Posted on 09/06/2006 2:15:31 AM PDT by Recovering_Democrat
"Thou remainest" (Heb. 1:11).
There are always lone hearth-fires; so many! And those who sit beside them, with the empty chair, cannot restrain the tears that will come. One sits alone so much. There is some One unseen, just here within reach. But somehow we don't realize His presence. Realizing is blessed, but--rare. It belongs to the mood, to the feelings. It is dependent on weather conditions and bodily conditions. The rain, the heavy fog outside, the poor sleep, the twinging pain, these make one's mood so much, they seem to blur out the realizing. But there is something a little higher up than realizing. It is yet more blessed. It is independent of these outer conditions, it is something that abides. It is this: recognizing that Presence unseen, so wondrous and quieting, so soothing and calming and warming. Recognize His presence--the Master's own. He is here, close by; His presence is real. Recognizing will help realizing, too, but it never depends on it. Aye, more, immensely more, the Truth is a Presence, not a thing, a fact, a statement. Some One is present, a warm-hearted Friend, an all-powerful Lord. And this is the joyful truth for weeping hearts everywhere, whatever be the hand that has drawn the tears; by whatever stream it be that your weeping willow is planted. --S. D. Gordon
When from my life the old-time joys have vanished,
Treasures once mine, I may no longer claim,
This truth may feed my hungry heart, and famished:
Lord, THOU REMAINEST THOU art still the same!
When streams have dried, those streams of glad refreshing--
Friendships so blest, so rich, so free;
When sun-kissed skies give place to clouds depressing,
Lord, THOU REMAINEST! Still my heart hath THEE.
When strength hath failed, and feet, now worn and weary,
On gladsome errands may no longer go,
Why should I sigh, or let the days be dreary?
Lord, THOU REMAINEST! Could'st Thou more bestow?
Thus through life's days--whoe'er or what may fail me,
Friends, friendships, joys, in small or great degree,
Songs may be mine, no sadness need assail me,
Lord, THOU REMAINEST! Still my heart hath THEE. --J. D. Smith
Look to the One who won't turn away, and who is always there.
Thank You. Excellent post. And if I may add:
As children bring their broken toys
with tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God
because He was my friend.
But, then instead of leaving Him
in peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
with ways that were my own.
At last I snatched them back and cried,
"How could You be so slow?"
"My child," He said,
"What could I do.....You never did let go."
MM
Bookmarked and bttt!
Ping.
Great Post!
BTTT!
Thanks for the ping!
In FOUR YEARS, ADAM PUTNAM FOR GOVERNOR. Adam could win.
What a wonderful reminder!
Yep.
ping
"Given your two choices, do you want to be the next governor?" LOL
don't you just luv typos?
I've found this to be so true in my own struggles. Life has never been easy but as I travel the King's Highway, I grow more at peace with all that's gone and going on around me. And it's all because of HIM.
I always liked that one, too.
When strength hath failed, and feet, now worn and weary,
On gladsome errands may no longer go,
Why should I sigh, or let the days be dreary?
Lord, THOU REMAINEST! Could'st Thou more bestow?
Thus through life's days--whoe'er or what may fail me,
Friends, friendships, joys, in small or great degree,
Songs may be mine, no sadness need assail me,
Lord, THOU REMAINEST! Still my heart hath THEE. --J. D. Smith
crist was a fraud yesterday and he's still one today.
After years of suffering with a painful hip and later an artificial hip which was never quite right, chronic severe swelling of his legs (to the point of the skin splitting on occasion) and the increasing severity of what had been mild diabetes, including beginning to lose his eyesight rather quickly of late, my dad, age 77, committed suicide early this past Friday, September 1st.
My mom heard him leave the house just after 6 a.m., which he did every day on his way to drive the back roads and see whatever wildlife (primarily deer) showed itself that day and then stop for breakfast at a local diner. After picking that last of the tomatoes growing in the bucket in the back yard, placing the owner's manuals for his lawn mower and snowblower on their respective pieces of machinery, and leaving his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter (so as not to risk them being taken by the cops or anyone who may have found him,) he drove to a secluded spot on a dead-end (no pun intended, I guess) road near the farm where he spent most of his childhood. He used a 6-foot wooden ladder to prop his .22 rifle in position, fired it into his forehead, and fell dead in the gravel on a beautiful, sunny morning as the birds sang and the breeze blew in the trees around him. The funeral was this past Monday, and we were able to have an open casket, which is our tradition.
