I’d like to invite you to think back to a time just over ten months ago. The big ball dropped and the calendar turned and suddenly at was 2020.
It seemed to most everyone that this would be a significant year. It made marketing and vision-casting so very easy: “This is our 2020 Vision!”
What did you imagine was ahead? What goals did you set? What plans did you make?
What the heck happened?
We’ve all had to postpone things, postpone again, and eventually just cancel.
We’ve all had dreams deferred.
We’ve all had goals forgotten.
And we’ve all done things we never thought we would do.
I never thought I’d attend a virtual birthday party for my four-year-old grandson.
I never thought I’d preach an Easter Sunday sermon from my rocking chair in my living room.
Almost everything I’ve mentioned so far is covid-related.
But there are plenty of other things that have happened this year that I never imagined.
The most recent of those happened last Friday, November 13.
My dad was born on November 13, 1935, so November 13 has always been a special day.
Last Friday, my brother and I were together doing something that we never, ever imagined we would be doing on Dad’s birthday.
We were digging his grave.
Photo includes Dad’s chair he sat on to watch the work on the ranch.
Dad died on April 8, right in the middle of the nationwide covid shutdown. His death was not covid related, but the timing prevented us from being able to have the memorial service we would have had otherwise, with family and friends gathered.
So, we waited until some restrictions were lifted and had a memorial service on June 14. Not everyone who wanted to come was able to do so, but there was a good number of friends and family present and we live-streamed the service on Facebook for those who were unable to attend.
There was only one thing that we just couldn’t pull off at the time—the military honor guard at the cemetery. At that time, restrictions on the military prevented that from happening.
Dad was proud of his 35 years of service in the United States Army. Almost all of it was as a reservist, but he rose to the rank of full-bird Colonel and served as Battalion Commander of the 49th Armored Division before his retirement.
We knew that our honoring of Dad would not be complete until we could honor his service to our country.
We finally got word a few weeks ago that military honor guards had been released and so we planned a small family gathering for November 14, the week of Veteran’s Day and Dad’s 85th birthday.
It was just my brother and me, our wives and children, and two army reservists out of Lubbock.
We celebrated Dad’s love for his country, his Lord, and his family and then we placed the container of his cremains in the grave we had dug the day before and we closed the grave together as a family.
As I put the last few shovels full of dirt on the grave, it hit me how sacred this moment was for our family. There was something incredibly cathartic about doing for our dad and grandpa what would have been completely normal for families just a few generations ago.
Our culture has found a way to take a step back from death as part of the cycle of life. That is not intended as a criticism; it’s simply an observation. I’m grateful for the special ministry that funeral directors and mortuaries have.
But I will treasure the memory of Saturday for as long as I live.
And it reminds me to look for the sacred in everything else I do that I never thought I would do.
My friends, we are living in an amazing time. Let’s not squander the opportunities to hear the still, small voice of God because we are too busy shouting at each other.
My friends, we are living in an amazing time. Let’s not squander the opportunities to hear the still, small voice of God because we are too busy shouting at each other. Share on XBe amazing today, my friend.
