A Father’s love…. By Pastor Steve Sommerer
Calm fell over the hospital room as John Sr. sank stiffly into the chair beside his son John Junior’s bed. Daughter-in-law Mary had just left to tuck his three young grandsons into their beds at home. For a week, the family had been keeping prayerful vigil, expecting at any moment John’s eyes to open and his voice to bark a loud greeting.
Since the accident he hadn’t awakened. The silence broken only by soft beeps from the myriad monitors… his breathing aided by the humming ventilator. As the 63 year old dad sat quietly with his 31 year old son, he watched the numbers on the machines hoping any moment the signal of improvement. Senior’s thoughts swept him back to his wife Jean’s bedside the day one year ago her breathing came to a labored halt after the ravages of a year and a half of ALS. On that day, John Jr. stood weeping by the bed, holding mom in one hand and dad in the other.
Now, too soon, dad sat silently with his Johnny, remembering three grandsons at home falling into a fitful sleep, wondering when their daddy would come home to hold them again. He took his son’s strong, calloused hand, as he and his wife had done so many times from infancy on. He softly whispered their evening prayer, aching to be joined by his child’s voice: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray, Thee Lord, my soul to keep. If I should die… If I should die before I wake, I pray, Thee Lord, my soul to take.”
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want…” Hour after weary hour the prayers carried him deeply into the night. Through moistened eyes Senior remembered years when little Johnny couldn’t sit still through such prayers, antsily squirming through church. First, coloring on the church pew, next crawling under their feet, squirming to get through mom’s pew blockade and freedom, then wriggling under the pew to grab Mrs. Jones purse from under the bench. Year after year, John Sr. and Jean prayed and read devotions and taught Johnny about Jesus and His love. The Church had always been the foundation of their home, and while Jean had gone to be with Jesus John Sr. still found strength in the old words of God’s truth. Each week he looked forward to sitting with his family, being fed with God’s strength. It warmed Senior’s heart to see Mary carrying the youngest down the aisle of the church, the oldest grandson marching obediently behind. Grandpa was holding their spot. Without fail week after week, John Jr. brought up the rear shepherding his family to the Fount of Christ’s living water – God’s precious Word. The place that for years had been Jean’s now belonged to grandsons – who made it more challenging to listen, but belonged no where else than in God’s house.
John Jr. had grown to a strong man, raising his own children to know Jesus. Dad remembered talks with his son who so wanted his three boys to be men of God – men like their Grandpa John Sr.
John’s wife Mary was coping with super-human strength, lifted in the arms of God’s mercy to confront what began to seem inevitable, John wasn’t getting better. These three young souls would be her own now. Grandpa would be there as long as God allowed – to remind them of their Savior; yet, with age and failing health, John Sr. knew only Jesus their Savior would be by their sides as they grew to manhood.
“God is our Refuge and Strength, an ever-present help in time of trouble… Be still and know that I am God.” “Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God… Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalms and prayers buried in Senior’s heart, some learned at his own mother’s knee, others learned from a life lived in God’s Word, spilled forth in quick succession.
Many years earlier, every morning and evening after John Sr. had led his family in prayer at the family altar, it had been his practice to ask God’s hand of protection to surround young John. His beloved wife Jean prayed that God would preserve for Johnny a pure and Godly wife to bless his future home – one who shared his love for Jesus. Those prayers were answered, and now John’s three boys knew the same love of their Savior, gathering at their own family altar with Mary and John and together in their family pew. “Dear God, help them to survive this sadness. Let them walk with you all their days and see their daddy again when you come again.” Senior’s heart ached at the thought.
Soon John’s grief-lined face fell into a silent sleep. There was little Johnny scampering diaper-less across the room, as Senior hovered over his morning coffee. Squeals of joy echoed as he raced the hallway – his flushed, little face and red cheeks pulled back to reveal every new tooth. Shrieking with delight, as he ran by dad, Senior reached out to snatch the runaway boy, and as he reached little Johnny, his joyous baby face faded into the mists of treasured memory. Dad’s smiling face startled momentarily awake to the quiet hospital room and drifted back to sleep.
Sleep transported him to that awful night when the phone woke him. Mary had gone into labor much too soon. John Jr. was taking her to the hospital. “Dad, bring mom and call the pastor.” At the hospital, John Sr. and Jean waited, paced and prayed that their first grandchild, a little girl, would be alright. The pastor had been rushed in after his arrival, but still they had no word.
After an eternity of waiting, pastor walked in and hugged Jean, showing us through the doors and into Mary’s room where she held her silent little girl, John stroking her infant hair. She had come too early – so tiny and perfect – yet her little life was swiftly drawing to a close, as she breathed shallowly in her warm swaddle. “Her name is Jeannie,” John Jr.’s voice broke, “She’s beautiful just like her grandma.”
For one hour, little Jeannie felt the love of her family before slipping quietly away – her last moments in the arms of Grandma Jean, who wept as she sang, “I am Jesus’ little lamb.” God knew his little Jeannie. He named her into His family of the baptized. Pastor prayed for our strength and gave thanks to God for Jeannie’s victory in Jesus her Savior. He read from the Bible: “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you… All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.” Five short years later, three noisy boys had filled her place, but baby Jeannie had left her permanent imprint in our hearts.
Now, Senior woke with tears tracing the creases of his face. Soon John Jr. will get to hold little Jeannie again he thought, if he can pry her from his mother’s arms. The very thought forced a sad, yet strangely joyous feeling. This is what he had spent his whole life praying and working toward. God had blessed him with Jean, a true woman of God. He had blessed him with son John and beautiful Mary, John’s Christian helpmeet. He had blessed him with a sainted granddaughter and three precious grandsons who knew and loved their Savior. Junior’s death would bring a relentless tide of grief, lapping relentlessly at the heart of those who loved him. Yet, he also knew this was the consummation of God’s promise – Jesus would soon take Johnny home. That had been Senior’s prayerful goal from the day John Jr. begrudgingly and vocally vacated his mother’s womb. That day Senior kissed Jean’s tussled hair and whispered: “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”
“We will serve the Lord,” he whispered again. For all the fear and pain tearing away inside, Senior began to turn over in his mind Job’s words: “The Lord giveth. The Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” If the storm clouds of sadness in recent years obscured the joys of life, unleashing torrential grief, John knew (in the words of his favorite hymn): “A golden evening brightens in the west; Soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest; Sweet is the calm of paradise the blest. Alleluia! Alleluia! But lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day: The saints triumphant rise in bright array; The King of Glory passes on His way. Alleluia! Alleluia!”
With the beloved melody echoing in his mind, Senior’s eyes slipped back into focus, drawn to the simple, wooden cross standing out against the white wall. His little Johnny would spend this Christmas in heaven, and soon by God’s grace he’d join him with our Heavenly Father. Jesus died to make it so. God the Father loved His Son more than any earthly dad could, but He sent Jesus to win a place for us in heaven.
With pursed lips and teeth biting back sobs, Dad clasped John’s hand tightly in his own: “Dear Father, thank you for our Johnny; for the blessings of his life and the joys he knew. Even as you gave him to me, I give him back to you. I tried to raise him right, but you know how often I failed. He loves you with all his heart, and He’s ready for whatever you choose. Lord, be with me and Mary and the boys. Help us to know that through faith in your Son, we will all be with you one day…” Then remembering his father’s prayers over his own childhood bed, Senior sang: “Let my near and dear ones be Always near and dear to Thee; O bring me and all I love To Thy happy home above… … … Teach me to live that I may dread The grave as little as my bed. Teach me to die that so I may Rise glorious at the awful day. Amen.”