We believe the doctors were suggesting amputating his legs, as none of their treatments were working. Even the handfuls of pain pills he was taking were no longer working. He could still walk, but it was a halting, troublesome process, and was as painful to watch as it was for him to endure. Couple that with the hastening onset of blindness, and it got to be more than he could take. He left a short note, the text of which I will share here: "To my family: I'm sorry I failed. But I can't take any more of this day and night pain." At the bottom, written in different ink and, we think, just before he did the deed, were the words "No more." He also included his phone number, so the cops would know who to call.
He was a man who did hard physical work all his life, was the life of the party in his younger days (and party hearty he did-he liked his beer in his day), had a quick sense of humor, loved hunting, fishing and gardening, and his charcoal-grilling techniques were sought after at every social gathering. He was a master of chicken on the grill, especially, but had grilled everything from buffalo and elk to moose and bear, all of it to perfection. He delivered milk and dairy products in the area for 37 years (from 1953 to 1990, when he retired early due to his bad hip) and was known, liked and loved by many, many people. He made his share of enemies over the years as well, as he wasn't afraid to give unsolicited advice, or tell anyone his blunt opinion at any time. (I take after him strongly in that manner. :-) )
For a man who had been so active throughout his life with his gardening, and to whom opening day of deer season was an event to which he counted down the days on the calendar with a pen in March or April, being reduced to a life of 22 hours a day in a lift-recliner (which was his life for the last three years or so) and the prospect of being a legless blind man in a wheelchair, was more than he could bear.
He wasn't a regular churchgoer, but was a devoted Lutheran who worshipped in his own way, and whose faith never wavered, as was attested to by the pastor of his church, who met with him and gave him communion monthly for the last several months.
He left behind my mom, my brother, myself and our wives, five grandchildren, his four brothers and sisters, numerous nieces, nephews, cousins and many friends.
It's sad that he was so despondent, to the point of taking matters into his own hands, but one can certainly see how he became so depressed, given his health, or lack thereof, and the constant, unrelenting pain in his legs and back.
I think no less of him for doing what he did, and I hope and pray that the Lord will smile upon his soul and welcome him into the Heavenly fold where he can be with his mother, whom he loved dearly, a nephew and hunting buddy who was taken in a car accident in 1984, and a granddaughter who was stillborn 25 years ago.
He and my mom, who is 82 years old now, were married for over 56 years. She is taking it very well, as she has always had great inner strength. She came through the Great Depression and lived a hard life in her own right, and her strength comes from deep faith in God, and from the support of her family, friends, neighbors and church. She'll be moving to an apartment near my brother's home, about 75 miles from the home she's lived in since 1961. With the winter coming and her not having driven a car since 1981, plus a big yard to care for, it's best that she go someplace where she won't be alone, won't have stairs to navigate, and where my brother and his wife and youngest daughter can be her "taxi".
All in all, it's been a very sad and unfortunate end for a good man, but in the long run, it's probably a blessing for those of us he left behind, and most of all for my mom. If his health continued to deteriorate and he was confined to a wheelchair, there is no way she could have cared for him. A lot of headache, heartache and expense that they couldn't afford have now been saved.
My brother is handling the task of getting my parent's finances figured out, as my dad handled all of that. I've spent 12 hours each of the last two days felling and trimming trees and brush around their yard that my dad had let slip these last few years, and arranging some of the tons of stuff he had in the garage and shed. My dad had planted over 50 trees and shrubs on their 2 1/2 acres over the years, and they needed a lot of work. I feel like I've been run over by a dump truck, but I've gotten most of it done now. Mom is going with my brother to look at what may be her new apartment this afternoon, and we'll put the house up for sale in the spring, after we've had time to go through the lifetime of stuff they have packed away in there.
We're moving on, and we'll all be okay. I felt the need to post this and let all the good Freepers here know about my dad and give a glimpse into his life. Thanks for posting this thread, Recovering_Democrat. It couldn't have come at a more opportune time.
If you've read this far, thank you very much, and all I ask is that you say a prayer for my dad's soul and for my mom. He was a good man, and will be missed, especially when I venture into the woods hunting deer this fall, on the same land that we used to hunt together until he quit hunting in 2001. I will see and hear him everywhere, and I'm thankful for the memories, and to my dad, just for being my dad.
What a nice thought, and a lovely post to express it. It puts me in mind of Father Tim's little morning prayer in Jan Karon's wonderful Mitford stories -- "Lord, make me a blessing to someone today!"
Amen, NorthWoody. I am grateful this thread was a blessing to you. May God and his angels--some seen, others unseen--provide comfort to you, your mom and the rest of the family in this difficult time.
Pass along His blessings when you see another in need.
RD
Yes He is.
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