The First Snow

I always love the first snow fall. I am sure I am not alone. This morning I got up and looked outside and smiled in wonder as if this was the first time snow had ever fallen on Northeastern Ohio. Why is that? I made coffee, started a fire in my little anemic gas fireplace, and cracked open my Bible. From time to time I would look out on a world that was slowly being covered in a blanket of white. The first snow doesn't usually cover the roads. It covers only the trees and the ground. I guess the snow is a reminder to me that God is a God of big and small gifts. Love, forgiveness, grace, food, comfort, family, are all big gifts. We celebrated those big gifts yesterday. But God also gives little gifts. There is no reason why he had to make rain prettier in the winter than in the summer. A summer rain has its own beauty and wonder. But with the sky gray and the air cold, rain does not seem refreshing and it is hard to think of it as softening the earth and bringing a harvest. So God changed the rain to snow and when the snow falls I look out my window and smile. It is a gift from a God who cannot help but give. For years now my wife and I have limited our Christmas gifts to just one big gift per child. It started with the first letter jackets for my older children. The letter jackets were expensive and I had started to feel that so many gifts at Christmas were having an adverse effect on my kids and on me. So, from that time on we just buy one and I make up a scavenger hunt to make it interesting and to make the gift opening last longer than a few seconds. But my wife is a giver by nature. I have watched as their stockings have swollen to twice their normal size. In fact, they end up spilling over on to the floor. My one present rule is a farce and every one knows it. My wife justifies the stocking gifts by regaling me with tales of super sales. I have learned to live with it simply because my wife must give. It is in her nature. So, I get up Christmas morning and look at stockings that have bellies so full they have cast some of their contents onto the carpet and I smile. I looked outside this morning and smiled the same smile. My wife and my heavenly Father are alike in that their love demands they must give. So, at every opportunity the gifts flow. This morning it was the first snow. Who knows what it will be tomorrow but rest assured the moment you open your eyes He is giving.

The Encore

It has been 16 days since my dad came home from the hospital. He has now been home the same amount of time he was in the hospital. Tonight is the first night he is going out. He is going to a Thanksgiving celebration at church. The celebration is part of our Encore ministry. Encore is the name we call our group of people over the age of 50. Actually it should be much older than that since I now qualify for that group. Anyway, I love the name. At a concert when the music is particularly good and no one wants it to end the crowd calls for an encore. It is a little extra and a good musician will save one of the best songs for the encore. My dad is in charge of that ministry at our church. Tonight he comes out for his own encore. A little more than a month ago I thought we were planning a funeral. When I sat with him on the bathroom floor and he couldn't speak or move I thought at the very least he would never be the same. Tonight he is on the program to pray before the program begins. I have been to many concerts and seen many encores but I have never looked forward to one more than tonight.

Dad, Lazarus, and Sam Rutherford

Dad continues to get better. Yesterday marked one week since he was released from the hospital. He has gained a little more than 3 pounds back. I have found that hospitals are great to save your life but are not very good places to live if that makes any sense. Since bringing dad home I have thought a lot about Lazarus. C.S.Lewis wrote a poem about Lazarus where he points out that Lazarus was put in the unenviable position of dying twice. A little more than 3 weeks ago dad was at least three quarters of the way to heaven. We dragged him back by drilling a hole in his head. It is wonderful to have him back but I know it is only temporary. It is only temporary for any of us. The good news is dad still longs to be there. I read him Philippians 1:21-25 the other day. "For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. But if I am to live on in the flesh this will mean fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which to choose. But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better, yet to remain on in the flesh is more necessary for your sake. And convinced of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all for your progress and joy in the faith." While I read dad had his eyes closed and when he opened them they were wet with tears. Every once in a while we find the passage of scripture where we are living right at that moment.
I read Samuel Rutherford today. "When we shall come home and enter to the possession of our Brother's fair kingdom, and when our heads shall find the weight of the eternal crown of glory, and when we shall look back to pains and sufferings; then shall we see life and sorrow to be less than one step or stride from a prison to glory; and that our little inch of time - suffering is not worthy of our first night's welcome home to heaven." If I can't write like that it is still a privilege to be able to read something like that.

A Walker, A Couch, and the Psalms

It is interesting to me that God allowed a way for broken bodies and broken minds to heal. Two weeks has aged my dad considerably. He lost right around 25 pounds in the hospital. By the way, on the elevator the last day I saw a patient (he has the wrist bracelet on) and he was clinching a 3 Muskateers bar in each hand. Our eyes met and he saw me glance at the candy. He said, "They really shouldn't call what they are giving me food." That is all he needed to say. I suppose few great chefs end up in a hospital kitchen. Anyway, yesterday consisted of me going over and getting dad out of bed every 2 hours or so. We would shuffle a loop around the kitchen, sit for a while on the couch, eat a bite and then walk him back to bed. During the afternoon we sat on the couch together. I thought it would be good to try to give his mind some exercise as well. I asked a couple of simple math problems. He missed most of them and it wasn't much fun anyway. I don't think dad ever really loved math. But he has loved the Bible for over 50 years. I went over to my side of the house and got my Bible. I sat down and told him I would start with some familiar Psalms and I would read the first part of the verse and then I wanted him to finish it from memory. We went through Psalm 139, Psalm 103, Psalm 46, and then most of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). I prompted him a half a dozen times but other than that scripture poured out of him like water from a fountain. There can't be many sons who have had that experience. After each of the Psalms, he would close his eyes and say,"That's a good one." And so we spent the afternoon on the couch. Two pastors, but by the end it was hard to tell who the really healthy one was.

Dinner with Dad

Tonight I had the chance to do something I wasn't sure I would ever do again. I had dinner with my dad. Dad came home today. We got him home, gave him a shower, let him lay down in his own bed and then I got him out of a dead sleep to have dinner. He is back sleeping now so I think if he remembers at all he will forgive me. My mom fixed dinner and I went in and helped him out of bed. He shuffled into the kitchen and sat with us. We prayed and ate together and talked a little about the day. It has been 16 days since I found him on the bathroom floor. It was wonderful to sit with him and just watch him eat. One day we will be laughing and rejoicing around a banquet table with the King of Kings. But tonight we just prayed in his name and rejoiced for another evening together on this little blue ball. There is a long road of recovery ahead but tonight I am a grateful son again.

Good Old Dad

I am sorry I haven't updated in a while. It looks like dad is coming home tomorrow. It has been an interesting journey so far and the end is not yet in sight. We sit and talk as he fades in and out. He is still sleeping quite a bit. The brain is an amazing piece of equipment even when it is scrambled a little. My dad can still quote the prologue to the Canterbury Tales in old English but can't tell me how many pills he would take in a day if he took one every 8 hours. I walked the floor loop with him today as he pushed a walker. He listed right like a car with bad alignment but showed perfect comedic timing when he passed a group of people in a lounge and said, "I suppose you all are wondering why I called this meeting." As he drifted off to sleep the other night he said simply,"It is really good to be a Christian." My dad has always been solid. I think one of the reasons my brother and I are both in ministry is because my dad was always the same man at home as he was behind the pulpit. Now I know he is the same facing death as he has been facing life. When it is time for him to cross the bar he will do so with peace, strength, and humor. It is the way he has always been and the way I expect him to be when I get to sit beside him in heaven.