Son ... you're up ...

?It’s been a long time since I’ve visited my father’s hometown of Thomasville, Georgia, but one day soon I’ll make a special trip to that special place. He loved it there: he loved his first home as he liked to call Thomasville. He carved out a special place in his heart for that small town and hearing him talk about growing up there always filled me with joy. During those times, I could actually see him drifting back in time to an innocence every adult has longed for at some point.

I loved hearing him talk about Tombs Pond; a place that served as the official hangout for he and his buddies. A conversation about home wasn’t complete without a mention of my grandfathers’ church. Each time he spoke of it, he’d laugh and shake his head remembering how every waking hour of every Sunday was seemingly spent there. He enjoyed school and always made, “good marks” or good grades to us young people. He enjoyed going to school learning, growing, and building lifelong bonds with his friends. But one day, he sheepishly admitted that the highlight of his school day was opening his lunch pot to see what his mother packed for him.  “That was some good eating Lynn”, is what he told me that day. Even as a youngster that man was a sucker for a good country meal. You’ve got to love him.

My father and his stories – I cherish them all. But the story I cherish most is when his father told him the time had come to leave home.

***

My grandfathers’ calling was to preach; and he did that well. When he wasn’t preaching, family was his priority. As such he did whatever was necessary to keep a roof over their heads and food on their table. Fixing a broken window, building a fence, planting trees, or tending a garden; if it were work and it paid, he wouldn’t let his pride get in the way. They depended on him and he wasn’t the type to let anyone down. 

One night he came home after spending the day doing whatever was necessary to make ends meet. He sat down and enjoyed a nice dinner with his wife and only child. They laughed, talked, and loved. They didn’t have much, but they had each other and in the words of my father, “that was enough.” It was getting late, so my grandmother began clearing the table, cleaning their small kitchen, and preparing the family for the next day. While she did that, the men of the house sat and talked. They talked as only a father and son could do … and then there was a pause.

“Got some good news I want to share with you son!”

With that he reached into his pocked and pulled out a letter. Turns out my father had been drafted into the military meaning he was about to leave the only home he’d ever known. After reading it, he placed the letter on the table, he looked up and their eyes locked. After a few more moments of silence, my grandfather extended his hand, smiled, and approvingly uttered three simple words.

“Son … you’re up…”

***

Exactly one year ago, the three of us were together in a hospital room. The three of us, my father resting in a bed, me in a chair by his side … and God watching over the both of us. I spent most of the day there, arriving early for what I knew was to be his last day in this earthly home. Our hearts spoke to one another. Our hearts laughed and loved as only hearts can do. It started to get late and the time came for me head home. So, I leaned over and said the final few words, the last words I’d speak to him on this side of life before leaving those two alone.

In the year that has passed, I’ve imagined how their conversation went once I left the room. In my minds eye and through the ear of my heart, I hear them talking about secrets the two of them held. I can just hear my father relaying all the times he was afraid, wondering how we would make it day to day once his beloved Lamona left. I see God smiling and assuredly nodding his head in approval, saying he understood.

“You got up every morning and you kept getting up Mr. P. You were faithful and you never stopped believing in me.”

Things didn’t always go right and many times, my father wanted to quit, throw in the towel, and just walk away. So, so many times I remember seeing him on the verge of giving up. That night, I imagine he looked over at God, asking if he remembered those times.

“I do. I remember all those times, each and every one of them. Let me tell you Mr. P, I loved the way you always sat down with me and we worked through those challenges. You didn’t have the answers, but you trusted that I did. I can’t begin to tell you how much putting your trust in me warmed my heart.”

I can hear the conversation shifting with my father lamenting the mistakes he made in life. As a parent, a husband, and a man. He tried, but we all fall short. With him, he often wore those times when he fell short on his sleeve.

“You do know you were forgiven of those things, right? The moment you asked for forgiveness it was granted, so no need to continue carrying those burdens.”

I imagine there being a pause after that exchange with God taking over from there.

“Got some good news I want to share with you Mr. P!”

“You’re going to make me better, aren’t you? I’m about to walk out of here, I knew it! I just knew it!”

“My plans for you are much greater than that”, said the Lord.

At that moment I imagine the room shining brightly, lit up with love. Their eyes lock and then I see God extending his hand, smiling, and approvingly uttering three simple words.

“Son … you’re up…”

***

Love and miss you.