My beloved Father died 39 years ago yesterday (on 21 February 1976) in Glasgow – at the Western Infirmary. Yesterday, he was very much on my mind. What a decent and honourable man he was, and a loving and beloved Dad, whose counsel was wise, realistic, and positive. I wish that I was even half the man that he was.
It was a Saturday – early evening – when he passed away. After the usual formalities, I took my mother home (widowed at the age of 55), and stayed with her until almost midnight.
I then drove home to my Manse – some 40 miles away – where my beloved wife (and one year old son – fast asleep) was waiting.
After talking things through for an hour or so, I went into my study and stayed up all night, writing a sermon from scratch; my organist was a wonderful, delightful, talented musician – who often was given the praise list half an hour before the service – so no problems there, with what hymns would be sung. Davie – you were wonderful, as a musician, and as a friend.
This was my first Charge and had only been there for a couple of years – so no “Golden Oldies” to rehash. I think that I finished typing my notes about 6.30 that morning.
And, in the pulpit on time on the Sunday morning. Haven’t a clue what I preached about (it’s somewhere in my files).
Then, after a snatched lunch, back down the road to Glasgow.
Foolhardy? Professional? Let the congregation down with sub-standard material? What do YOU think?P