11.23.08
Dawna’s Dad
So many of you have written, called, or told me in person that
you’re praying for Dawna’s dad. We both can only say a heart-
felt thank you. I want to write a few things about him.
Dawna’s dad, my father-in-law, is a man of God. He began as
a pastor, self-taught, at the age of 17. That was 70 years ago,
Through the years he saw three churches planted, and at least
two of them have grown to be large congregations.
Perhaps five minutes into our first meeting, I came to love this
man. His name is Raymond “Dick” Dickens, and yes, he is a direct
descendant of Charles Dickens. He’s one man - among others,
to be sure - that I came to meet only late in their lives, that I
sure wish I’d have known years before. I could have learned so
much from Raymond. When we’ve been together, he only wants
to talk about a few things, and they rarely vary. He loves his
only daughter, and believe me, she loves him. He delights in the
tales of bouncing her on his knee, his favorite break from study.
He loves to tell me about Dawna as a student, a daughter, and
a best friend once they were both adults. Once he tells me the
same stories that I’ve heard before, (but never tire of) his con-
versation almost inevitably turns to the Lord…His goodness in
all of his life, the honor of serving Him, and the delights of Heaven.
Every time we’ve left his room, he’s called out the same things -
“Stay close to Jesus”, he’ll shout, followed by “There’s nothing
in the world like serving Him, remember that!” When I say that
he shouts it, I’m not exaggerating. The dear man is really deaf,
and usually I have to tell Dawna the things I want her to then
repeat to him. A real disadvantage, being soft-spoken, when
you’re trying to talk to Raymond.
And now, after a life lived for his Master, Raymond, or as I’ve
come to call him, “Dad”, is very near to Heaven. My heart is
heavy. I need to be here in Myrtle Beach, but a big part of
my heart is in that room outside of Houston. Dawna told me
this evening that she spent much of the morning with him,
but that he was unresponsive, and that while he tried, he
wasn’t able to say anything back to her. Congestive heart
failure, diabetes, and some other ailments, have begun to
shut his body down. The hospice team believes that his kid-
neys have begun the process of closing down, and that
when that happens, usually in a week or ten days, death
will come. And so, once again, from afar, I find myself in
that dilemma that overtakes a believer when someone you
love is close to the shores of Heaven.
I never met my first father-in-law, Carl Aspenson. Before
I married his first of nine children, Carol’s Dad had died in a
very tragic farming accident. I’d heard nothing but wonder-
ful comments about him, and likewise also always regretted
not knowing him. And now, after so relatively few months
of finally knowing a father-in-law, I’m about to lose him, in
that temporary sense that our faith demands. I had to say
goodbye to my Dad in February of 2005, as most of you
know, just 24 days before Carol died. Every day I live, I
miss my Dad. Every day. Each day brings something that
I ache to share with Dad. Every week, it seems, there will
be some situation arise where I’d give almost anything to
get another taste of his balanced wisdom. But for him, as
for Carol, all of our loved ones who died “in Christ”, and
every believer who has fallen asleep in Jesus, life for them
is now that “far better”. In a real sense, they’re all the
lucky ones, aren’t they?
And so, likely soon, the Heavenly choir will get their notes,
and begin to sing the welcome home melody for another of
my Dads. I believe that all of Heaven will rise to give a
gentleman’s welcome to a foot soldier who ran a very good
race. Waiting to greet him, and waiting on earth until it’s
their turn, will be a large company of people who heard
and obeyed the Gospel when the wonderful feet of Ray-
mond Dickens brought the Gospel to them. The day is not
far distant when a “Well Done! will echo for a great man,
who will then be able to hear even a whisper.
And I will miss him. More than I could imagine, given how
I’ve only known him for a year and a half. And if I’ll miss
him, I can’t imagine how hard it will be on Dawna. Well,
actually, I can.
It’s at times like these, and we’ve mostly all been there,
that we savor the words of Paul…how that we sorrow
not as others devoid of hope. Our hearts are pulled yet
again towards the reality of a day coming when the dead
in Christ will rise first, and then we who are alive and re-
main will rise to meet the Savior in the air, so to be for-
ever with the Lord. We thrill at His promise, “If I go away,
I will come again…”
And so, I write sitting in my chair in SC, wishing that I
could be in a room outside of Houston, TX, giving one
last hug to a man that I love, whispering to him that my
few months of knowing him have enriched me forever.
So I’ll whisper them here. “Bye, Dad Raymond. Morning
will come, and we’ll all be together again when dawn
breaks, and earth’s hard shadows are blissfully behind
us. Thank you for raising one amazing and loving girl,
who in two ways, is so much like her (F)father. I love
you. These tears are only temporary…too much loss in
too few years. But, these tears are really your fault.
You earned them, cause I couldn’t not come to love
you. Soon, you’ll eternally stay close to Jesus, and it’s
where you’ve always longed to be. Farewell, good and
faithful servant.”
Until the day comes, and afterward, please remember
Dawna and her family in your prayers, will you?
We give you our deepest thanks….
Alan
and I can both process and remem-