“Life moves at the speed of your age. Use your time wisely because it only speeds up,” my dad said.
I remember hearing this as a 9-year-old girl begging to hurry up my birthday to turn 10 years old. It couldn’t happen fast enough. The days wouldn’t move fast enough. My father reminded me of the fact that when you are 9-year-old, you are moving at 9 miles per hour in time. Same holds true today, I am currently moving at 37 miles per hour and when my father took his last breath, he was moving at 77 miles per hour.
My dad taught me to be a good human above everything else. Work hard. Take care of family. Love with all you have. Love the Lord. Give when no one is looking. If you can, pick up the bill for others from time to time. Smile. Give thanks. Be gentle with your children – a try to be more kind than not. Eat the cookie. Let the kids eat the cookies. Make vacations important. Make memories more important. Always cheer for the VOLS and be confident they will win the next game. Never get too excited about the Braves until the post season. Go to church. Sing. If you have a gift, use it. Appreciate good music. Stay away from the drink – it will only lead to trouble. Pay your debts. Be proud to be an American. Go on mountain picnics. Spend time with family. Chili is always better the second day. The Lord will always deal with those who do wrong. Bologna sandwiches and white bread should be had on Saturday afternoons. Drink coffee. Laugh. If it is not in writing, it didn’t happen – keep a record. Sometimes the GPS takes you through small towns when the map actually has a main highway, (sorry about that time going to the beach). Keep the unity. Laugh. Try not to talk so loud and so much. Be a good steward with what you have been given. Return what you borrow. Always go and vote. Take care of your equipment and it won’t let you down. Some things you don’t cut corners on. Heart ache happens – but you have to get back up. You cannot help everyone. Don’t spend money you do not have.
And the way my father loved, was found in the powerful demonstration of how he died.
He led in love. Now, he had grumpy moments. We all do. Especially on the travel day to vacation. As many know and many may not know, my dad has nearly died many times over the last seven years he has seen many incredibly dark and difficult days with his own health. More than once, we thought we had lost him. More than once, we were knocking on death’s door. Not to mention, his and my mom’s first-born son, Robbie, was stillborn. And then watching both of his parents pass away and then his older brother. Then, three years ago, he had to endure yet another death of his oldest daughter, Robin, due to Covid-19. But through it all – his eyes were on the Lord. But through it all – his faith grew. Not to mention a grandson born prematurely and concerns he would even live, a granddaughter who was born with a cleft lip and palate, another granddaughter not able to have children, five adopted great-grandchildren who
each have their stories of their own of pain and heart ache.
I pray that I may learn to live in the sufferings the way he did. I pray my family feels the depth of love for me when my day comes as we did for him. When he passed from death to true, abundant life, it was the most special moment of my life. Sunday had been another really rough day with him calling in the middle of morning church needing me and my brother to come and help him immediately. This had happened a few times, so we knew the drill and took off. We were able to stabilize him and bring peace to some discomfort. Now, we were planning a big family gathering to celebrate my most “princess” niece leaving for college – but dad wasn’t up for it, which was not the normal. So, we chose to forgo our normal big family time and met up for Twister’s ice cream. And then my sweet sister-in- law messaged us to get home quickly. In that moment, I knew something was different. The ambulance was on the way again – my sister-in-law screaming for me to hurry from the top of the steps, and then “crisis-mode Heather” arrived again to the scene. My middle school nephew helped me launch him from the bed to the floor to begin chest compressions until the ambulance arrived. For nearly 12 minutes his heart was stopped. He was gone.
All the years of dropping everything and running to save him were over. He was gone.
Until he wasn’t – his heart started again. He was quickly taken to the closest hospital for immediate attention. For an hour we waited. No answers, and no updates – just wondering if he was going to pull through this one too like all of the rest. From the moment the word was spoken, the family rallied together. Brother and I sitting together again at the hospital – this time without our sister. We, of course, laughing at the many moments of opportunity to find something to laugh at in the strangest of circumstances in a hospital ER waiting room. After many hours of waiting, we were able to transfer to our preferred hospital at UT Medical Center – thankful by ambulance and not by helicopter. A story for another day. The team of experts whipped into gear. And they began to prepare us for the worst of news. At 9:30 AM, we received the news that we knew was coming. The benefit of a loving family and the importance of teaching your children to be good humans is that our parents also taught us how to think about things. My brother and I were perfectly aligned in every decision.
