"Lead Me Gently Home..."

    "He...shall gently lead those that are with young." Isaiah 40:11

     Today's offering is another "homegrown" story. It's another "treasure" in my earthen vessel. I hope you enjoy it and my prayer, as always, is that it edifies your faith.
     I guess if you analyzed it, my Dad's faith was best shown by his strong sense of duty. Daddy was a faithful  man. That was the one trait that stood out above all others in his character. The best way for me to illustrate this is by telling you about his funeral.
     We had a closed coffin because of the circumstances of his death, (See The Angel From Arkansas) and on top of that coffin we placed two symbols of his life. One was a floppy, old, sweat-stained, Stetson hat and the other his old, dogeared Bible which had the cover re-glued, upside down. These two items, the hat and the bible, pretty much summed up his life of work and faith.
      Daddy died of a heat stroke while collecting honey. He fell dead in the middle of an intolerably hot, summer day in central Texas. We found him in the field behind the same Baptist church where he had worked and worshipped for a good portion of his life.
     Ted preached his funeral sermon. In that sermon he told the story of Daddy's conversion to Christ. As I listened to the familiar story, I suddenly realized the roots and reason for Daddy's faithfulness.
     Daddy had lived a pretty wild, raucous youth...drinking, gambling and carousing for many years. Then in 1925 he married my mother and bought a small farm north of Riesel, Texas in a little place called Perry.
     One summer day he was plowing his field, a mile or so from their farm with a single plow pulled by a mule. He'd been clearing the field of stumps and stones so a crop could be planted. It was hard work and the hard, dusty, dry soil made plowing bumpy and jerky. After a struggle, he finally got the mule going at a pretty good pace in the right direction. Suddenly his plow hit a buried tree root. Daddy's body went flying over the top of it and when he landed on the other side he hit his head on something, perhaps a rock, he never really knew for sure, but it knocked him out. He didn't know how long he'd laid there when  he came to with a bad headache and discovered that he was totally blind! He rubbed his eyes and strained to see, but to no avail so he began yelling for help. In his panic he stood and stumbled a few paces, then fell over something else. After that he laid still, afraid to move again.
     It was very hot, well into the hundreds and he was flat on his face in the dirt and at least a mile from the nearest house. He experienced fear like he'd never known before. He was as blind as a bat, in terrible pain and not sure how he was going to get home. Added to that, it was about noon and the hot Texas sun was beating down on him. He also knew that no one would think to look for him until after dark and during those summer days, dark may not come until almost ten p.m. I could be dead by then, he reasoned. He listened for his mule but couldn't hear a living thing around him. "Fool mule, he's probably in the barn eating hey by now!"
     When he heard the sound of his own voice he kept talking. Somehow it seemed to calm him and slow down his paniced gasping for breath. To his surprise he found himself praying. He hadn't really prayed since he was a little boy but it seemed appropriate now. He said, "Lord, here I am in trouble. I know I'm a miserable sinner and not worthy to ask You for anything, but if you could restore my sight so I can get home, I'll serve You for the rest of my life. I'll go to church on Sunday and every Sunday after that for as long as I live!" He told me once that it never occurred to him that God would be "coming up short" on that deal. But at that time, that was about as humble as he could get.
     He said that as he prayed, light began seeping into the corner of his eyes and ever so slowly, it pushed away the darkness. He squinted in the bright sunlight until he could open his eyes completely. To his great relief he could see again. After a few minutes he examined himself, got his bearings and walked the long trek home. 
     From that moment on he was a faithful, duty bound Christian. As far as I know he never missed a church service. I don't even remember his ever being sick on Sunday. He went to prayer meetings, evening services, Sunday School, Baptist Brotherhood, and any other meeting offered by his church.  During Daddy's lifetime he served as church janitor, yardman, teacher and prayer partner. His commitment never wavered. When we were on vacation he'd find a church for us to visit. He used to say, "You can't take a vacation from church."
     One of my greatest memories is of him kneeling by his bedside each night before he went to bed. He would pray for people by name...our family, his neighbors, the pastor, the President, the country and any pressing need we may have had at the time and then he'd end his prayers with, "...and Lord, bless all those for whom it is my duty to pray for." There was that word...duty. It both motivated and characterized his life.
     The Air Force G.I.'s used to say, "I've got the duty tonight." and we all knew what that meant. It meant that they had guard duty, the responsibility to guard some place or equipment. No one was allowed to sleep on duty. They had to remain vigilant and awake so that whatever had been entrusted to them would be safe.  That is what my dad understood about being a Christian. From the time of that prayer in the dusty field, he had the duty  for Christ.
     At age seventy-two, Daddy collapsed in another dusty, Texas, field and died of a heat stroke. Ted ended his sermon with those words, then continued, "This time as darkness engulfed him, the light didn't creep into the corner of his eyes, in the way that it had so many years before, instead it burst upon him suddenly and he saw clearly...immediately, the face of his Savior, Jesus Christ. Now he could rest from his duty and this time he didn't have to walk the long trek home, because he was already there."
     During the funeral service, the congregation closed by singing Daddy's favorite hymn. It was Lead Me Gently Home. I'm including it here because like his life and his death, it defined him.

"Lead me gently home, Father.

Lead me gently home. 

When life's toils have ended

and parting days have come.

Sin no more shall temp me,

Ne're from Thee I'll roam.

If Thou wilt only lead me, Father

Lead me gently home.

Chorus:

Lead me gently home, Father

Lead me gently home.

 Lest I fall upon the wayside, 

Lead me gently home."