The Miracles of Memory

      There was once a family with a Christian daughter. The mother had died while she was little. Thus, her father was left to raise her alone. Her father, however, didn't understand Christianity, nor did he take any part in it. One Sunday morning, his daughter went off to church. But before she did so, she recited to him the verses that she had memorized in the bible, and then prayed that her father would have a good day before leaving. Later that summer, she had gone to a missionary camp, leaving her father to tend to his own needs. While she was gone, her father had invited the pastor of her church over for lunch that afternoon. After their meal, he brought the pastor into his bedroom and said, "My daughter is a Christian and loves to tell me all about what she has accomplished in her faith, expecting me to understand everything. She reminds me to pray every night before I go to bed and before I eat a meal, but I just don't know how," he confessed. "What should I do? How do I pray? Is it hard?" he queried. The pastor simply chuckled, gazing into the eyes of the anxious father-holding his inquisitive look of that of a child and replied. "Praying to God, our father, can be just like talking to a person," he explained. "Many believe that you should close your eyes in respect, but it isn't necessary. Just imagine that Jesus is sitting in that rocking chair over there, and talk to him." The pastor instructed. Ending the conversation, the father thanked the pastor as he carried on his way. In the next few weeks, the father practiced praying to God before his daughter arrived home. He worked diligently with the time he had. But every now and then, he would have some trouble breathing-occasionally severe chest pains. These symptoms continues for a while longer, and then worsened towards the end of the month. A few weeks after he had picked up his daughter, he began a household ritual of prayer, and a promise to his daughter to remain faithful in their God. Not much later during that exact month, while his daughter had been asleep, he had died of a heart attack. However, no one knew of this until the next day. At the house, the daughter stared desolately at her father's motionless body and said, "At least he'll be with God and Jesus now," as tears streamed from her face like the gentle flow of a river. And lying face down with his arms tucked beneath him on the rocking chair was her father. And the only words the pastor could manage were: "What a wonderful way to die," as a tear slowly rolled from the pastor's grave, red eyes, and onto the still and peaceful figure below.

So just remember that even though our beloved ones are moving on, that doesn't mean that they are gone forever. Just like the spirit of the father would always be in his daughter's heart, there will always be a part of our beloved that will remain with us forevermore. And just like the daughter and the pastor, we know that they are in good hands. They'll always be inside of us, because our memories will keep their remembrance alive.