Day 29: the Best is yet to Come

For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. Hebrews 13:14 nlt

My biological dad, who by now you know I sometimes call “Dad Harper,” is named Everett Andrew Harper, and he was a Tootsie-roll pop kind of man. Hard on the outside, gooey on the inside. If you didn’t really know him, his gruff voice, cowboy-like swagger, scuffed-up work boots, and the no-nonsense, synergistic way he was able to bark an order to someone on his construction crew—and spit tobacco juice with a sharp-shooter’s precision at the same time—could be quite intimidating. (And I don’t exaggerate when I say “cowboy-like.” The man actually rode wild horses and bulls on the rodeo circuit to make extra money when he was in college, and always reminded my sister, Theresa, and me of a smaller version of John Wayne.)

As you can imagine, my high school and college boyfriends would get all wide-eyed and momentarily immobilized like a deer in the headlights of an automobile when they met him. But God dramatically softened my dad’s heart in the last several decades of his life, transforming him into a caring father who called my sister and I multiple times a week and filled scores of prayer journals (which we discovered after he passed away) petitioning God on our behalf. He spent his latter years pouring into people less fortunate than himself. He became committed to hiring gentlemen who had difficulty getting jobs—like ex-cons and homeless men for his construction crew—and consistently swung wide the doors of his home to the occasional stray dog and recovering addict.

The cancer he nonchalantly knuckle-punched for over a decade finally killed him some years ago, and not a week goes by that I don’t think about him and smile. One of the last things he whispered hoarsely to me a few days before he fell into a coma just prior to passing away was, “When is our baby girl comin’ home?” He was referring to Missy because I was midway through the adoption process at that point. Despite his oh-so-stoic manner, deeply conservative roots, and the fact that I’d already been devastated by two failed adoption attempts, Dad was unreservedly supportive from the moment I told him God had prompted me to begin the risky process of adopting an HIV+ little girl from Haiti whose first mama had died from undiagnosed AIDS and whom doctors said didn’t have much chance of survival herself.

And no matter how difficult our adoption journey got or how perilous Missy’s health became, Dad remained resolute that our Creator Redeemer would make a way where there seemed to be no way and that Missy would become a “Harper girl” and his first granddaughter. I miss him terribly and grieve the fact that Missy didn’t get to experience being fiercely loved by her granddaddy, but I also look forward to the day we’re reunited in glory. I’m convinced we’ll walk through those pearly gates to find Dad Harper standing there proudly next to some supernatural John Deere tractor with a smile on his face and detailed plans in his mind regarding how to teach his granddaughter to drive it.

• How has experiencing the death of a loved one affected the way you perceive heaven?
• Which emotion do you experience more when you consider the idea of eternity—peace or uncertainty?
• Who has the Lord placed in your life to help you remember that God always makes a way—even through the hard stuff?