“He makes me lie down …” (Ps. 23:2a).
Following the death of John the Baptist, Jesus knew His disciples needed quiet time to process what had taken place. He knew how difficult it was to minister to others while their own hearts were breaking. So He invited them to come away by themselves and get some rest (Mark 6:31).
I, too, have heard the Lord whisper that same invitation to me in a unique way following my father’s move to heaven and the swirl of events that were triggered by it. I received the call about my father at 7:40 a.m. ET on Feb. 21. On Friday, Feb. 23, my son drove me four hours to The Cove in western North Carolina, where some of my family was gathering. My two daughters, their spouses and my three granddaughters followed.
Early the next morning, we rode in a motorcade escorting Daddy from The Cove to the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte. Then my son drove me three hours back to my home. Tuesday, I drove back to Charlotte in order to be on the plane early the next morning as family members accompanied Daddy to Washington, D.C. We traveled by motorcade to the nation’s Capitol, where Daddy was laid in honor in the Rotunda. Following a brief, meaningful ceremony, I stood for over 90 minutes greeting Cabinet officials, senators and congressmen who came to show their respect and offer their condolences.
That afternoon, I stood for three hours to speak to anyone who came into the Rotunda, from U.S. Supreme Court Justice Gorsuch and Justice Alito to people whose identities I’ll never know but whose tears flowed freely with mine. That night, I went to the White House as the guest of the president and first lady for a private family dinner. The next morning, I traveled once again by motorcade to the Capitol as Daddy was removed by an honor guard. Next, we escorted him to the plane for what would be his last flight and the return trip to Charlotte. He was taken once again by motorcade back to the library.
That night, I attended a dinner for about 200 extended family members and also sat in on a program briefing for the funeral service. Early the next morning, I found myself once again in a motorcade that took me to the library to await the beginning of the noon-time service. Following the service, I stood in line to speak to people until no one else was left to greet in the tent. At 3:30 p.m., a processional was formed, and we walked with Daddy to the gravesite where, after a brief service, he was finally laid to rest. I returned to the hotel, and the next morning, drove the three hours back home.
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SOURCE: Charisma News