[Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Wednesday, June 18, 2014

[Rob Kaiser]

My dad died 2010 tomorrow. I was on medical leave from my job when my mom 
got me a ticket to chicago to see him. At that time, it didn't look like he 
would go that fast. The day before he died (durring that time he wasn't 
himself) On Thursday afternoon, he was himself for about an hour. He tried 
to read the riet act to me regarding my present caregiver situation.

He died the next morning. His heart just gave out. I have discussed this 
with my fiance,Sarah. She & I have come to the conclusion that it was like 
he knew he was going to die soon. I still miss dad, but I still have the 
memories of him and I always will have that.

thank you for the article.



-----Original Message----- 
From: Paul via Faith-talk
Sent: Wednesday, June 18, 2014 1:47 PM
To: angelsongs at yahoogroups.com
Subject: [Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Hello once again to all my loyal readers out there.  I hope that this 
message finds you well, by God's matchless grace and His providential care.

I can't recall whether or not I shared the following story with most of you 
before.  Be that as it may, I hope you enjoy it.  This article was written 
by Aaron Fenner of Ithaca, NY and is entitled "Do What You Love," rendered 
as follows:

In our family, Mom ran the household.  Dad was the chef.  He was our go-to 
guy, especially for anything grilled--beef, chicken, pork, you name it.  As 
next-in-line grill man, I assisted him on the back porch, overseeing food 
prep alongside our classic Weber grill, where Dad would handle the cooking, 
grilling tongs in hand like a scepter.  Those were happy times.  Basking in 
Dad's attention, absorbing critical knowledge on the barbecue arts, sharing 
man-to-man talks.  There was something about standing over hot coals and 
sizzling food that enabled us both to let our guard down.

The summer after high school I needed all the help I could get.  In two 
months I'd be off to college.  I hadn't the faintest idea what I should 
major in.  What frightened me most was this:  Dad had always been there to 
advise me, and now, when I needed his help most, I worried he wouldn't be 
around much longer.  When I was five, he was diagnosed with Hodgkin's 
disease, an aggressive form of cancer.  For the last few years, he'd been in 
remission, but with cancer you just never know.

"Dad," I said one night, as we stood in front of the steaming grill, "there 
are so many decisions to make.  How will I know what to do?"

Dad said nothing at first.  Instead, he took the tongs--his long 
silver-colored grilling tongs.  I never touched them.  "They're for the man 
of the house," he'd always say.  Then he flipped the pork loin that was 
smoking.  "It will all work out," he said softly.  "Trust in God.  And do 
what you love."

I nodded like I understood, though I really didn't.  When Dad started 
teasing me about my grilling IQ, I was secretly relieved.  Between Dad's 
illness and navigating my way through college, the future seemed so 
confusing, so uncertain.  I didn't want to think about it.

I went off to college that August.  I had a million decisions to make, all 
on my own without Dad there to help me:  Do I take this course or that? 
Should I join a fraternity? What's the best strategy for budgeting my time? 
Is this girl I'm dating the right one for me?

I was just starting to get a hold on things.  Then on Christmas Day my 
freshman year Dad's cancer came back.  The next year I got a call from Mom. 
"You need to come home," she said.  "Your father is dying." He didn't last 
long.  Not long enough for me to have any more serious talks with him about 
all those decisions I had to make.  After the memorial service, I was lost. 
I drifted from class to class in a daze.  I have to snap out of this, I 
thought.  Dad wouldn't want me this way.

Somehow I struggled through the remainder of the school year.  After my last 
exam, I packed up my things and returned home, still consumed by grief.

Mom was waiting for me.  "I miss him as much as you do," she said.  "But we 
still have our lives to live."

Just then I looked out the back door, into the backyard.  There sat the old 
Weber grill.  Dad's grill.  I went outside, walked up to it, and memories of 
Dad came flooding back.  The silly jokes, the bear hugs, the shared 
confidences.  I teared up.  Something came over me.  I kicked the grill, 
hard.  Ow! Something whacked me in the knee.  Dad's tongs.  I picked them 
up, looked to Mom in the kitchen.  It's time to be a man, I thought.  The 
man Dad would want me to be.  I strode into the house, past Mom, to the 
kitchen cabinet where she stored herbs and spices, and I mixed up a nice 
spice rub, one of Dad's specialties.  I fired up the grill, then grabbed a 
pork loin from the fridge, put it on a plate and sprinkled spices and olive 
oil on it.  I took the pair of tongs as though they were my own.  Now I was 
the man of the house.  "Dad, I'm ready," I said.  The meal was delicious. 
As good as Mom and I could remember.  Afterward, we shared a good cry.  "He 
taught you well," she said.

Two years have passed.  I still miss Dad.  I miss our talks.  But he was 
right.  I have started to figure things out on my own.  I found a great 
girl.  We're engaged.  And I just graduated with a degree in hotel and 
restaurant management.  Doing what I love.

And there you have Aaron's story which I hope you enjoyed reading.  Maybe by 
now he's working in a place somewhere in the Catskills, or perhaps in one of 
the towns along Lake Champlain like Plattsburgh, NY or any number of towns 
on the Vermont side of the lake.  I've no idea, but I hope that he's doing 
well, by God's matchless grace and His providential care.  I've had this 
article for over three years now.

And now may the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, 
individually and collectively, in these last days in which we live.  Lord 
willing, tomorrow there will be another daily thought message and article 
for you.  Your Christian friend and brother, Paul
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