"Give me 42 kolaches," I thought I heard my daughter-in-law Tammy say, in addition to her order for all us in the car. We were on our way to church, where son Jamie was already, preparing for his Youth Sunday School Class. Later, after we had eaten our food in the café area, I found out the purpose of the bag of sausage- and ham-stuffed rolls.
Jamie had asked Howard to give his testimony for the youth in an interview with his dad. Meanwhile, after we climbed the stairs and entered the youth area, we were surprised to see a number of pool tables and passed through a darkened hallway lit only by sparkly, twinkling lights. A teenage musician was giving a trip report when we walked in, and then Jamie began the song service. A worship service, really.
"All of you come to the front," he instructed the youth. "C'mon, c'mon," he admonished them as they were soon obediently all up front standing before the platform. They attentively sang and worshipped together. I had never seen a Sunday School class like this!
As the youth took their seats, they were told it was time for breakfast. So that was what all those kolaches and bottles of water were for! "Girls go first, then the guys," he said, as they eagerly tramped to the food tables, got their kolaches, then ate them sitting in their seats to hear Howard's words.
My husband began telling of visions he had had in the hospital while in recovery after heart surgery last year. They listened intently when Howard told them he had seen Jesus three times, and had had 10 visions. In one in particular, he described vividly how beautiful heaven is, and also that he saw people entering heaven. "They were floating down like Mary Poppins, landing gracefully, then when they recognized where they were, they began to dance joyfully in glad realization that they were home!"
At one point in his interview, Howard related how uncomfortable he was in recovery, and he knew he still had physical therapy facing him. He had heard that it was strenuous and was dreading it immensely. In his weakened state, he even told God to take him home! He said he had felt the Lord's presence so strongly that he wanted to leave this world. I remember he said, "Call Greg," our son. What I didn't know was that he was going to give him instructions about his demise!
"No, Dad, you're not going to die. I will help you get through this," Greg assured him. And he did!
(Coincidentally, later in the morning service during the pastor's message, he spoke about his recent emergency surgery and difficult recovery. "I told God I was ready, and I wanted to go home," he admitted. "Thank God my other half wouldn't have that!" he said as he shook his head.)
How gratifying it was to us as parents to be able to attend church and worship with these kids and grandkids! Now that we're home from Houston, it seems almost like a vision of my own!
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