My Pop

My father was strong and hard working. He was a family man who enjoyed his home and family. He was home at regular times after a hard day of labor. Usually he would talk about his day at the dinner table and fall asleep reading the evening paper. When I think of my Pop I think of hard work and faithfulness. He was quiet around me. When I was stricken with cancer, he came to my bed, getting the blessings from his Jewish boss to be with me. I asked him why he never said he loved me. He loved me but didn't know how to show it. I had been touched by the Lord and told him I loved him. He returned the words to me. I saw in the days following the tender side of my dads heart. This strong man with hands calloused from hard labor, became soft in heart. He told me that Jesus held me in his arms. I made it through the illness, God healed me and he healed my dads heart. He became a church going man, dressed in a fine suit, a deacon who served communion each Sunday and loved to visit folks to encourage them. After retirement he moved to a ranch and I saw that he was a gifted rancher. He had his mothers ranch in the depression, from Arkansas to California. A hard time he had. I was born in California. He loved the ranch, grew a large garden had a herd of cattle and was very fruitful in his old age, yes still a deacon at the new church. He grew old and lost his memory of us all. He remembered the past, but not the present. When mom died we had to put him on a nursing home. He was too big to lift but we brought him to church and he had tears listening to the praise music. He died but not really. For he went to Jesus, that big strong man with calloused hands, in the hands of the nail scarred man. Our Lord Jesus embraced dad and welcomed him home. Be with you soon Pop.