I decided to make my own blog page after seeing Crystal's. I love her idea of blogging the great things that God does in her life and decided to try to do my own. If people are interested, they can read it and if they aren't they don't have to read it.
My first blog will be the testimony of my father, Thomas Eugene Coe...some know him as Tommy, or Popsicle or Grandpa or Dad. I had written this a few days ago to send to my friend Crystal but then decided (with some infulence from God) to send it to some others that might like it. It's sort of my Father's Day in memory of my Dad. Dad passed away on February 7th, 2006 from a long battle with emphazyma and heart problems. He was a stubborn man who fought the Lord and his family the whole way...until that day in November...here's his testimony that touched not only his life and mine, but many others:
My father and I never had a good relationship. I was the oldest and always to blame for anything going wrong. As even my mother and siblings could tell you, I could no nothing right and my sister could do nothing wrong, as far as he was concerned. I was always trying ways to make my father proud of me and to be close with him and to make him happy, but it never seemed to be enough. I would clean the house while my parents were gone without being asked to, and he would come in and criticize something I had missed or didn't do to his satisfaction. I worked really hard one semester in school to make straight A's. I ended up with all A's except for one B in PE (let's face it, I've never been the athletic type) and I got ridiculed because I couldn't do anything right, like make straight A's even when I worked at it. That's just 2 examples of the relationship between my father and I most of my life.
My Dad also always resented most anything to do with God, Church or religion. He would make fun of Mom and I when we went to Church and complain about all the time we spent there. He refused to go or to listen to us or anyone else about God, the Bible or salvation.
Now, jump to about 2004. We had been living in Missouri for several years. Mom had finally gotten word that her breast cancer was in remission. My grandma (Mom's mother) had died unexpectantly that year and Dad had started to go to Church with us a few times, every now and then. He would always sit in the back of the Church but he never really was open to talk about anything he thought about it.
Father's Day that year, God had laid it on my heart to get Dad a Bible. Let me tell you, I was scared to death. Even though Dad had been going to Church, he still complained about it and said he didn't need God or salvation. He always felt like he would have to give up too much in order to be saved. I've never figured out what he thought he'd have to give up or change but that was his excuse anyway. God had to really work at me before I finally got that Bible. I just didn't know how my Dad would respond to that and I just didn't like making him more upset with me. Anyway, I gave him his gift. He unwrapped it (he could see from the box what it was)...he never said a word. Then he opened the box, ran his hand across the front of the Bible before picking it up. Time seemed to move so slow, I was so scared not knowing what he was thinking or how he was going to react. He thumbed through it a couple of times then he closed the book and laid it down on the table beside him. He finally looked up at me and said, "Thank you, now I have my own Bible to take to Church with me when I go." That was all that was said about it but I could tell it was ok...he accepted it. My father was never big on expressing his feeling (except when he was mad) so I took this as a good sign. I didn't see him open it at home, although there were times I had a feeling that he did when no one was around, but he did take it to Church with him when he went.
It was several months later he would make remarks like, "I can't get saved until I understand the Bible better." I would tell him that understanding the Bible was not a requirement and that God would reveal the Bible to him after he was saved. He would ask, "What does that mean?" I told him that it was hard to explain cause he would only understand after he was saved. He'd also ask questions like, "Why do people come to Church and stand up to talk about their problems or what God has done for them and how He's worked in their live and then start crying and then everybody else starts crying." I told him that was what is called personal testimonies that people like to share with other Christians. Dad would say something like, "But alot of times, it seems God is not doing what they were even praying about but they would still be happy. How can they be happy about that?" I told him that as Christians, we come to understand that God doesn't always answer our prayers the way we want Him to but in the end, we learn that God knows best and if we just give Him control of our lives, then we are better off and we like to share these lessons with other Christians." He would ask again, "But why cry about it and why does everyone else cry with them?" I said it's because we love one another and alot of times, we've experienced something like that in our lives. I told him that so much would be weird to him until he was saved because he just couldn't possibly understand. Of course, he thought I was nuts but at least he was asking questions which meant he was thinking about this.
