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I’ve
lost my greatest cheerleader. My father passed away Sunday at age 96.
Since Dad didn’t live close by he couldn’t come to hear me preach often.
But he called nearly every week to see how things had gone on Sunday. He
wanted a DVD of every service and told me each one was the best sermon
he’d ever heard. He watched for the articles I wrote for the newspaper
and insisted for years that they should be made into a book.
Forty years ago I was a college student and my father was a busy
corporate executive in the prime of life. I came home one weekend and
instead of going to the house went straight to his office. I don’t now
remember why. What I do remember is that as soon as I entered his office
he looked up and said, "You are a sight for sore eyes." I’m sure he said
more, but that’s all I remembered. I was affirmed that no matter how
busy he was that he was still glad that I was there.
A
few years later when I decided to teach school for a year in Haiti he
blessed my decision and came to visit me there. Then when I enrolled in
seminary he encouraged me to follow what I considered God’s design for
my life. He embraced my choice for a wife, got excited about the first
little church I pastored, and helped me pack when we decided to move to
the Caribbean for mission work.
Through the years he always believed in me, always encouraged me, always
visited me. He thought I was much smarter than I really am. He was my
greatest cheerleader.
There were seven of us children, so I was not the only one he was
cheering on. In fact, Father and Mother said they had a system of
praying for their oldest child on Sunday, the next oldest on Monday, and
so on through the week until the youngest got his day on Saturday. I am
the third child, so I knew that my day was Tuesday.
A
few years ago my wife and I were on a trip with my parents. One night we
shared a small cabin. They were in a bedroom on one end and we were on
the other, but in the still of the night I could hear them. I don’t
remember which night of the week it was, but before long I heard them
begin to pray for the child that corresponded to that day. Their
encouragement was not just superficial; it went straight to the heart of
God.
As
they were blessed with grandchildren I noticed that the same belief in
the goodness and potential of their children was passed on to still
another generation. And not just to their own family. They lived well
below their means so that they could set up scholarships, donate funds
for churches, schools and water projects, and bless others. Dad loved to
encourage those younger than he, which by the time he died was about all
of us.
When
Dad was 93 we made a trip to Ecuador and then the next year to Honduras
where we visited churches and schools. Dad loved to see the children, to
give them a smile and a hug. He always believed that every child had
God-given potential. He lived to bless others.
Jesus once said, "Freely you have received freely give." That was my
father’s life. He worked hard, established a strong business and then
poured himself into others, with his time, his money, and his words of
encouragement.
When
we remember those who precede us in death we rarely rave about the size
of their house or the type of car they drove. We don’t call them great
because of the places they visited or the gadgets they owned. What makes
a memory great is the way a person invests his life into others – the
love, encouragement and blessings he leaves.
I
lost my greatest cheerleader this past Sunday – but his cheers still
ring in my heart.
Paul Jetter, Upper Valley Community Church |
