James T Bolding (1935-2024)
January 13, 2024 11:25PM
My daddy stirred me from a restless slumber, his voice clear in the still darkness of the night. “Sweetheart, are you there?”
Dad only called me that when we were alone and he was emotional. I snapped awake. “I’m here, Daddy. What’s wrong?”
I could hear my husband’s heavy breath of sleep next to me, and I knew my father was in the hospital. This was no normal intercessory experience. My heart began to pound in my ears. “Dad?”
“I’m scared, Renee.” A small sob stopped his words and he sniffed. “There’s a Man here. And He wants me to take His hand. Is it… who is He?”
The hope slipping through the fear grabbed at my heart. Dad was a new Christian in many ways. “The Man is Jesus, Daddy. It’s all right to take His Hand. He wants to take you to heaven now.”
“But I can’t go.” Panic streaked through Dad’s voice. “I need to take care of your mom! Who will take care of her if I’m not here, honey?”
“Shhhh…” I soothed him as much as I could across the distance. “Mom will never be alone. Don’t worry about Mom. She will be well taken care of and will join you in the blink of an eye. We all will. Time in heaven is not the same as down here, Daddy. And think about it— you will be able to play your piano and pipe organ for God and the angels, Grandma, Grandpa, and your brothers! Jesus wants to take you where there is no more pain and only joy. Go with Him, Dad. We will take care of everything down here. It’s our turn now.”
A small sigh whispered through the night. “Okay, baby. See you soon. I love you.”
“I love you, Daddy!” But he was already gone.
——————————-
I jerked awake and looked at the clock. It was 11:08PM. I slammed my eyes shut, and tears squeezed from between my eyelids. I buried wrenching sobs in my pillow as to not wake anyone. “Bye, bye, Daddy…”
I knew my father was gone. No longer on this earth. Next would come a soul-rending phone call from my mother, and I needed to be strong.
That night, she’d asked to be alone with her husband of 62 years, or I would dash to the hospital that moment. No, I would honor her request. For now, I closed my eyes and waited, praying and thanking my Jesus for guiding my father home.
The phone rang twenty-three minutes later.
Thankful always,
Renee Blare
Renee Blare Christian Author 