A Series from My Mind’s Eye: Part six

To my family: This is how my mind remembers. If you remember these moments differently, please, don’t tell me. I want these precious images to stay “mine”.

1 This is my Father’s world,
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world:
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas–
His hand the wonders wrought.

2 This is my Father’s world:
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white,
Declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world:
He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass, I hear Him pass,
He speaks to me everywhere.

3 This is my Father’s world:
O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the Ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world:
Why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King: let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let earth be glad!  ~Maltbie Davenport Babcock

The Funeral~ Within the days following my father’s death (I don’t remember the duration of time within these events), once again, we all had to dress up. Then, this “totally wicked” car came to pick us up to go for a ride. It was a “limo”. There were seats that pulled out of the seats in front (think Murphy bed). I was so excited because I got to sit on a seat that faced backwards.

This wonderful car took us up into the cemetery. We all climbed out and walked to the grave site. We had to sit and be still. People were crying. The flowers on Daddy’s “Bed” were so pretty. Someone explained that Daddy would be staying here. He wouldn’t be coming home with us. I couldn’t comprehend why this was going to happen.

We climbed back into the car. It was explained that we would be going to church, and that we all needed to be very good, and quiet. I was busy wondering why we had to go to church now. Because Pastor had just talked to us. Eventually, at the church, my mother took my hand and led us down the isle… to the very front. As I walked, I noticed all the people looking, staring as we passed. It was such a creepy feeling.

The Hymn, This Is My Father’s World. I know it was one of the hymns sung. I don’t actually remember singing it that day. But I would cry every time it was played afterwards. For the longest time I thought this song was… about MY father. Rocks and trees, of skies and seas… Birds and lilies… All the beautiful things my Daddy loved. When I was old enough to comprehend Who the song was really about, it was actually a bit of a let down. I hadn’t yet formed a personal relationship with God. I would stand in church and sing, only to feel anger rising at God for taking my Daddy. Now the joy I feel, when I sing the last verse, is liberating. I still cry. A little bit for missing my Daddy. A lot for the love I have for my Daddy and my God.




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