In Honor of My Dad

Sunday, November 15, 1981 I thought the sun would never shine again. As I stood at the bedside of my dad he slipped so easily from my presence to be with the Lord. Dad was a United Pentecostal Minister. In fact Dad was my pastor. I lost my Dad, my pastor, my outreach director, the world’s worst singer, the world’s greatest worshipper, a friend to the minister’s of the Alabama District, an Alabama Board member until sickness raged, the one who all the family (Thomas and Ingram) turned to in times of trouble, and encourager of young evangelist.

Death was cruel to our little young family. I am the oldest of 4 children. Dad left us at the young age of 42. My mom was only 35. I was 18, Vicki 17, Scott would have been around 10, and Kristi 7. Somehow we made it. Well we made it because God was everything our little family needed. We also had wonderful support from family and friends.

Dad was a very passionate person. Whatever he chose to do he did it with all of his might. He was a man committed to reaching others. He could not rest until he knocked every door in the area of our church. He reached out to drug addicts, alcoholics, children, the poor, business people, etc. He lived with one thought: “People need God”. Dad was a conservative Apostolic. He was a sharp dresser and a very nice looking man. He had dark hair, was tall and lean. He wore a size 42 long suit as long as I can remember. He was over 6 foot tall and wore a size 9 shoe. He had dark hair, dark skin and had the cutest little grin. If you put Scott’s grin on Trent you would almost have the perfect image of Dad.

Dad was a family man and loved to play with the four of us kids. I sported a broken arm from wrestling with Dad. Vicki vomited in his face in a wrestling match. He also was determined when we did something it would be right. When we dusted furniture he would spot check us but running his finger in a not so noticeable place if he found a speck of dust we dusted the entire house again! He kept our shoes polished to a shine. Vicki and I had to keep his handkerchiefs ironed to a crisp tight fold.

Although 28 years may seem long ago today it only seems as yesterday. I well remember the 100’s who came in support of our family and the memory of Dad to the visitation and funeral. Many drove from great distances because they loved my Dad. I remember the powerful worship service at his funeral and the sweet spirit we felt during the service. I remember the drive of emptiness in procession for the interment. “Why were we being left alone?” I questioned. Thankfully, I learned at the young age of 18 that God would be my comfort.

Rather than choosing bitterness I chose to be blessed. I have endeavored to gain from my experiences of cancer, seizure, and all that went with this horrid time of life to be a better person. I decided I would not make excuses for my life rather I would help others with the things I faced and conquered with the help of a praying Mom. Today I celebrate the memory of a Dad who was passionate about scripture, souls, the UPCI, church, his family, vehicles, his clothing and lived life knowing he could do everything with the help of God.

Dad I love you and I WILL meet you again in heaven!