Steve's Journey

We got the call at 5:30 AM. Lois's father had died at around midnight. Following a bout with Alzheimer's disease that lasted ten years, he finally shook off his earthly garment. Lois is now one parent away from being an orphan like me. One person gets on the eternity bus, and the rest of us take one step forward in the line. That's life.

The day has been busy with phone calls and travel plans. Death has a way of altering all of our plans in a specific time window. And you're thinking all the while. You have mixed feelings about his passing. Lois said that he was now free from his earthly prison. And yet there is a finality to it. He would never have recovered. Nobody does from that disease.

As we grow older we begin to gradually discover that we can't do the same things that we could when we were young. Then, as we decline, we realize that we can't do them at all. But old people have two things going for them. They have plenty of fond memories. As children our minds would reel with anticipation that would only last until the moment was over. At this time of life, however, we have endless re-runs to enjoy. Sure, there were bad days. But when you become content in your current skin, the bad day re-runs don't seem to play as often.

The other thing we have going for us is a growing desire to see and be a part of the hereafter. We have become acutely aware that these few years on earth could not have been for nothing. We don't just believe in God; we can feel Him. We have amazingly energetic spirits in these now-defective bodies. And those spirits must have someplace to go.

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Lord of Life, be with our loved one who has just joined You. Help him to embrace the truths that he may have been confused about in this life. Be with his spouse in her grief. Give her courage for her new journey. And show us how we can continue to convey love to the family. Keep us safe as we travel to the funeral. We will indeed be transporting precious cargo.

Amen