He always had a new excuse as to why he couldn't get saved. One time, it was; "I can't get saved because I won't be able to go to Church all the time because I just won't feel up to it." I told him that going to Church wasn't a requirement. It was just something you wanted to do as a Christian so that you can learn more about God and to have fellowship with other Christians. Then he said, "Well, there is no need to be saved because I wouldn't be able to join the Church because I can't get baptized with being dunked in water because of my emphazyma." I told him I could ask the Deacons and Pastor about that, if he wanted me to. He said, "Well, if you want to, it doesn't matter because I couldn't do it and I don't really care what they might say because nobody is going to tell me when or if I can get saved." Dad was always no-commital like that.
I did talk to our Pastor and the Deacons and after much prayer, they decided that since Dad was on oxygen and had so many health problems, that when he got saved, he could still join the Church without a total immursion baptism. When they discussed this with my Dad, he just kind of shrugged it off and said that just because they said that, it didn't mean anything, that he still didn't know if he was going to or even needed to be saved. He kept this gruff attitude until November of 2005. We were at Church, the Pastor was in the middle of his sermon, Dad was sitting in the back, as usual. He needed to go to the restroom so he had to walk to the front...carrying his oxygen tank and all. He made it to the restroom and trying to make his way back to his seat. He ended up having to stop at the front row to rest. He sat down in the front row. I don't think the Pastor seen this but all of a sudden, the Pastor asked the piano person to come play a song of invitation. (Our Pastor is always great with letting the Spirit lead the service). Pastor Rick asked if anyone wanted to come to the alter to pray...next thing I know, just about everybody in the Church was going to the front. By the time I got there, the whole front of the Church was filled so I ended up having to stand against the wall, at the end of the very row my Dad was sitting at. I had a clear view of his face. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I was praying in my mind but kept watching my Dad. A Deacon and another man came and sat on either side of Dad. He kept looking at the floor, he would look up or talk. Both men started praying over Dad. I could tell by Dad's mannerism and expression, that he was fighting his emotions and trying to stay to fight whatever was going on in his mind and heart. All of a sudden, I felt something pass me, I can't explain what it was, a feeling, a breeze, I don't know, can't explain it...all I know was that it seemed to stop at Dad's feet. Dad still was looking down with this stern look on his face and I could tell he was still fighting with whatever was going on inside him. All of a sudden, this...whatever it was...I could see him move up from his feet to his legs and up his body. I could almost see Dad changing right before my eyes...not physically but something was changing. It got to his neck and I seen this move up Dad's face and I tell you, I could see the very moment Dad gave up his fight against God. I seen when he was saved. It was awesome. I was motioning for Mom to come up front (she had stayed in her seat since it was so crowded up front)...she was looking at me with this expression...and all I could do was scream, "He did it, Dad just got saved." Mom looked at me and mouthed, "Are you sure?" and all I could do was nod my head. She came up there and got to the row behind him. By this point, Dad was crying and laughing at the same time...the Pastor was jumping and dancing in the aisle (come to find out later, he didn't even know what was going on, he just said he knew the Holy Spirit was working in that Church).
After all the celebrating and hugging and crying and laughing ended (I think the whole Church felt it)...we were on our way home. Dad says to me, "Now Anita, I don't want you calling and telling everybody about what happened today. It's nobody's business." He was telling me this in his normal, gruff voice. I said, "Ok Dad, whatever you want." Then it wasn't a minute later he said, "Well, I guess you'd better call Brenda and Greg to tell them." I said, "Don't you want to tell them yourself?" He said, "No, you go ahead and do it. So I called both my siblings from my cellphone on the way home from Church. Then, when I got off with both of them, he said, "Well, you'd better call Peggy, Jean and Linda (his sisters in Virginia) to let them know or they will be mad." So I called them, as well. Of course, everybody was happy with the news. After we got home and for the next week or so, if the phone rang, Dad would ask who it was and if we'd told them what had happened with Dad last Sunday at Church. He was like a little kid, he wanted to tell everybody...and if you knew my Dad, he wasn't one to like to draw attention to himself much.
