I awakened shortly after 2:00 this morning with leg pain. It was too early to get out of bed and welcome the day, so I tossed and turned as I attempted to go back to sleep. About an hour later, I opted to get up and take two extra strength Tylenol. I won't say that it effectively did the trick, but I did eventually go back to sleep. In the interim, I thought about the Celebration of Life Service that I attended on Friday morning.
The friend being honored was a champion of faith. He lived so well, that he will be long be remembered for his triumph during adversity and the many expressions of kindness throughout his life. He was consistent in his faith walk. His son said of his dad: "Dad was the same in private as he was in public." The strength of his life was found in his love for the Lord and his love for the Lord never varied regardless of his level of pain or any difficulties in which he found himself.
When anyone inquired about his health, his stock answer was always, "I'm super-good." More than once during his final days on this side of eternity, his son countered: "Dad, you are not super-good, you are sick." His dad brushed aside that reality by insightfully suggesting that people don't want to hear your problems. He said my response to people's questions concerning my well-being shouldn't be the catalyst for inviting them to provide me a therapy session. I'm not going to do that.
The son shared one other story about his dad that I have thought of several times over the past three days. During the week after his dad's death, the son had gone into his dad's bank to make an appointment to talk with one of the bankers. The person scheduling those appointments visually seemed a little out of place from what one would suspect of a bank employee interacting with the public. She had an abundance of tattoos and facial piercings. He initially thought that she appeared "a little rough around the edges."
He explained that he needed to make an appointment to visit with a banker because his father had died. They talked for a moment, and the bank employee asked: "May I ask the name of your father?" When he provided his dad's name, an immediate flood gate of tears filled the woman's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. He responded, "I see that you have obviously met my dad." She responded: "Your dad was so kind. Every time he came inside the bank, he sang to me."
In recounting the experience at his dad's Celebration of Life Service, the son said of his dad: "Unlike a lot of other 82-year-old-guys, my dad didn't see tattoos or facial piercings or even the borderline rough around the edges attitude. Instead, he saw someone who was the object of God's love, and he intuitively wanted to share love as well."
Wow! What a tangible example of seizing the opportunity to be a conduit of sharing God's love, instead of being judgmental. With that thought, I drifted off back to sleep with the hope that I would awaken with the resolve to always treat others with kindness.
All My Best!
Don
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