Got his Wings: June 30, 1996
Story by: Randy Grathen
“Why do you seek the Living One among the dead? He is not here, but he is risen.” (Luke 24: 5 & 6)
There were many miracles in my father’s life. Seven of them were his children Kristine, Randy, Lynn, Terri, Scott, Rick, and Mark. Another was our mother, his companion and wife, of 48 years, Carol Mae Glawe.
After I became a Christian, I was worried for my dad and the rest of my family. We went to church as a family every Sunday, but he and I never talked about having a relationship with God and Jesus. Like most men of his generation, they don’t talk much about things of the heart. After he got over his initial shock at me, and got used to the idea that his son was now a Christian, we did have several discussions. Much to my relief, he told me of three major events in his life where God showed him that he was indeed one of His children and was watching over him. Now, I’d like to share them with you.
The first time was as a boy, playing along the Menominee river in Iron Mountain, Michigan. There isn’t anything a nine-year-old can’t do on a sunshiny summer afternoon, a river, and a good imagination, except saving himself from drowning. When he fell in he said he remembered slowly sinking towards the bottom of the river and looking back up at the surface and the sunshine. The next thing he remembers was a firm hand grasping him by the front of his shirt and being hoisted out of the water, left on the bank coughing and sputtering. When he looked around, there was no one there.
The second came many years later, as a young soldier on the Island of Corregidor in the Philippines. He just stepped out of the jungle into a clearing when he saw a man kneeling in prayer. Under any other circumstances this would have been a time to stop and chat, but this was Corregidor, and the other man was Japanese. Dad did not hesitate. They saw each other at the same moment – dad won. The man he killed that day was not the enemy, just another human being doing what he’d been ordered to do. The jungle went completely silent. Not even the sound of insects buzzing. Then a “warmth” washed over him, and a feeling of great peace settled upon him. Dad knew he had been forgiven. He carried the prayer book of that young solder with him from that day on to remind him this was a war of men, not of God’s. The only time I saw my dad cry was when he told the story of that encounter.
The last time was near the end of his life. He was getting sicker and more frail in his last years. He and mom stayed with us at our home in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. At that point, I think dad knew that his time left on earth was short. His health was failing, and he was in and out of the hospital several times.
I got a call at work one day, to come home because an ambulance was on it’s way to get dad. I got there before they did. Laurie and I talked with him while we waited. He told us that he was laying on the couch praying. He said he had “challenged God” over something, he never told us what it was, but he said that he died. God showed him a little piece of what hell was like, and then told him he could go back to the living. Later, the Paramedics and the people at the hospital never confirmed that he died, but anyone who knows the power of God knows that all things are possible.
Over the next couple of weeks our pray was that he would not linger and needlessly suffer. We didn’t have to put him in a nursing home. He didn’t suffer from some of the other disease that can waste a person’s mind and body until the only thing they have left to pray for is death. He was not hooked up to a bunch of machines.
In the end, the end came quickly. Mom and our brother Rick took him to the hospital on a Saturday evening, and he died Sunday morning at 3:30 am.
It was fitting that his wake was on the fourth-of-July. He was a patriot all his life.
His final wish was that he’d have a pine box, a wooden cross, and he wanted his ashes scattered over the Menominee river at the old railroad bridge where he played as a kid. Well, the best we could do was an oak casket, but at least it’s a rental. He would like to have known that. He took his last swim too as we dumped his ashes in the Menominee river. Only this time no one would have to save him, because he already was.
Whenever we talked to dad on the phone or came to visit, we’d always say “goodbye” when we hung up or got ready to leave. But he always corrected us and said, “Don’t say goodbye. Say, see you later.”
Well dad, we know we’ll see you later, because God proved to you and us that you were in His care.
John 3 – 16 tell us… For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whoever believes in Him should not parish but have eternal life.
“See you later dad.”
Leave a Reply