November 1st, 2019, my Dad was released from his fragile, pain-ridden, earthly tent into the loving arms of his Savior. Finally, my Dad is pain-free and dancing with his Jesus. I’m happy for him! And I look forward to joining him some day.
As I prayed about a fitting tribute to publish here, the Lord reminded me of two things: 1) a touching memory and 2) a poignant poem.
The memory:
Family and prayer create the tenderness of this memory. During a season of family crisis, my earthly Father and I met weekly to pray to our Heavenly Father. My Dad and I held each leaf on our family tree with tenderness before The God who created them. The hours of sweet communion with both my Fathers, were some of the most treasured times in my life. And I knew it, even then. Because I wanted to savor those moments, I include even our extended family in our prayer times. If you are even remotely related to us, by blood or marriage, your name was mentioned in the throne room of heaven that year.
It has been so long ago, that I can’t remember why we stopped our weekly prayer meetings. But it created in me a desire to have a group of patriarchs watching over my family in prayer. And I suppose they are . . . just not here, in the earthly realm. . . .
The poem:
Who Watches Over Me
By Laura Jones
Now that my father is gone, I wonder, does he still watch over me?
I was a carefree child with no fear or worries because my father watched over me.
All I needed: food, clothing, shelter, were just there; I never had to think about them at all.
I never knew the toil that took place to provide all those things.
I never understood the love that motivated the actions.
I was a child, carefree, ungrateful, unaware . . . but still
Watched over by one who loved me more than his own life.
Now I see this same watchfulness in my husband.
He watches over our children like my father watched over me.
We are free and careless under his watchful eye.
Confident in all our provisions.
Yet, too often, our gratitude is weak.
And though it causes him sadness
It never affects the love and provision that always comes our way.
Grateful or not, still . . .he would lay down his life for us.
How divine are our Fathers.
A role so similar to God’s that He Himself chose “Father” to describe Himself.
“Provider”, “Counselor”, “Fortress”, “Strong Arm”, “Shield”, “The One Who Sees Me.”
All these names for God, names of the Father, names of my father and my husband.
So closely tied in my mind, they sometimes seem the same.
What a beautiful image fathers have created in me.
An image of love coming down from my Father,
Who watches over me.