Living in the Shadow

On Friday morning, July 9, I got the phone call nobody wants. My dad had collapsed at home and was being rushed to the hospital. He wasn't responding. Hurry. He died before I could get there.

This past week has been a blur. I've felt a strange mixture of gratitude and void. While my dad seemed much healthier than the average 81-year-old, the effects of Alzheimer's had been taking more and more of him away from us over the past 4 years. Though his death had been sudden, my grieving started years ago. Anxiety about what might come next was replaced by the relief that he had gone quickly & painlessly. Yet, that calm assurance does little to fill the piercing sense of finality.

I'm still sorting through my feelings and learning to go forward from this point. I've been touched by the outpouring of love and amazed by how many others have had similar experiences. I still wish everyone could have known my dad like I did.

Seventeen years ago I wrote the article below in the church paper introducing my dad. He was preaching for me while I was on vacation and I wanted them to know more about him. I'd forgotten all about the article, but dad had saved it. Just 2 months ago, mom and dad ran across it, and we read it together again. Life was very different in 1993, but these words and my feelings haven't changed.

While I'm bound to discover new emotions as I continue to grieve, I have no regrets because my dad knew how I felt. Now you do too.

"All of my life it seemed like everyone knew my dad. With a father who started churches throughout the south and brothers ministering in Tennessee and Japan, he's always had a rich heritage in the church. His lifelong dedication to Cincinnati Bible College & Seminary (now Cincinnati Christian University) has created friends and acquaintances around the world. I can't remember any vacation we took, no matter how far we got from home, when dad didn't meet somebody he knew.

"Growing up a preacher's kid didn't ruin me (maybe a few dents!). I couldn't tell you a word from any of his sermons, although all three of us boys dutifully lined the pew each Sunday. I can recall clear images of him standing in the pulpit of that old, country church or surrounded by walls of books while he studied late at the desk in our basement. He was always prepared. Gentle. Reliable.

"There was a time I feared I'd never escape his shadow. After fathering three boys, he figured someone had to carry his name. Guess who got it? Andrew EARL. At church, everyone told me I'd be a fine preacher... just like my dad. At school they called me 'Reverend,' even though the clash with my lifestyle was obvious and intentional. I'm still not sure why, but I even attended 'his' college. Always in the shadows, yet I was determined to make a name for myself.

"You see, his style wasn't flashy enough for me. Why couldn't he be more aggressive? I was to be a leader. A world-changer. No question about it, I had it all figured out. Through it all, dad was gentle and reliable, helping me to prepare.

"Well, now I'm the father and preacher. I know the shadow is gone because I feel the heat of responsibility and pressure. Even though I might long for his protection again, it's my job now. So what kind of man will I be? What image do I want my girls to recall? More and more I've been thinking -- gentle, reliable, always prepared. Other heroes have come and gone, but dad's mark will never be lost.

"I realize now the shadow I felt growing up was actually the shade he provided from the scorching heat. He watched over me with the same gentleness he used in all of life. He believed in me. Where other kids are forgotten or scorned, I was loved. Some are left searching, but I always had instruction. With extreme patience he turned my insecurities into faith. I could count on dad.

"There will never be any monuments erected to Earl Sims. That's OK. Quiet satisfaction of a job well done would please him more anyway. But if I could just live in his shadow -- develop that servant's heart -- my life would be a legacy of his love."