Yesterday, we buried my dad. Our ministers and dear friends led a beautiful service to pay tribute to his life. We sang his favorite hymns, and good words were spoken, but the highlight was the copy of Daddy’s testimony that we found tucked in his Bible. Our pastor read it word for word and delivered it beautifully.
I think I’ll probably tell you that story that Daddy wrote some day — in fact, it may be the heart of a book that’s been brewing in my mind for the past year or so — but today I just think about the impact of his words resounding out through the congregation, proclaiming the Lord’s faithfulness in his life.
As we left the cemetery, my cousin Marilyn said someone told them that Jimmy had just preached his own funeral. And he did a great job of it.
This morning, as I’ve been thinking back on yesterday, I realize that that’s what we are all doing. Each day, each encounter, each word builds into a lifetime portrait of who we were once we’re gone. I couldn’t be prouder of the portrait Daddy painted with his life. I pray that I can do as well.
We are so grateful for the love and support of friends and family that have helped carry us through these past few days and know that we will continue to be blessed by so many. My heart just overflows with gratitude.