“I miss her, God.” I imagine he started most mornings that way. (This was her calendar. She went to the hospital on April 14th, and didn’t come home. Other artifacts of his longing stay untouched in the house.)
“I know, Gene, but there are some hungry folks that will see me when you give them food, and I made you to grow some really good butter beans.” “OK. I love my garden. I can do that…” He smiles in his garden, and folks see Jesus.
“God, do you remember that I miss her?” “Yes, Gene, I remember. But you could make me a Conestoga wagon for vacation bible school, and little kids will see Me in that wagon.” “Well, God, you know I like building things, and I love those kids.” And they see Jesus in a Conestoga wagon.
“Good morning, God. You know…” “I sure do, Gene, but those boys over there are fatherless. You know how to be a man, and they’ll know too, if you stay.” And he shows them what it is to be a man, and they see Jesus.
“Good morning, God. I really miss her.” “Well, your daughters will be able to honor their father if you let them nurse you back.” And his daughters see Jesus, and become more like Him as they care for their father.
“Gene! I’m sending your grandson to you. He’s married a beautiful girl, and you can show them how much you love them!” “I do love that boy, Lord. I’ll stay around for them.”
Gene emailed his daughters last week: “Four of my kids are being baptized this Sunday! We got four more!”
“You miss her, don’t you Gene?” “Yes, God, you know I do.”
“Come on home, then. This is a good morning to come home.”
We grieve, but not like those who have no hope.