When I Finally Make It Home

"I'm gonna wrap my arms around my daddy's neck and tell him that I've missed him,
and tell him all about the man that I became; and hope that it pleased him, there's so much I want to say; there's so much I want you to know....When I finally make it home...."

I've been thinking a lot about my dad lately. Most of you who read this already know the story, but for those of you who don't I'll tell you. On December 3rd, 2001, my dad went home to be with the Lord. He'd been sick for over five years; since childhood he was over-weight and had diabetes; For years he unknowingly had "mini" heart-attacks (that's what the doctor called them) that he couldn't even feel, all of which led to his "big" heart-attack in 1996. He had open-heart surgery, which was supposed to be a quadruple by-pass, but due to the car-accident he was in back in 1988 they could only do a double. The force of the crash, combined with the fact that he was thrown backward into my car-seat during it, caused his heart to become lodged into is ribcage. Things looked so bad going into the surgery that my mom was told to get my dad's affairs in order. But, by the grace of God, my dad lived for five more years. It was a wake-up call for him. My dad had been a drinker and a gambler, problems that pushed my parents marriage to the breaking point several times. He was saved as a child, but like many people in the world today he was back-slidden. The heart-attack changed that. He gave up drinking and gambling and did his best to change. He began to read his bible again, thanks to the pastor of the church my mom's boss went to giving him a new large print bible and preaching tapes he could listen to. And though my dad had a re-newed interest in God, his health prevented us from going to church most of the time.

It was during those five years that I started to turn away from God. I couldn't understand why my Dad had gotten sick. It forced me to grow up sooner than a kid should. I had to be my dad's care-giver, and I knew how much he was embarrassed about it and how bad he felt about it. He did as much as he could, but that became less and less over time. It angered him, and I'm ashamed to say it angered me too. I hated that I couldn't do what I wanted to do because I had to take care of him....talk about being self-centered. I was angry at God for letting my dad get sick. When my grandfather passed away in 2000, it hit my dad and I really hard. I now understand how my dad must have felt then. By then my dad was in really bad shape. He had been in and out of the hospital more frequently, and my grandfathers death was like the knock-out punch. My dad went down for the count, and this time he wouldn't get back up. He had already been in a nursing home once for a few months before my grandfather died. He would go back three more times in one year.

The night before my dad passed away my mom and I had went to go see him at the nursing home. He had been really bad the week before, but when we saw him he looked a whole lot better. He was glad to hear that I drove to the nursing home (this was just before my 16th birthday), though I knew he wished he could have taught me how to drive. In a way he did, but that's a whole different story (let's just say I had driven a couple of times before I even started drivers training!) ;) . My dad was joking with the nurses and teasing my mom, telling her about how he was flirting with the nurses. He wanted my mom to stay with him that night, like he always did, though he knew she couldn't. He was lonely, and though he knew he would go to heaven when he died, he was scared to die. And as was our custom, I told him I loved him, and he told me he loved me too. Then he did something he usually never did, he asked my mom to leave the room so he could talk to me alone. This is what he said to me: "Miles, I'm not gonna be around much longer...so I know you'll do it anyway, but I want you to promise me you'll take care of your mom. That's your job now. I can't do it, so you'll have to do it for me. Just remember I love you and I'm proud of you." I said that I would and that I loved him too. We said goodbye and my mom and I each gave him a kiss and told him we'd see him tomorrow. And as we went out the door he called out to me again "Miles, you take care of your mom!" and again I said I would. That was the last time I spoke to him. The next day I went to school as usual. It was a pretty normal day, that is until my 6th hour biology class. I had just finished my work when a messenger came in from the office. He told me to grab my things and go to the office because my mom and grandparents were waiting for me. My heart felt like it had fallen onto the floor. I knew my dad was dead. No one had to tell me; I just knew.

If I was angry with God before, now I was enraged. I knew my dad wouldn't live long, I could deal with that, but to have him die just before Christmas and only a month before my 16th birthday was something else. I wanted nothing to do with God. It wasn't until my grandmother got really sick that God's message to me finally sank in. I couldn't do it all by myself. Ever since my dad's heart-attack I had felt like everything rested upon me. I had to do everything, there wasn't anyone else who could. Oh how wrong I was! I had spent all that time doing everything myself, and nothing want the way I thought it would. I hated myself, I hated my life; I was going nowhere. The very thing that God had used to get my dad's attention, was the thing he was trying to get my attention with. The heart-attack showed my dad his need to have God back in his life, and it eventually showed me that I couldn't do it all on my own. I needed God, plain and simple. The bible says in Matthew 11:28-30 "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." That was me, heavy laden. For years I worried about taking care of my dad, then I did the same thing when my grandmother got sick. I couldn't be angry with God for showing me my need for a Savior. I knew that unless I got saved I'd never get into heaven, and I'd never see him or most of my family ever again. My dad learned that lesson right away; it took me twelve years! I let go, and let God.

I can only imagine what it will be like to see my dad again some day. He'll be the first person I want to see after I meet my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And I can here him now saying: "Took you long enough to figure it out!"