Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Living to the Full

Today feels like a good day. I think the sun has a lot to do with it, the temperature, a balmy 68 degrees with a touch of breeze. Nine to five Harley riders everywhere are watching the clock for punch out time thinking about a few hours of wind and freedom after work. I have seen and heard a few bikes thunder by already.

Gordo took me on the first ride of the year this weekend. Ahhhhhhh. I feel happy, like someone else, living a different life when I'm riding. I know he is happiest then too, unfettered by the demands of pedestrian life.

Everyone seems a bit less freewheeling since Dad died. One aunt seemed slightly horrified that I would risk my life on a motorcycle.
"You don't go on the interstate do you?"
"Yeah, I do."
"On a bike?"
I wanted to say, It's not just any bike, Auntie, it's a Harley.

Might I remind everyone that we are all going to die someday. Of something. I'm not going to hide in a corner and wait for death to come get me. To me, fear is a slow death. The closing off of possibility until you find yourself surrounded by a box.

They say my dad died before his time. Who knows if he really died before his time? He didn't have some digital countdown clock embedded on his body to indicate that. Even if I died tomorrow who would know if I died before mine? I still believe in the sovereignty of God.

I don't wake up mornings thinking, "I could have died in a house fire, or a tornado." But it happens to people. There are no safe places where Death cannot find you or me. People have been shot in church and school, at home and in the street. They've died in their tubs, in beds and at the hands of their children or their parents. People have died in vehicle accidents (since 1899). They've died eating, drinking and laughing. They've died at work, at leisure and on vacation.
People have been killed by falling coconuts, sky debris and freak bolts of lightning out of the blue. The Good Lord protects who He protects and calls whomever He calls. If the Lord calls, you go. He doesn't leave messages.
My dad died in his safe driveway. It could have happened in traffic. On the way home from church. At church. He didn't know how he would go. And I don't dwell on that. Certainly I don't get on a bike thinking how my life will end, or afraid that it might. We are as careful and watchful as we can be. I suppose I'll ride until it's out of my system or Gordo tires of it.
Know this: I am not afraid to live and I am not afraid to die. I will live out all the days the Lord has planned for me. There's no death wish here.

It would be ideal to die in my sleep at home when that day comes, given my choice, that's what I'd pick. If the good Lord is interested, I'd like a no suffering or lingering clause.

I know where I'm going after this and until He calls, I'm living to the full.

Youngest Perspective

I recieved this post from my youngest brother. He also lives the farthest away. I'm posting it partly because I want to honor my dad and the man my brother became because of him.

I don't know where to start. I may wander all over, so just bear with me. I have never had to do this before.

I believe Dad was the last male in his family. It was up to him to carry on a family name. To leave a legacy. I think if you look around now, you will find that he did a VERY thorough job of it. Four sons, two daughters. Now, nine grandsons, and six grand-daughters. Looks like the name will definitely live on. Is this not how God himself rewarded those in his favor in biblical times? I like to think so.

My parents had six kids.... SIX!!!! Just imagine doing that today. I'm glad he didn't quit at five, or you wouldn't be reading this, and two grandsons would be missing.

My dad was the greatest at making things work. fixing things, making things and just general problem solving. He was never self serving, but serving of all others. He was a dreamer, but made you also dream. He was a provider and showed us how to provide. He was a believer that showed us how to believe. He was a father that showed us HOW to father. He was decent and honest and showed us also the benefit in this. He was my confidant and my friend, my coach, my cheerleader.
Now he will lead from afar.

He left the map. He will now clear a new path for us. We were fortunate to know him here, and we will be fortunate to know him again.

Dad, I miss you, but I know as well that you are here.
May God bless you. You have done your work here. It was time for you to go home. May you hang your hat and enjoy what "Papa God" has prepared for you. I'm sure that heaven is excited to see you!
All our love.