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Charles Swindoll once said of his father:


My dad died last night. He left like he had lived. Quietly. Graciously. With dignity. Without demands or harsh words or even a frown. He surrendered himself into the waiting arms of his Savior. As I stroked his hair from his forehead and kissed him goodbye, a hundred boyhood memories played around in my head.

--When I learned to ride a bike, he was there.

--When I wrestled with the multiplication table, his quick wit erased the hassle.

--When I discovered the adventure of driving a car, he was near, encouraging me.

--When I got my first job (delivering newspapers), he informed me how to increase my subscriptions and win a prize. And it worked!

--When I mentioned a young woman I had fallen in love with, he pulled me aside and talked straight about being responsible for her welfare and happiness.

--When I did a hitch in the Marines, the discipline I had learned from him made the transition easier.

Last night I said goodbye. I’m still trying to believe it.”


Steve Shepherd, Father’s Day 2001, a sermon found on SermonCentral.com.