"But you heard my cry for mercy and answered my call for help." Psalm 31:22b

We prayed for Dad to be allowed to go home. On Saturday, the father who: read the Bible to us at breakfast, raced from the car at red lights to pick flowers for his girls, played cards with the son for hours, bragged about how proud he was of his grandkids, taught his nephew about tools, could fix anything, smiled for every photo, widened his arms for every hug, and told every person he could that his wife was the best - the man we all loved so dearly went home with the Lord. 

It was not the home we expected. On Wednesday, we began making plans for Dad’s transfer to the rehabilitation center. On Thursday, we learned that Dad was having trouble breathing again. On Friday, he was septic and by Saturday morning he was gone. 

“A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.” Job 14:5

My mom, my siblings and I were all there to hold his hands for his final, peaceful breath. We tangibly saw God’s care for us in details too many to name. We are comforted because we know that God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. 

I can’t help but think that Dad would tell me that he knows exactly how I feel because he lost his dad too. My dad, however, was young when his father died. I have been gifted many more years of praise, adoration, support, education, laughter and love from my dad than he was able to receive from his own. Though nothing will compare to the glorious riches he now has in Christ and though he was always grateful to the men who became fathers in his life, it makes my heart glad to know that the little boy, who grieved so long ago, has been reunited with the daddy that he missed dearly too.