We had a very important lesson on death this week. Our Pastor from Ohio died last Friday. I started going to his church in November of 1997, so it's been 10 years. Wow, time flies. My husband and I met at church about a year later, when he started coming. In August of 1999, Rev. Lonnie Lyle married us. His health started to deteriorate about a year after that. In February of 2004 he was rushed to the hospital with an infection in his left leg. He woke up only to discover that it had been amputated not too far from his hip. He never fully recovered physically. Mentally, he was fine.
We moved to TN this past April, and we just didn't have the money to go up to Ohio on such short notice. I'm sad that we couldn't make it to the funeral. He was a big part of our lives. Our kids called him Papaw Pastor. He had just turned 51.
We sat the kids down and said, "You know how Pastor's been sick a lot? Well, he just couldn't get better this time. He went to Heaven to be with Jesus." B cried. C was sad that Pastor died, but happy that he could run now. :) I still don't think that T fully understands.
Later, B said, "Mommy, Pastor is taking care of the baby now." And I started bawling. (In Jan 06 I had a miscarriage. A couple months later I got pregnant with my littlest guy.)
So, that's what we did this week.