A good man has passed away.
My earliest memories of him were mostly of fright. He used to stomp around the camp, and he had this loud, intimidating voice. But through the years, you got to know and love him. Whether he was getting worked up in a preaching storm, or tirelessly rewinding up the zipline cable, it was hard not to love him.
I remember when he first got a digital camera, and ran around the camp, taking pictures of absolutely everything. He was just so delighted that if you took a bad picture, it didn't matter. Just delete it. He printed off pictures and gave them to everyone. Printing pictures off your own printer was so cheap! I still have one of the pictures he took of me riding a horse named Madeira. It's in my little photo album beside my bed.
I remember when we used to host Korean students. He would preach, and the translator wouldn't understand, and so there would be a pause as they would go back and forth and try to figure out what the other meant. It was often really funny.
I remember when he lifted me out of the water at my baptism. It was a perfect, warm, sunny day. He was smiling.
How many memories I have. He died today. A snowy road. A blizzarding sky. A vehicle not seen until too late.
Thank you for your dedicated service. Thank you for the sacrifices you made. Thank you for a life well-lived.
"And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest"