Go Beyond

   I traveled to my hometown this week to visit with my Dad. He is a healthy and active octogenarian who is still coping with the death of his beloved Frances, my beautiful Mom. It’s been almost nine months since Mom passed away, very unexpectedly. We will never get over Mom’s death but we are learning to live with her absence. It’s hard. Dad still goes to the cemetery every day. After Mom passed away, he and I did lots of work on our family plot. It’s a lovely and quiet place where two generations of our family are buried beneath the shade of old trees. Dad likes to go there to read from his daily devotional guide and to reflect on almost fifty-four years of marriage to the beautiful girl who had first taken his breath away when he was a young man.

   I realize now more than ever how fortunate I am to have had a Mom and Dad who were head-over-heels in love with each other — and never got over it. After Mom died, a long-time neighbor commented that my Mom always talked about my Dad like a school girl talks about her first boyfriend. When I was growing up, I took it for granted that my parents loved each other so deeply. Today, looking back across the years, I see things more clearly. As an adult, I have searched the archives of my childhood memories but can’t find any evidence that my Mom or Dad ever exchanged harsh words or were unkind to each other. I didn’t think there was anything unusual about that when I was a kid. However, after investing countless hours helping families in crisis over thirty-two years of ministry, I now realize just how unusual it was.

   The best thing that my parents did for me and my siblings was to love one another. We were the beneficiaries of their enduring love. It made our home a stable and safe place. My siblings and I never went to bed at night worried about what our parents might say or do to hurt one another — or us. Their love kept that worry, and other childhood worries and fears, far away from our door. Love makes a difference! I understand why my Dad continues to grieve in his own quiet way and why he goes to the cemetery every day. He and my Mom had become one — and because of that, a part of him was buried with her on June 2 of last year. Cancer destroyed my Mom’s body and took her from us. But, cancer and death were powerless to destroy my parents enduring love. I learned about faith, hope, and love from my Mom and Dad. And today, I understand a little better why the greatest of these is indeed love (1 Cor. 13:13).