d-day

I've often thought it ironic that the day known as D-day (the day that the Allied forces invaded German-occupied Normandy) happens to be the day that my Dad died.

It's called D-day, not because it was thought of as doomsday or Decision Day, but because every military operation's starting day is called it's D-day, just as an emphasis. 6/6/44 was the D-day of Operation Overlord, but that's consequential. The irony lies not only in the fact that "Dad" starts with "D", but that in a very real sense, the "operation" of living life without an earthly father started for me that day, 55 years later. Is it hard? I wouldn't know. The most formative years of my life have happened since then, and thought I can say that things would have been better had D-day not happened, that I wouldn't have gotten up to so much mischief, that I would still treat my family well, and that none of the stuff with my ex-stepfather would have happened, I know that all of that is pure speculation. What I do know is that God called him home. And I can see now the good that God has brought about through it all, despite the pain that was and still is and ever will be. What I have is an example to follow of a man that I knew far too little, but who lived life faithfully for the gospel of Christ, and who is now praising God in His very presence right now. Today marks his sixth year into a measureless eternity with his Saviour.

To live is Christ, and to die is gain.

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When weary feet despair to tread,
And each bright day has darkness fed,
When tired eyes would see no more,
And burdened hands would catch no fall,
Know then that God hath sent the rain
To wash away the pain.
-- Iain