“It is better to go to the house of mourning
than to go to the house of feasting,
for this is the end of all mankind,
and the living will lay it to heart.”
- Solomon...
Dad's death was unexpectedly expected. What do I mean by that?
Dad lived longer than average, but at the end, death still came as a surprise. And, like it or not, we all die. Our personal death is 100% expected, though we may not know just when it's going to happen—probably a good thing. But don't you think it would be good to be prepared?
If so, I have very good news for you! Jesus promises his followers bodily resurrection And you are invited to escape death, to receive eternal life, and to be given a brand-new, perfected body on the last day. Ask Jesus, the Creator/God of the cosmos, to do that for you. He's promised that if you come to him believing, he won't turn you away.
My earthly father's flown away.
His body—left behind—
Though deathly still,
Awaits The Shout,
When Jesus wakes mankind.
Recollections; thought collections,
Comfort, strength,
Deep introspection.
Dad did preside;
He'd guide, provide.
Instructing, walked beside.
When young, I grew;
Dad's presence knew,
Both comfort,
And some terror, too.
Step out of line?
Warm my behind!
Dad trained my mind
Right paths to find.
A youthful fever dream
On bed of crunching bone...
I cried.
Dad came.
He rubbed my back,
Did not leave me alone.
At his touch, my simple kite
Leapt to the skies,
Won me first prize!
Dad became a legend in my eyes.
Perched on two back seats,
A wiki for leaks,
Dad's Luscombe in motion
Over the ocean;
Adventurous, powerful potion.
Can you hear him coming?
Dad buzzes the house...
Let's go to the field
Let's get him!
Dad's Cessna spins,
And—dizzying—
The earth revolves before my eyes.
Opposite rudder!
Push that stick!
React, and no one dies.
Consummate craftsman, leader of men,
Who wouldn't work for Gee?
A triangle—(three-four-five)—
Will make that footing square!
Wish I'd learned more from him
While Dad was still here...
=
In the heavens, Dad now waits,
While his body turns to dust.
The resurrection, long-delayed,
Will happen when it must.
Now, patient, I must be,
Not yet my turn to fly.
What wondrous new career
Will Dad now occupy?
When on that shore we meet,
We'll plot our next adventure sweet—
But first, a grateful pause
At Jesus' feet.
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@creatrThanks for your time and attention.
You are why I'm here on Hive!
I have very eclectic interests and hope, over time, to write about them all.
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