Listen, Dad,God sees you, he knows what’s happened, he knows you.He knows when you sit and when you sleep.He knows your tangled thoughts; he knows them straight.He knows when you’re not here and where you are when you’re gone. He knows your ways.Before your words are lost before they get to your tongue, he knows what you were about to say, what you meant. He knows you.There’s nowhere you can go, Dad, where God won’t go with you, where God’s Spirit won’t comfort you, can’t hold you.As your light turns to night, even this darkness won’t hide you.God sees you clearly because dark is light to him. He’ll go with you.And he thinks of you, Dad, often.The number of times, the many ways God cares for you, if we tried to count them, would outnumber sand on a beach.So you can rest easy, while I count. I’m counting Mom’s tears. I’m counting the slights, the indignities, the affronts to your good pride. I’m counting the frayed edges, the missing pieces of your lost person.But we’ll get through this, Dad, because when you awake—everyday and someday—you will be with him.And someday I too will awake with him, with you. —Richard J. DeWaard
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