By LuAnn Edwards
“I will never go to church with you again,” said Dad. “Those people are crazy!” He meant it too.
My soon-to-be husband sang in a Southern Gospel quartet and the group was singing at a church near our home one Saturday evening. My mom and I thought this would be a good opportunity to invite Dad to church with us. Surely he would want to hear Ken sing. He loved music and with all of us working hard to persuade him, he caved and agreed to go with us.
Dad enjoyed the singing, but the rest of the service was a little too much for him. An older gentleman got up to preach a little and held up a newborn baby with one hand as he walked back and forth at the front of the church. I think Dad thought the preacher might drop the baby.
Even though Dad said he wouldn’t go again, the following morning he was dressed and ready to go to church with Mom and me. Mom and I had accepted the Lord into our hearts the previous year and had been praying for Dad. Even though he thought the people at the other church were crazy and didn’t want to ever go to church again, the Lord had other plans.
Once Dad accepted the Lord and started attending church, he didn’t stop. In fact, when he retired from his regular job, the church became the place where he spent his days volunteering, doing everything he could do to serve the Lord. He served as the church’s clerk and in other capacities for many years, and he took to heart Psalm 100:2 “Worship the Lord with gladness…”
My earliest memory of him was sitting in his lap as a young child combing his hair. As I grew older, I remember him dancing and singing around the house and acting very silly at times. I’m sure I didn’t think he was all that funny as a teenager, but as an adult, I loved his enthusiasm for life.
Dad modeled how a man should treat his wife. He loved Mom and honored her daily. He teased her a lot, but she played along. He was open with his affection and took care of her throughout her life.
Dad loved to tell stories about being in the Army and about the people he had worked with over the years. His eyes would twinkle, and his smile would brighten my day as he laughed at things he had shared with us many times before.
In his sixties he took part in a video skit with his church’s music department. Dad was not a great singer, but he liked to have fun. The skit ended with four men singing a song called “Moving on up to Glory.” The song was beautiful! However, they weren’t really singing; it was a recording of the Cathedral Quartet. Dad and the other men were just lip syncing but it appeared that these four tone-deaf men had become an overnight success. It was this song that was playing in the background when Dad took his final breath. He moved on up to Glory to dance and praise the Lord as I held his hand and rubbed his hair five years ago. I miss you Daddy!
Let them praise his name with dancing and make music to him with tambourine and harp” (Psalm 149:3).