Read by Gary Knox at David W. Lee’s Funeral
11-8-13
As you can imagine, it’s a challenge to write appropriate
admiration for a great father, and keep it within a few minutes for someone to
read. That is what I’ll attempt. Since we are into the month of November, with
the celebration of Thanksgiving on the horizon, I’ll honor my dad through
giving thanks.
Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to gather here
to honor my dad. By the grace of God his impact in the lives of his children,
family members, ministries, and people for whom he prayed, is deserving of
commemoration.
Thanks to my wife, Sarah, for giving me the nudges and the
freedom I needed to leave for Kentucky on Friday morning, a week ago. It was a
blessing to have people from our church’s small group take care of the girls
and for one of Sarah’s clients to take Jace to his first basketball practice,
while Sarah worked a half day on Saturday. Upon arrival, I hoped that dad would
heal from the pneumonia in his lungs and miraculously revive for a great
Christmas with my kids and the rest of our family before his passing, so I
stayed obnoxiously positive. In the evening, mother shared with me that it was
no longer pneumonia, but the cancer and disease was taking over his lungs. On
Friday, after praying with my mom in her room, I remember praying for God to
take dad and be merciful to him. Grief started to roll in with force at that
point. Saturday morning I told him, “Dad, we aren’t holding on to you anymore.
You are free to go, even though we’d love to have you healthy.” By Saturday
afternoon they had decided to move him into hospice and his condition continued
to decline. Sunday morning, about 8:40 a.m. we got a call from Esther, my
sister, that she had been called by hospice to get to the hospital. While in
route, enjoying the beautiful KY morning with black angus cows in the fields
and leaves in full Fall colors, Esther called again. He was already HOME. When
we got on the hospice hall a little after 9:00a.m., we were told he had passed
away at 8:55 a.m. .
I’m so grateful for that weekend. I was able to say “I love
you” multiple times to my dad, and even hear him faintly say, “I love you too.”
I gave his last living, earthly shave. I got to wash his face with a hot
washcloth to make him look better for nurses and visitors stopping by to see
him. It was great to know I had filled a void for a sister and mother who had
given themselves to the point of emotional and physical exhaustion. And, I was able give him my own personal
release of freedom to “go to heaven.”
I’m full of thanks for how the events surrounding his death
affirmed my faith, in Jesus, His perfect timing, and the way He blesses through
people who live by faith. For example:
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That morning I had dreamed of my dad running up
to my grandpa, grandma, his brothers, and loved ones in heaven.
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The devotional mother and I read before
receiving the call to leave for the hospital felt like it was for us, and I was
positive death was imminent.
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A former pastor felt led to call about David
Lee’s condition. When the hospital answered-it was 2 minutes after his death.
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Close friends texted messages, with dad in their
thoughts.
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Dad and mother were on the World Gospel Mission
prayer calendar.
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A former neighbor and a small group leader and
his wife (Larry and Sherry McNabb) stayed up all night with dad until 7 a.m.,
before his passing, but returned to the hospital by 9:15 a.m. to see his body
rolled out for preparation.
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People were dropping off meals to cover for
mother before the day was over. Neighbors assured me that the yard would be mowed,
and person after person let me know that my parents had touched them in deep
ways.
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My sister’s high school Spanish classes have
been covered by a competent teacher this whole week in her absence.
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God’s sovereign, provident hand were present the
WHOLE weekend, -other family members have more they could tell you.
I’m thankful for a dad who valued hard work and doing a
project right the first time. I learned to swing a hammer, drive a nail, saw a
board, paint a room, and dig a ditch from him.
I’m thankful for a dad who was organized- he had his whole
funeral service filed away with all prearranged details ready with the funeral
home in Carey. I hung a mirror for mother, and marveled as I went to the garage
to look for a tack for the back of the picture frame. Tools were hung in
perfect order, with all the types of nails and screws neatly filed in little,
plastic, cabinet drawers for easy access. His garage looks more like a well-
kept living room.
I’m thankful for a dad who modeled practical, authentic
belief in Jesus, backed up with action. He was a faithful Sunday School
teacher, Bible Study participant, and caring neighbor. I never heard him use an
unwholesome word, and even though I know he was very human, his pursuit of
holiness and his desire for the experience to be a part of each of his
children’s lives was evident. Daily family reading of Scripture and prayer is
the mode of operation in the Lee home. And you all know that he made his
sacrifices, living thousands of miles away from his closest family, in
ministry.
I’m thankful for a dad who gave me discerning, sound,
biblical advice, yet expected me to make my own decisions. I will miss the phone conversations when I
need to talk to an older buddy.
I’m thankful to have had a dad who was a man of prayer, and
the belief in its power in my family. Family members, he PRAYED for you, by
name- ALL of you. If you are in these seats and you are a part of a
mission/ministerial organization, he probably prayed for you too.
Organized and purposeful, authentic disciple of Jesus,
discerning, man of prayer. I’d love to continue the legacy.
When I arrived home from the hospital I looked at the bags
mother would unpack. I noticed his watch. I stretched it over my hand and onto
my wrist- it looked pretty good. It’s on me today. I grabbed his walking cane,
and made sure I put it in the Rav4, to head back to IN. That’s in my bedroom at
home. I passed his dresser and there
were a few pocket knives on the dresser top. I wondered which one I’d inherit.
But no, it wasn’t time now. I needed to bask in the thankfulness I was feeling
for a faithful earthly father and in the healing that time brings before we
rummage through possessions that evoke such strong memories.
Thanks so much, Dad… Thank you, Lord Jesus, for the hope of
heaven.