Channeling Dad During the Mission Project

I didn't really know what to expect, but I felt a voice whispering in my ear that I should go on a mission trip. The voice has gotten louder over the years until it became too loud to ignore this year.

Here I am, Lord.

Is it I, Lord?

I have heard you calling in the night.

I will go, Lord.

If you lead me.

I will hold your people in my heart.

And so goes the hymn. 

Thirty-three of us traveled from New Jersey and Pennsylvania to Farmington, Maine to work with MATE (Mission At The Eastward) as an intergenerational mission team.

Another voice I heard in my head was my dad's. Before anyone worries, he is still alive. His voice was crystal clear as we waited an hour until we were given our orders for the day. In my head he said it's the hurry up and wait game. 

Yup, dad, hurry up and wait. We had to rouse at 6:30 am to have breakfast at 7:15 am to meet in the lobby at 8:45 am to be at the church at 9 am. We thought we were driving someplace, only to find out our half of the group was to stay put and pull weeds and scrape paint. The other half drove to a different site to do carpentry and install cabinets. I.e., non-skilled vs. skilled labor groups.

The next time he reached out to me was as I was on the scraping paint part of the project. I was reminded that each summer, growing up in Paramus dad scraped the paint on the wood siding. The house that saw the most sun was painted annually. The other three sides were painted on a rotating basis. Or so I remember.

I don't remember him ever inviting us to join him to scrape the house -- a skill at that moment I wished he had imparted. We live in a house with aluminum siding that has never needed to be scraped. 

On the other side of the property we also pulled weeds -- a task I procrastinate for as long as possible at home. Another task dad used to do. I could hear him say: make sure you get the roots.

Thought of him as we scraped paint off the 1920's house. Tomorrow some of us will paint the house. Not sure what my group will do, but we know it will be useful.

Before I even left he said don't forget your poncho. I commented there was no rain in the forecast. He said it will rain. Wouldn't you know it, it rained and the poncho was back in the room! 

I wonder what advice he'll stick into my head next.

~~~

I wrote this on Monday night. Tuesday he was rushed in for emergency surgery. He was stable on Tuesday night. He was stable when my mom checked in at 6 am on Wednesday. A half an hour later he coded, was revived. I was told at 6:53 am to drive home. As I was driving home Don called to tell me dad passed away surrounded by family.

More dad-isms bounced around my head:

On a long highway drive, get behind a truck and let him lead the pace.

Always bring a book, because you don't know how long mom will be (or how long you'll have to wait).

The funeral will be Friday, July 24 at Allentown Presbyterian Church followed by internment in Paramus. We will be hosting two informal gatherings to honor dad that weekend. The first will be at our house on Saturday from 3 to 6, the second on Sunday at my mom's house also from 3 to 6. The obituary. Reach out if you want our addresses.