I’m sitting at Daddy’s desk writing this post surrounded by all that he used to look at when he would work here, which is mostly pictures.
Layers of pictures are pinned to a small bulletin board suspended above the desk; dozens others are trapped under a large rectangular piece of plexi-glass on the desktop. Faces young and old: missionaries, orphans and family members– smiles frozen in time–all knew that Daddy was praying for them. They stare back at me as I type. How do we let them all know he’s gone?
Twelve of the pictures are of orphans he and Mom supported since birth. Partnering with World Vision, my parents helped raise these kids–my “adopted” brothers and sisters. Will they know him when they meet him in heaven?
I miss him. I keep thinking he will just walk around the corner and make some goofy face at me and tell me that he loves me. I keep waiting and hoping, then I remember he’s gone and feel silly.
Today is 30 days since Daddy went to heaven. I picture him there with his mother and father, his brother’s and sister, all basking in the Lord’s presence. What is it like to die?
That’s all Daddy ever talked about–meeting Jesus, being with Him in glory and being free of earthly sorrow and pain. His hope in a heavenly promotion is filled and when the crowns are passed out, I’m sure my Daddy will be wearing quite a few! I’m also sure that he will quickly cast them at the feet of Jesus in grateful worship.
I miss him but I’m not sorry he’s gone. He’s happier now than he ever imagined.
“We are confident, yes, well pleased rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5:8
Galen R. Courtney
1933 – 2011