BST's Blog

I'm going to borrow from something I wrote last October and edit it a bit for today's entry...

Fourteen years ago today, my father died. That day is embedded in my memory. I had a very real Holy Spirit experience that morning and knew he was not well, so instead of going to the Sunday morning assembly, I went straight to the hospital. He had been fine the day before. Upon my arrival, it was obvious that he was not fine. While there were moments of laughter and sharing with him that day, he was near the end.

Gradually, the word got out and friends began to spill into the room. By that evening, we had college students up and down the corridor praying, singing, whispering and sometimes laughing. So many faces are etched in my memory.

Around my dad's bed were people like my crazy aunt Dot (his sister), my grandmother, my mom, Sally Gary, Paula Agnew, Shane Holland, and others. I was at the foot of his bed watching his labored breathing and rubbing his feet. We were all telling stories and laughing. I know Dad could hear and was probably loving every minute--AND wishing he could interject.

That night, a little after midnight, he took his last breath. I just stared at him. I couldn't believe it was over. He was definitely gone. It was both a deeply spiritual moment and also extremely frightening. I didn't feel ready. I WASN"T ready. It was so surreal.

We left the hospital and the Harold and Jeannette Lipford met us at our house. Brent McCall drove me there and stayed that night. We sat around and talked and I kept feeling like I was outside myself just looking and watching everything going on.

The next day, my roommates and I cried together. Stephen, Craig and Chris had walked with me through much of his illness. I wouldn't have made it without friends like them. Kyle, Shane and Brent had listened to me and eased my fears many times. Paula, Shelly and Trish had prayed so ferverently for him. Mom and I were surrounded with community. The Lorenzes were closer than family to us. They held our arms up.

Days and weeks went by. I dove even deeper into school, covering my pain with trying to make a 4.0 and doing every social activity possible. I had no context for how to deal with something like that. Eventually, it caught up to me. There was community then too. Praise God.

As I look back over the last 13 years, I see how God walks with us--even through the valley of the shadow of death. Even on days when my lack of faith wouldn't allow me to say "I'm not afraid", he was STILL with me. His rod and staff comforted me. He has led my mom and me beside still waters and allowed us to drink from the bounty of His goodness. He has warmed our hearts and filled our emptiness in ways we could never have dreamed.

I don't like it when this date comes around every year, but it forces me to remember how God walked us through such a difficult time. He is good. And...maybe the best thing I learned, He is PRESENT. His abiding presence does not depend on whether we feel Him there or not. He's there. His goodness is not dependent on how we feel about life. He's always good. His faithfulness is not contingent on our faithfulness. He's always faithful. Death is not the final chapter. There's more. He is the Father of the fatherless and He writes our names on the palms of His hands. I am a rich man because of the love He's allowed me to know.

Thanks Dad (and MOM!) for pointing me to Him. You laid a foundation that He has strengthened even through hardship. I miss you, Dad. I wish you were here today. There'd be so much to talk about. So much to laugh about. You'd love Sheryl. She's YOU in so many ways. You'd love Otter Creek. You'd adore these girls. You'd be amazed at this little guy who bears your name. We miss you and thank God for the legacy of faith you left for us.



After Dad died, the Abilene Independent School District built a school and named it after him. Here's a picture-



What's amazing to me is that for the first time in 14 years, there's a new Sam Thomas in our house. There's a new spirit of joy. There's a spirit of adventure implanted genetically by his grandfather and by his Heavenly father. Look at his eyes--ready to take on the world!! God has truly blessed us. Dad--I wish you could see him! He's a gift!

Two nights ago I went into the girls' room to get one last look before bed (it was around 10:30 or so). Maddie was wide awake so I laid on her bed and she asked me when we'd get to see "Poppy". It brought tears to my eyes. I reminded her that he was in Heaven. She said, "I know that, Daddy, but when is he coming back??" Then she began to process some about death and cancer and asked some really good questions. It's both wonderful and painful to talk about it with them. I know they'll experience loss in their lives, but I'd love to protect them from it. They'll know pain and hurt sooner than I'll ever be ready for them to. I just hope they'll hear those words from the 23rd Psalm that they've known since they could talk echoing in their heads.

We love you, Dad! I think about John Mark Hicks' interpretation of Hebrews 11 and think about you joining us in worship...a part of the great cloud of witnesses. What a powerful thought.

Also, my mom has written a moving blog today about my father.