In the next couple of months, Dad, Mom and I would read our Bibles together...Dad would usually let Mom and I take turns reading but he did read a few times. Mom and I took turns saying grace at mealtime. Dad always would refuse until one night he said, "Do you think I could say grace tonight?" Of course we both said "sure". He said, "But I don't know how to do it or what to say." We told him to just say what was on his heart. His first prayer was short, sweet and simple, "Dear Lord, I want to thank You for all that you've give me and ask You to bless this food. Amen." It took all Mom and I had not to cry with joy but we knew Dad wouldn't like it. Dad said, "That wasn't much of a prayer." I told him that God knew his heart and that God would be happy with that prayer.
Over the next couple of months, Dad and I got closer than we had ever been before. We talked all the time. He told me he loved me more times in the next 2 1/2 months than he ever had in my whole life combined. He hugged me all the time and thanked me for anything and everything I did for him (I took care of his meds and kept up with his appointments, etc). We got so close and I loved every minute of it.
One morning, in January, I got up to find him sitting at the dining room table. He was looking down at his hands. I didn't know if he was praying or what he was doing, I just knew he was deep in thought. He didn't seem to notice I had walked into the room. All of a sudden, he looks up at me and says, "Get Pastor Rick on the phone, I want to talk to him about getting baptized today." I said, "Dad, they told you that you didn't have to do that in order to join the Church." Dad just grinned at me and said, "I'm not wanting to get baptized just to join the Church. I want to get baptized because I feel I have to. And didn't you say that we need to put our trust in God in all things?" I chuckled and said, "Yeah, your right Dad. Ok, I'll call Pastor Rick." I was scared for my father because it was winter time and he had already been having lots of problems. I was scared he'd catch pnemonia or something but I knew this was something God was laying on Dad's heart and he wanted to do God's will.
Pastor Rick called around until he could find a Church that had a Baptistry that was heated. It took Mom and I about 3 hours to get him cleaned up and dressed to go to this Church. We kept having to stop and let him catch his breathe and rest. We got him to the Church and it took Dad about 30 minutes to get from the van to the back of the Church where he changed clothes (with the help of a couple of Deacons and the Pastor)...he kept having to stop, sit and rest several times. Not sure how it happened, but word had gotten around and there were about 35 people from our Church there to see this baptism. My sister was even able to get there from over an hour away. When they finally were able to get him to the Baptistry, and were able to take the oxygen off him and then after the Pastor said a few words, they dunked him in. After they had dunked him and they brought him out of the water, Dad looked up at one of the Deacon's and said, "Well, now you can really call me Brother." Everybody laughed and cried at the same time. The men took Dad to the back again and dried him off and changed his clothes. Dad came back into the sanctuary to sit at a chair we had moved to the front where he could sit down so everybody could come hug him and greet him. He loved it all. He never got sick or any worse for all that...in fact, he seemed better...for a while anyway. It was a few weeks after that day, he started having more bad breathing problems. He went into the hospital. He came home that time but was back in the hospital about a week later...he never came home after that. He went in on a Thursday (3 weeks after his Baptism)...we had called his siblings and my brother in Virginia...everybody decided they wanted to come see him. I think everybody knew subconsiously that it was getting close to the end for my Dad. My brother, Dad's 3 sisters, his brother and wife, 2 cousins all came from Virginia and even Dad's uncle and wife from Georgia all came out that weekend.
