perspective.
We are dust, we are grass,
we are made from the earth;
to the earth we'll return one day.
But we'll rise when He calls
and we'll live in heaven's halls
Gloryland is our home someday.
Gloryland, Gloryland
We are bound for Gloryland
Gloryland, Gloryland
Movin' on to Gloryland
Be blessed
>>"ROUGH DAY"<<
Today was not what you'd call fun. First of all, I was up late last night waiting for the new nano to load the 459 songs - that took awhile through my usb1 port. Then I had to get up this morning and finish all the things that needed to be done for a big event tomorrow (pray for me in the morning - meeting with a bunch of guys for an extended prayer meeting to work on getting humble and right with God and each other).
But the problem started with my mom. She's helping my niece (a sophomore at Baylor) on a family history project, writing essays about Ashley's grandparents (my dad and mom) and dad (my older brother). So yesterday she sent Ashley, and the rest of us, a very sweet, informative bio of my dad, who died about 15 years ago of pancreatic cancer.
It was tough to take. I read through it and then put it aside, and then read it again today. It was like rolling back time, getting to know dad again, getting to see him as a young guy just starting out, fill of enthusiasm and sparkle, falling in love with his wife and then his kids and then his grandkids. She took us through his career years. Then she told us about his sickness, how he faced it, and how, finally, it took his life. Or, should I say, released him from his failing body and let him go to that better place?
Anyway, the first part was great, but the last bit - whoooooooo. Hard stuff. I wasn't there when he died (my younger brother was), but Mom did a good job of painting a picture of his last few weeks - pain,toughness, weakness (my dad weak?), and finally slipping away, while my brother sat beside him in the hospital, waiting for the doctor.
Suddenly it poured back to me, like the day it happened, when I was told and my legs were kicked out from under me and I had to hold onto the bathroom sink to keep from falling, then deciding why not? and succumbing to the collapse. Someone once said "When a parent dies your world will never be perfect again. It may be very good, but you'll always have to say, 'if only my dad could have seen this....'" So, my time was 15 years ago.
And today it poured back in great big sobs, loneliness and ache and - in a different, more mature way - compassion. I wish I had been there, I wish I had held his hand in his time of need, while he was fighting, passing, wish I had been there to give him a hug as he went on his way. But in fact I wasn't, and couldn't have been.
I grabbed a piano and tried to craft my emotions, my pain, my loss, his need, into a song. Yeah, I wrote it. Yeah, I liked it. But I probably won't be able to sing it for a long time, since it broke me down when I tried to sing it. Every time. Even though it ends with a positive strain, a word of hope and strength and release into the eternal mystery of our God.
That's the great perplexity of being a Christian. We long for heaven, but are truly of the earth, too. We know the Great Joy, but experience the sadness everyone else does. And life doesn't end, but we regret losing this part of it, because some of it is so amazingly beautiful. I mean, grandkids? autumn afternoons? walking in the forest? a soft kiss? God was ON when He thought up those things!
Someday we'll all leave them behind, one way or another. Some of us will spring into the enfolding presence of our Savior. In the meantime, we deal with earth's sorrows and ask God to help us put everything into perspective.
We are dust, we are grass,
we are made from the earth;
to the earth we'll return one day.
But we'll rise when He calls
and we'll live in heaven's halls
Gloryland is our home someday.
Gloryland, Gloryland
We are bound for Gloryland
Gloryland, Gloryland
Movin' on to Gloryland
posted by David Hardesty | 2:31 PM
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