Today was the day that I knew was coming for along time. It is final now. Last month, I got to visit some family in Florida. This past Summer, they got to come up to Spokane and see the other part of the family. Somehow we all knew it was our last gathering for all.
We shared Communion as a family, sang a few songs, and listened to stories about growing up in Des Moines. Certainly a high point for memories. Looking back on our lives, it is easy to see the times that God kept us through the hard times; well, easier than when we are going through the hard time.
One of my all time favorite books is "Called to Cuba" by David Moore. Not so much because it tells the story of a family who submits to God's calling on their life. Even less because the passion shown to share the love of Christ to a part of the world that needed to hear and see it. And while these are certainly admirable qualities; I like this book because it is about my family. My family who gave everything they had to minister to a people they loved.
My Grandfather's oldest Brother and his wife (Paul and LaVon) knew they were called to Cuba. They ministered with all they had, and didn't care who got named on the marquee. They did it for the God and people they loved.
Have you ever experienced the touch of God? Have you ever been healed? My uncle was, and it confirmed the faith that he had all his life. You see, at one point in his life, he had an ulcer. With the limited technology of the era, the doctors thought it was an appendicitis, but realized it was more serious once that tiny organ was removed. It seems an evangelist was traveling through the area about that time, and Uncle Paul knew he had to see him. it took him a whole week to get up the strength to go to one of the meetings. And when he finally went, he was considerably late. William Branham had already finished his meeting and was moving to pray for people. As was his method, he delivered several numbers to potential recipients of God's healing. Just as Uncle Paul had sat down, Branham called out number 35 which was the number my Aunt LaVon had collected earlier in the evening.
You'll have to get the book to read the whole story, but ultimately, My Uncle Paul was healed from the plaguing, sharp pain in his abdomen. He was healed, but instructed "Don't let the devil place the symptoms back on you!" These instructions can be shared among all of us.
Uncle Paul will no longer be able to share his stories, I will no longer be able to call him up to see what he thinks, his letters will no longer warm my heart. But his memory will live on. His wisdom will continue in my heart. His selfless faith will continue to lead me toward the God that has put a call on my life. No I am not going to Cuba (yet), but I am following in the footsteps of a man of God that knew how to put his trust in his God.
Pablo, you will be missed.
your only brother's grandson.
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