I had excused myself prematurely from an evening church fellowship. There, all alone in my office, I wearily faced a pile of books, papers, Bibles, and "stuff" that covered my desk from one corner to the other, but tonight I wasn't going to organize my desk. Oh, how I enjoy peaceful Saturday nights. These moments of quiet fellowship with my Savior are to prepare my own heart for Sunday's worship. My eyes closed and I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's so good to have this time alone with you, Lord."

The silence was shattered by the sound of the phone. My heart sank. "Really, Lord . . . I need to calm my mind and focus my heart for tomorrow. Please, pretty please, let it be a telemarketer."

On the other end of the line was a woman who lives on the opposite side of the continent. She had just received a call from the retirement center near me and had been notified that her father, a resident there, would probably not live through the night. "Pastor," she said, "could you go and be of comfort to him in the last few hours of his life? I'll get the first available flight and be there as soon as possible." "I'm on my way," I replied.
 
Lew was the oldest member of my church and I knew him quite well. In two months he was to celebrate his 100th birthday. I had celebrated the last five with him. Lew was a dedicated Christian man who never came to church late. Sometimes he arrived an hour earlier than me and one time he arrived the day before! Snow, sleet, ice, sub-zero temperatures, pouring rain, unbearable heat-- none of it made any difference to him. At ninety years of age he drove across the United States to visit relatives. At ninety-six he was still cooking the beans over an open fire for our church's "Old Fashion Day" celebration.  At ninety-seven he was still living by himself and driving to church three times a week. That's just the kind of man he was: strong, loyal, independent, energetic. About three years ago he suffered a stroke which impaired his speech and mobility. Finally, his daughter was able to convince her "daddy" to sell his house and move into the neighborhood retirement community--still close to his church family and his friends. Now I was on my way to see him through the last mile of his nearly 100 year journey.

When I arrived at the retirement center, they were preparing to take Lew to the hospital. His doctor had decided to admit him in order to make him a little more comfortable; albeit, Lew wanted nothing to hold him back, nothing to prolong his life here on earth, no tubes, no IV's, no machines. As I followed the Emergency Squad to town, I prayed and asked the Lord for a Divine favor. "Father, let me be there for Lew as he leaves this temporary dwelling place and enters into the glorious presence of Jesus."

Soon after arriving at the hospital, the physician came in and spoke with me. "He may have an hour or so, but not much longer," he said. "Comfort him." I spent the next hour holding those 100 year old hands, softly singing a few hymns, quoting the Scriptures and whispering prayers of intercession into his ears. The room was beautifully quiet and I found myself deeply engaged in an attitude of worship-- something I had thought would be lost this evening.