Though we'd developed the habit of sitting like lumps in cold folding chairs amid an ever growing silence (even though we all knew the answers)--you somehow managed to beckon us toward the marvels of God's work in our world. We were a pack of disparate teens enduring the motions of Sunday school, but you showed us something more and for a bit each Sunday morning, we walked the road together.
Perhaps it was your kindness that eased us--reassured us enough to reject our careful squints and grow wide-eyed again. Your kindness was always there--on trips home from college, and even afterwords when I visited the country church again. You showed me you really did care after my own dad was called home. And now that you are gone, I ache for your family--and yes, even for myself. You are missed, and you always will be missed, until we join you in the place where all kinds of divisions are no more.
"'Till we meet, 'till we meet, 'till we meet at Jesus' feet/ 'Till we meet, 'till we meet, God be with you 'till we meet again."
That is so special you got to have him as a Sunday school teacher.
ReplyDeleteAnd you nailed the Sunday school experience at Checkrow. Your writing took me right back.
Thank you for writing this. What a loss for the community. But it is effortless to picture him there with the Lord, in unspeakable glory. Praise God for our blessed hope.
Thanks, Lindsay. Greg was such a blessing to so many of us!
ReplyDeletetears....thank you
ReplyDeleteErin, the full influence of a man like your dad can't be caught in words, but I'm glad mine blessed you. Love and prayers for you and yours through this journey.
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