The phone call instructed I must come quick. Daddy’s hours on earth were coming to an end. I pressed the accelerator to the floor and headed for the convalescent center. “Lord, please give me a word, a sign, something to know my dad belongs to You and we’ll be together again in heaven.”
Daddy came to live with us after Mama died, bringing his impatience and ill temper as roommates. I was desperate for assurance that he was heaven bound.
Daddy had long since quit going to church. I never saw him open his Bible or pray, other than grace over a meal. Yet, “Amazing Grace” had been his life’s song. He taught the lyrics to his first grandchild. And to Daddy’s delight this toddler ran up and down in his crib at dawn each morning singing “’mazing grace, sweet da sound, ‘mazing grace, sweet da sound.”
A few days before his death I found the courage to ask, “Daddy, are you afraid to die?”
He retorted with his usual impatience. “Of course not.”
I pressed the issue. “Daddy, when God calls a believer home, He sends His angels to bring them to the other side.”
“Well, I’m just standin’ here waitin’ and a wavin’,” he said, then refused to listen to another word on the subject.
Two days later that dreaded call came and I sped toward the nursing facility.
“Not yet, Lord please—not yet.”
I crept into his room and sat rigid and motionless in that universal plastic covered hospital chair. My eyes shifted from his frail form to those troublesome monitors beeping irreverent sounds.
Daddy lapsed into unconsciousness before I arrived so there were no goodbyes. My mind swirled from loneliness to fear as I sat helpless—watching him slip from this life—nothing to do but wait in that place where time becomes meaningless and death is a breath away.
A slight rustling brought me back to reality. Daddy rolled from his side to his back. His arm shot from beneath the covers. With eyes still closed, an ear-to-ear grin enveloped his face. He waved and waved—then he was gone.
Numbness shrouded my heart and mind. Nurses and medical personnel rushed in and out of the room, asking questions, giving instructions. It was over. And it took every ounce of strength to finally walk out of that room, to my car, and drive out of the parking lot. God had given me no answer. Dark waves of anguish and grief swelled then crashed over my conflicted soul.
A traffic light ahead changed to red and I slammed on brakes with Daddy’s words echoing in my ears, “I’m just standin’ here, waitin’ and a wavin’.”
God had answered my prayer—I hadn’t been listening! Sweet peace and joy flooded my soul. Tears of relief and release washed away the anguish and God’s understanding comforted my grieving heart. His angels came. At their appointed time. Daddy’s waitin’ over, they carried him smilin’ and wavin’ into the presence of his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16
I love this story DiAne. I was unsure of my brother’s salvation (even though he told me he knew he was going to heaven) because he didn’t live like it. About three months after he died, God assured me that he was in heaven with Him. I also experienced the peace, joy and relief as you did. Nothing like it!
I love the toddler running in bed singing Amazing Grace. Precious!
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Lynn once you’ve experienced God’s peace, joy, and relief doesn’t it make you long to know first-hand what our departed loved ones are living with each day? What a day that will be “when my Jesus I shall see”. Thanks for reading and sharing your story. Wonder how many others have similar accounts?
DiAne
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The adult daughter taking the aged father to the door of eternity is a pain-and a blessing- that I just can’t get over. That God would let me-make me- be the one to hand over my father to my God is unfathomable to me. Your description brought it all back.
Thanks, I think.
Joye
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Precious Joye, yes, God is unfathomable as are His ways. The cost of loving is the rotor-rooter of grief. The good news is that once our hearts are drilled from the emptiness of grief, God will then fill our hearts with His joy and love for others if we allow Him to. In the process we come to the understanding that joy and pain can co-exist in our hearts and that’s a good thing. It’s been twelve years since Daddy passed from death into life and eleven years since our daughter made that same journey. Does it still twinge my heart with great sadness? Oh my yes. Sadness for me. But it also reminds me that “the secret things belong to the Lord God” and I trust Him even though I am without understanding. The wonderful news is that our fathers, my mother and my daughter now fully understand and behold His glory. Someday so will we.
DiAne
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Awesome. I now know I didn’t ask the right question even Momma went. But HE did send word by my little sister. Blessings to you.
HONOR & GLORY TO THE KING!
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Diane, forgive me for being so late in replying to you. Been out-of-town. Thank you for reading and replying to the blog and giving honor and glory to The King.
DiAne
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