Dad
“ When my father and my mother forsake me, Then the Lord will take care of me” (Psalm 27:10 NKJV).
On May 5, 2020, we buried Mom. On May 5, 2022, we buried Dad.
In January of 2022, it became apparent my dad was not well. My sister, Sharon, took him to the hospital’s E.R. Two days later, he was diagnosed with COVID pneumonia. He was kept in the hospital for a long seven days. Due to COVID restrictions, no one could see him. This was beyond hard. An 83-year-old man who could not see or hear well was alone in the hospital with no one who knew him. When he came home, he talked about been alone in a dark room, wondering if he had been left to die, as no one came to see him.
Sharon brought Dad home, and we took turns staying with him. I went down each day to see him. Each day was hard, as he was losing strength. On February 28, 2022, Dad passed on to heaven. It has been a struggle for me to have lost both my parents. I’m trusting in God’s promise that I will see them again.
Enjoy the snapshot below of my father.
“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him” (Psalm 103:13).
It often boggles my mind as to how Dad was a great father, husband, leader, and teacher! Dad’s father died from a work-related injury when Dad was just two years old. He was raised by his mom, who had a small income.
Dad was strong in his faith, always putting God first in his life and teaching us to do the same. He always read a Bible story to us at the dinner table despite the many distractions. The phone often rang during devotions. Dad would take it off the hook and stuff it in the towel drawer. (This was long before cell phones.) He was faithful in his own daily reading of God’s Word. When I was 13, he began encouraging me to read my Bible each day. He bought me a devotional and would ask me each day if I had read it.
When I was young, before I received a wheelchair, he carried me everywhere. He was always trying to make my life a little easier. His hands were always big, strong, and rough, and he always smelled of wood. From as far back as I can remember, my dad loved to work with wood—and he could make anything.
Because I could not use my hands, I fed myself by bending down and getting the food off my plate with my mouth. One day, Dad made me a toast holder out of wood. Another time, he made an ice cream cone holder. Sunday evenings were fun. After church, he would make milkshakes or ice cream sundaes for all of us. It was the only thing he could make that was not wooden, although sometimes there were wood splinters in the milkshake if the wooden spoon hit the blades!
Dad always loved me the way I was. He never expected less of me and always encouraged me to be the best I could be. He loved to help me do things that were not expected or accessible. One time at Disney World in Florida, he was so excited that I was able to go on a ride that had been inaccessible the last time we went that he ran with me in my wheelchair towards a moving ramp. My footplates hit the ramp, and I was catapulted out of my chair and onto the moving ramp. I heard a lady yell, “I think she’s dead!” I was still alive and not hurt. The thing I was most upset about was the rip in my shirt.
I am so blessed to have had a daddy who was handpicked for me by God. Thank you, Dad, for living for the Lord, for being real, and for showing us how to live for God. Someday in heaven, I will dance first with my Lord Jesus, then with my daddy.
deborahwillows 