One Small Gesture

This past weekend, my husband and I went to a funeral service for a very dear man.
This man was bigger than life.
He truly was the epitome of those words.
He was a large man in height and presence.

He was a deacon at our former church.
I can still see him in the pew where he usually sat.
He always sat with his wife by his side.
He had three children: a son, a daughter, and another son.

To them he was truly, Dad.
It was a name, which held him in high honor and was said with much respect.
He was Grandpa as well to seven grandchildren.
How they loved him.

He was a master of costumes at the church’s Trunk or Treat events.
He was a formidable pirate, with his friend remembering his classic, Arrr!
He was an engineer, which made him relatable to my husband.
Engineers just seem to understand one another.

Even more than Dad, Grandpa, and friend, he was a husband.
He loved his wife of almost 52 years.
I heard the story of how they met, how her mother saw him at the store where he worked.
How her mother sent her to the store to get needed items so they would “happen to” meet.

As his friend told us during the eulogy, her mother’s plan worked.
He thought she was cute and he wanted to get to know her.
He was in college at the time and soon they began dating.
They were married and the rest is history.

The funeral service honored him well.
He will be missed by his family and all who knew and loved him.
He taught Sunday school, so there will be a void with him gone.
More than anything else, He loved the Lord and served Him his entire life.

There is such Hope when a person dies in Christ.
His family knows, without a doubt, that they will see him again.
That is a great comfort.
There is no wondering, only surety and peace.

Something touched me deeply during his funeral service.
It was something so visibly small but so incredibly meaningful.
From where I was sitting, I had a clear view.
What I witnessed touched my heart.

All his children were sitting in the front row next to their mother.
The spouses of two of his three children sat in the row behind them.
Only his daughter’s husband sat next to her in the front row.
I am sure he sat there to be physically present for his wife.

The youngest of his children, a son, was visibly upset during one of the worship songs.
This tall young man was struggling, with his shoulders moving as he tried to gain composure.
I was a few rows behind him and my throat tightened as I saw him.
I prayed for him, knowing how very hard this was on him and the entire family.

His wife, sitting behind him, was holding their infant son.
She reached over, with her free arm, and put her hand on his shoulder.
I’m here. You’re not alone.
It was the sweetest gesture and I could immediately see his shoulders relax.

She held their son in one arm and kept her hand on the shoulder of her grieving husband.
He turned to her and reached for his son.
She handed the baby to him.
He buried his face into his son, who was laying against his shoulder, and cried.

I imagined what he was thinking, though I have no way of knowing.
He was held by his dad just like this not so long ago.
His dad would not see this little grandson grow up.
He missed his dad even more now that he was a dad himself.

A wife knows.
Without seeing her husband’s face, she knew he needed her.
Her gesture was so small and yet conveyed such love and support.
Handing their son to him was significant: this is hard but life goes on through the generations.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. (Revelation 21:4)

One small, loving act.
A family cemented in their love for God and each other.
Going forward without the patriarch of their family will be difficult.
But this larger than life man is not suffering any more; he is whole and he is with the Lord.

That is a blessing.
Come Lord Jesus, come.