We get the local paper every morning. My husband, who doesn't have time to read it in the morning, leaves it for me in the same spot on the kitchen table every day. It beckons to me with it's freshly printed, nicely folded pages and catchy headlines inviting me to read the stories below. I succumb but not before scrambling an egg, toasting my bread and pouring myself an unsweetened glass of tea.
I never start with the front page...too much bad news too soon. So I head for the local section then on to the pages that contains my favorite part of the newspaper, the comic strips! Before diving in to the big news articles, I gingerly turn to the obituaries, the ultimate in bad news.
For the most part, I usually know when someone has passed away before it makes the paper, but there have been a few times when I've been shocked and surprised to see the picture of an old acquaintance. You'd think with my aversion to bad news I wouldn't even venture to that section. What draws me is a fascination with the words used to honor those who have passed away. Having written two obituaries myself I've decided a few columns of verbiage only give the reader a slight window into the heart of the individual being grieved.
Perhaps I'm alone in this, but I want to read more than a list of accomplishments. I find myself reading between the lines looking for a clue that will tell me about the character of the one whose picture speaks of happier times. In other words, I wonder, besides the laundry list of jobs and awards what the deceased left to those left behind, and I'm not talking about money or things.
Back in January, I was able to accompany my husband to Thailand to attend a conference at which he was the speaker. Toward the end of the week we attended a dinner for those who were involved in the week long symposium. At our table were men and women with an obvious love for the Lord and a passion for spreading the Gospel. Several of the men in attendance were successful professionals hailing for all over the globe. Men who generously offered their resources and expertise to the organization that hosted the event.
During dinner I had an interesting discussion with one gentleman about his family. Without much provocation on my part, he went from telling me general information about his family to asking me, in a round about way, if I thought he was doing a good job as a Dad. Quite a deep question.
Apparently, both this gentleman's children are exceptional in tennis. So talented, he and his wife set up a home in another state to allow their kids an opportunity to be a part of an intensive training program to further develop their skill. His wife lives with the children and he sees them every two to three weeks.
By sharing his angst with me, a virtual stranger, it was clear he was experiencing a great deal of turmoil regarding this arrangement. Since he opened the door, I gingerly stepped through it and asked him if there was anything he could do to change the situation, to which he quickly replied, "I've worked hard to get where I am. And as a result my kids have this great chance to receive outstanding training." But just as quickly, with eyes downcast, he quietly said, "I wonder if it's the right thing. I don't get to spend much time with them and I feel like I'm missing out on knowing who they are right now."
I had just met the man and didn't think it was appropriate to give my sage advice at that time, in that setting. So, instead, I gave him what I hoped was a warm smile of encouragement and with that the conversation ended. That one exchange has stuck with me and led me to ponder what really is important to kids?
Throughout our ministry, I have had countless opportunities to talk with folks about their families and more often than not, the subject of their family of origin comes up. Some of the stories I've heard have been wonderful and heartwarming. Others have broken my heart.
What I've come away with is that kids of all ages want their parents to be a solid, safe place. They want parents who are men and women of good character because good character in Mom and Dad means a foundation on which they can model their own lives.
Spending time with family is huge but it's so much more than simply time. It's about substance. The man at dinner was worried about time when he should have been concerned with substance and character. His children will probably be thankful for the incredible chance they had to be more proficient in tennis. However, will being away from their Dad physically, emotionally and spiritually cause them to wish for what our hearts long for from our own earthly parents?Deep, soul-satisfying connection?
Some day my dinner companion's children are going to be faced with the task of writing their father's obituary. What will they say? What will they treasure in their hearts for the rest of their days? For that matter, what will my kids write about me?