Dad was in Intensive Care but the nurses let everybody come in and out to visit. Dad was cracking jokes and picking on everybody...it was almost like he was at home and everything was normal. Than that Saturday night, Dad told one of the ladies that was visiting from our Church that he guess he really messed up by not officially joining the Church when he had the chance. Well, she went to the Deacons and Pastor and they arranged to come see Dad that next day, Sunday morning. The Pastor had asked the congregation before services started if they would vote if they wanted Brother Tom as a member of Dove Bible Church and of course, it was unanimous...so the Pastor had a substitute fill in for him and him, the Deacons and the Secretary of our Church all came to the hospital and offically declared him a member of Dove Bible Church. There was not a dry eye in the room...even my Dad. That was really the last time he was competely alert for most of the day. He was sleeping after that except for a few times on Monday he'd wake up and want a drink. One time, he woke up and looked around and said, "You mean I'm still here?" He even woke up one time to find the nurse giving him a sponge bath. When she put his hospital gown back on him, one of the recepters they had on his chest for the heart monitor wouldn't stick and it stuck straight up underneath his hospital gown. He looked at Mom and said, "Look honey, my viagra finally started working but in the wrong place." The nurse about fell in the floor laughing so hard. he woke up one time that evening and I happen to be the one sitting beside him and I was holding his hand. He squeezed my hand, smiled at me and said, "I love you." That was the last time he told me he loved me and the last thing he said to me. He died the next morning. I had been sitting by his bedside since the day before, never wanting to leave...I wanted to be there if he ever woke up again because I knew those times were getting few and far apart and he was never awake long and I didn't want to miss it. I made others bring me food and drinks cause I refused to leave the room. It was Tuesday morning, my brother and sister kept trying to talk me into leaving for just a little while. They wanted me to go to the cafeteria long enough to get a cup of coffee so I could get some air. I didn't want to but everybody kept telling me I needed to. They told me to just go and I could come back in 10 to 15 minutes. Well, we went to the cafeteria and had just gotten our coffee and they wanted me to sit down at a table for 5 minutes. We had no more sat down when my uncle's wife came running in and said, "You need to get back to your Dad's room, now!" I took off running and got there and a nurse was standing over Dad and said, "He's gone now." I cried my eyes out. I kept saying, "Why did you all have to make me leave. I wanted to be with him and you made me leave." I don't know what I was thinking...like me being there would have kept him there longer or what... I just don't know, all I knew was that everybody had made me leave my Dad and then he had died. I couldn't stop crying and blaming myself for leaving him. One of the Deacon's grabbed me and made me sit down. He patted my knee and said, "Anita, look at me." I didn't want to but finally I looked up at him. He said, "Anita, you know your Dad, he never liked being the center of attention. He didn't want you there, he didn't want anybody to see him go. He waited until all the attention was off him to finally go." I sat there looking at my lap and crying and letting those words sink in and then I looked up and started laughing. I said, "You know, your right. That'd be just like my dad to just want to slip away when nobody was looking."
We had out of town company for the next week. The whole week was such a blur...having to go to the funeral home...making all those plans, picking out his coffin...it was horrible...like I was someone else looking from afar. The funeral was over and houseguests started leaving a little at a time...my brother was the last to leave...one week exactly after Dad died. After the house was finally empty and it was just Mom and I, I started feeling sorry for myself that I only got about 2 1/2 months with a father that loved me and was proud of me. I didn't blame God but I wasn't letting go of this resentment I felt for being short-changed with my Dad. A couple of weeks went by and I finally decided I needed to talk to God about all this. After I cried my heart out to Him, God let me know that He didn't JUST give me 2 1/2 months with my Dad, but that He had GIVEN me 2 1/2 wonderful, unforgetable months with a Dad I never could get close to before. I realized the blessing that God gave me and it was so much easier to deal with after that. I still missed my Dad (and still do) and sometimes, like now, I still cry for my Dad but I know he is in a much better place and that he isn't suffering anymore. The human side of me wants to be selfish and wish he was still here with me but I know Dad is so much happier now and that one day I will see him again. This is my Dad's testimony but it has touched my life and my faith in Christ so much. Dad's determination to follow God and get baptized even with all his health problems was a lesson for alot of people to see and learn and he touched many lives in that short time of his walk with Christ. He was a completely changed man. Gone was the discontent, negativity, doubts, and fears that he had. He accepted Christ and very literally became a new person and loved every minute of it.
This is in remembrance of my Dad for Father's Day 2009. I miss you Dad and can't wait to see you again.
FOR TODAY...JULY 20, 2009
