Dad, I know you can do it. You may doubt yourself or maybe even wonder if the effort is worth the trouble. I am not sure if my opinion counts or not, but I think it’s worth the trouble. I know life is long here on earth, yet compared to eternity, it’s just the blink of an eye. So before this eye blinks again, do what you can. You’re my dad. I don’t have another one, and I want this one functioning at his best for as long as he is able. I know that may be selfish of me but I am human.
I have seen you at your best. When all systems are go and all engines are firing. I remember. You’re not as far from that time as you might think. I know not everything is a matter of choice, but a lot really is. I have heard a lot of preachers over the years and you are still my favorite. You were meant to preach, to use that wildly humorous, imaginative mind of yours to its fullest. I know you aren’t preaching anymore, but the mind that poured over notes and scriptures to compose an artfully delivered sermon week after week is still there.
I worry about you dad. I am just going out on a limb here and delivering a written pep talk of sorts. I love you dad. If I can help, please let me know how. If I have to get after you and push you to be the best you can be, I will. You were driven to deliver to your family and your congregation for many, many years. Now we are both. I thoroughly enjoyed chatting with you the other day, out in the yard, in the warm autumn air, with nothing to do but enjoy one another’s company. I want more of those moments for you, for me, for the entire family.
It feels to me that if you give in on a challenge now it will be easier to give in the next time too. Some of these challenges can be overcome and doing so would improve your well-being. With each win, you are closer to overcoming yet another challenge. You and I both know that God has a plan for you. What if His plan is to keep you here on earth ministering with your words and by your example for the next 25 years? Are you ready for that? I am.
We all know you have been through a lot with your health in recent years. It’s not easy to pick yourself up each day and rise to the heights of the day, week, year, or decade before, it’s not impossible either. You still have tools in your belt. Which I know is a bad analogy because none of us know how to use any tools, but onward we go. When one thing is taken away, it does not define you. It’s just you, with one thing taken away, and chances are you have something else to offer that had otherwise been hidden. Do you think your ability to ‘shoot the lights out’ on the basketball court came without going through the trouble of taking time to shoot those thousands of shots? Were the sermons you preached, that touched the hearts of thousands, worth the trouble of the tens of thousands of hours it took to prepare them? I think you and I also know that both these things were worth the trouble to you.
So now we stare down an obstacle on the road to recovery. What next? My worry is that this obstacle seems mildly insignificant to you, and letting this go will just make the road harder to traverse. It will make the next obstacle easier to slow you down. Not to sound morbid here, and I know your heavenly home awaits, but our days are numbered, and wouldn’t you rather hit the finish line running?
Let’s work at this dad. Leave no stone unturned. I want to see that sly grin and hear your comical remarks for years to come. You have grandchildren who might seem busy or caught up in other things, but I know they all want you at your best for as long as you can put the effort in. I am glad to see you every single time I do. I love you dad, and I will finish this with; Dad, I know you can.