It’s almost been a year since Dad has passed and I still have a hard time finding any words at times to express my thoughts on it.  On this Easter, one year ago, I remember that by the time service started, Dad was still not there.  He was often late, but not this late.  And for a man like Dad, who had made it to church almost every week during his trial with cancer, I knew his body was not just temporarily weak, slow and struggling that day.  He had not made it to church on Easter and that indicated to me how serious it was, how close his time was coming.  As I celebrate this Easter and remember Dad, I am so truthfully grateful that Jesus died on the cross for all our sins and conquered death.  Jesus is not dead, but he has risen. And because of that, I have hope of being with God face to face. I have hope of seeing Dad again. Amen.  Missing my dad even on the sweetest days of celebration.

 

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