I Know Why He Died At Peace
On April 29, 2005, five months before his 90th birthday, Cyril James Farrell died peacefully in bed.
I know why he died at peace.
Cy married my wife's mother, Hilda, twenty-two years ago. They'd both lost their respective spouses to death. My wife and I, and our three children, didn't see Hilda and Cy more than once or twice a year because we always lived far from each other, but I remember those early years. Quick-tempered and a no-nonsense kind of guy, Cy usually told you what he thought about others, even if it wasn't polite or kind.
And he didn't mellow with age.
But where the passage of years can often set a person in a bad pattern, some life-events can result in just the opposite. That's what happened to Cy.
The first caught up with him in his early 80s. Illness confined him to a walker, then a wheelchair, and eventually a bed. The second life-altering event occurred when he was 85.
That's when he met Christ.
Perhaps Cy committed his life to the Lord Jesus because he finally caught sight of his mortality. Or perhaps it happened because Hilda brought him to church and Sunday school every week. Or perhaps it was because of his family's prayers. Then again, perhaps because of all those things, Cy confessed his sins to God and asked the Lord Jesus to cleanse his hardened heart with His blood.
Never let anyone tell you God is not still in the saving business. For 85 years, Cyril Farrell lived a good life, but a "lost" life. For decades he had heard about God's grace and forgiveness, but like all of us do to one degree or another, he turned away to live as he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.
Then, at 85 years of age, Cyril Farrell became a chid of God.
Slowly, probably imperceptibly to those who saw him every day, Cy began to change. And those who've known him as long as I have know the change was remarkable. Despite his loss of health and strength, I never heard him complain, except to say about his legs, "Isn't that the craziest thing? They don't work anymore like they used to."
Judging from the pastor's eulogy, and the words of those who attended his funeral, no one else heard him complain, either. Instead, they remarked that he always met others with a patient spirit, a ready smile and a kind word.
I guessed more than 300 white-haired friends showed up at the church. Many more would have come, but lived too far away, or were too frail to travel. I believe they came because Cyril James Farrell left a legacy worthy of Christian -- a legacy that attests to the grace, mercy and patience of God who stays with us, year after year, waiting for the Prodigals to come home.
Cy, from one Prodigal to another, I look forward to seeing you on the other side.
rich
rmaffeo@comcast.net
I know why he died at peace.
Cy married my wife's mother, Hilda, twenty-two years ago. They'd both lost their respective spouses to death. My wife and I, and our three children, didn't see Hilda and Cy more than once or twice a year because we always lived far from each other, but I remember those early years. Quick-tempered and a no-nonsense kind of guy, Cy usually told you what he thought about others, even if it wasn't polite or kind.
And he didn't mellow with age.
But where the passage of years can often set a person in a bad pattern, some life-events can result in just the opposite. That's what happened to Cy.
The first caught up with him in his early 80s. Illness confined him to a walker, then a wheelchair, and eventually a bed. The second life-altering event occurred when he was 85.
That's when he met Christ.
Perhaps Cy committed his life to the Lord Jesus because he finally caught sight of his mortality. Or perhaps it happened because Hilda brought him to church and Sunday school every week. Or perhaps it was because of his family's prayers. Then again, perhaps because of all those things, Cy confessed his sins to God and asked the Lord Jesus to cleanse his hardened heart with His blood.
Never let anyone tell you God is not still in the saving business. For 85 years, Cyril Farrell lived a good life, but a "lost" life. For decades he had heard about God's grace and forgiveness, but like all of us do to one degree or another, he turned away to live as he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.
Then, at 85 years of age, Cyril Farrell became a chid of God.
Slowly, probably imperceptibly to those who saw him every day, Cy began to change. And those who've known him as long as I have know the change was remarkable. Despite his loss of health and strength, I never heard him complain, except to say about his legs, "Isn't that the craziest thing? They don't work anymore like they used to."
Judging from the pastor's eulogy, and the words of those who attended his funeral, no one else heard him complain, either. Instead, they remarked that he always met others with a patient spirit, a ready smile and a kind word.
I guessed more than 300 white-haired friends showed up at the church. Many more would have come, but lived too far away, or were too frail to travel. I believe they came because Cyril James Farrell left a legacy worthy of Christian -- a legacy that attests to the grace, mercy and patience of God who stays with us, year after year, waiting for the Prodigals to come home.
Cy, from one Prodigal to another, I look forward to seeing you on the other side.
rich
rmaffeo@comcast.net
posted by rich at
11:45 PM
2 Comments:
Thank you for sharing this! Having one VERY prodigal daughter...I really need hope!
Elizabeth
By
Anonymous, at 12:11 AM
I'm slowly -- very slowly -- coming to the recognition that my timeline is not the same as God's My view of life is outside an eternal view from which God looks at things. To HIm, what is 80 years, if that's how long it takes for Him to get hold of a prodigal? As long as the bottom line finds the prodigal at home in Father's house, 80 years is worth the wait. We can trust Him who raised the dead to also raise the spiritually sick and dying to health and new life. Thanks be to God.
By
rich, at 2:08 PM
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