And the family was called – and they came. Every single one of them. Not a soul missing from the room.
As we gathered, it was difficult for many to see him living on a ventilator with small tremors due to neurological damage. It was difficult to see him without a smile on his face and his hand in the air with his notorious wave. A note to consider, this week of August, three years prior, we were living the journey of the pandemic and the loss of my sister. She passed away alone on a ventilator at UT Medical Center. None of us were there – which is not who we are. We are a family that does it all together – a unit. We hurt together and celebrate together. The number three in the studies of biblical numerology means “divine perfection”. And it is very clear on this day, this week was divinely perfected.
As we joined arms and hands to surround my dad – we each became the Kingdom Priests we were designed to be. We laughed, we cried. We sang, we prayed. We held one another. We joined together to celebrate the last moments of his powerful life. In the moments when they removed the ventilator, we each watched the breathing slow and the heart slow. As we did, the worship music continued as we watched him be ushered into his eternal Heavenly home. And then Dante Bowe’s song “Voice of God” came on, and we knew it would be soon. The pulse paused on 22 beats per minute for several moments. Breathing non-existent. There are 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet – all must be present to relay the message. All of the adults of our family were in the room. We all had to be present to hear the message.
The lyrics to Voice of God, Dante Bowe:
“And I can hear it on the wind of an early morning,
When the fog is getting thick and the birds are chirping
Oh, it’s just something I can’t explain, no
But it makes me wanna cry
And I can hear it in the hush of a midnight hour
When I’m alone in my room, if I’m going under
Oh, I just can’t explain, no
But it brings me back to life
It’s like the sound of a newborn baby crying, yeah
Like the final breath of a loved one passing
Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, yeah
‘Cause it leads me to the light”
As the song played on, we held at 13 beats per minute – 13. In scripture the number 13 holds a similar connection to the number 8 – new beginnings. There is a great study about numerology by EW Bullinger that gives intense insight into 13. But in this day – I am going with 8 + 5 = 13. Eight meaning new beginnings and five meaning grace. This moment was definitely one of new beginnings and grace – as we watched, healed, comforted, celebrated and embraced. We prayed for grace and mercy in this moment. We begged God to bring peace and to be quick in receiving my father, and he definitely did. As He always does. And He continues to confirm His steps in us using all the ways He created.
When you lose a loved one, especially a parent, you never know all the things they did before you were born. You only know what they tell you. In navigating through his perfectly put together paperwork, we were able to see some of the many accolades He received, and never spoke of. Below I wanted to brag on my awesome dad –
“It is indeed a rare experience to be assigned such an outstanding individual as Airman Arnold…. His initiative and ability to readily comprehend carried him through a very trying time. He has amazed this individual with his intensive interest in his work. He has spent many overtime hours on his own, to achieve reporting accuracy. This zealous attention to duty is greatly appreciated by the Base Civil Engineer Cost Section and by me. Had it not been for Airman Arnold, it would have been impossible to meet the due date of the quarterly cost reports.” Department of Air Force, 1967
“It is my sincere pleasure to inform you that your son A1C Kenneth E. Arnold has been selected as George AFB Comptroller Airman of the Month for the month of April 1968. You may be justly proud of your son’s accomplishment. The criteria for selection are stringent and competition is exceedingly rigorous. Each individual selected must excel in a wide variety of areas including performance of assigned duties, initiative, job knowledge, special achievements, acceptance of responsibility, military bearing, courtesy, moral character, integrity, attitude and many others. A1C Arnold’s selection as Comptroller Airman of the Month reflects great credit upon himself and you, his parents. Again, may I offer my congratulations for our son’s very commendable achievement.” Major Saunders, USAF
“There has never been a piano player who played with such passion and talent.” Everyone he played with.
This man, our father, was truly one of a kind. I pray the life I live and the lives I shepherd are always a reflection of his life well lived.
The Journey 