It was in a little tavern on Main Street in a small town in Wisconsin. Little hands tugged at the rough sleeve of a work shirt that had been out in the hot sun all day—working on the railroad tracks.
“Daddy! Come on home! Mommy has supper ready—it’s getting cold! She says, ‘Come home!’ "
My dad worked hard and at the end of the day usually ended up in the little tavern. He usually came home within an hour, but sometimes it was after many hours, and then he was so drunk he shouldn’t have been driving the Model A Ford.
On those nights when he didn’t come home, Mother’s sad face would turn to me and she’d say, “You’d better get Dad from the tavern.”
If I was successful in getting him out of the tavern, I would follow him to the car, but I rarely rode home with him. Afraid to ride with him, I’d run home through the alleys and across the field.
Our large family knew what it was to be poor and to receive welfare aid. Mother had all she could do to cook, clean, patch and sew for so many, and make do with so little. As soon as we were big enough, we had to pitch in and help—carry wood and water and tend the garden. During all those years Dad drank away too much of what he earned.
Praise God! It was Sunday night, and the family had just returned from the gospel service. Two evangelists had been holding a series of gospel meetings in Blue River, and three of our family had already confessed the Lord as Saviour—myself, my brother Louie, and Mother. This was to be Dad’s night! He had attended many meetings of this series, and the Holy Spirit had strongly convicted him of sin.
Louie and I were upstairs when we heard loud talking downstairs. We tiptoed to the top of the stairs to listen. Suddenly Daddy called up the stairs: “Louie! Buddy! Come down!”
We got down there to find them rejoicing, with tears in their eyes.
Dad threw his arms around us saying, “I just got saved! The evangelist had preached from Luke 19, about Zacchaeus who climbed the tree to see the Lord. And I heard the Lord say to me, ‘Henry, come down!’ I came down, and the Lord saved me!” What a time of rejoicing we had!
Then Dad said, “I feel so clean on the inside, I think I’ll take a bath so I’ll be clean on the outside, too!”
Shortly after that he went to his overalls, brought out all his tobacco, went out to the wood-burning kitchen stove, and threw everything into the flames. Praise God! The next morning the two evangelists stopped by and joined in the rejoicing. Dad was bubbling! His cup was full and running over!
Ten years had passed away since salvation had come to our family. I had moved away to Michigan. One summer’s night when we were sleeping the phone woke us up with its insistent ringing. Louie’s wife came on the phone with the almost unbelievable words, “Mother and Daddy are gone!”
“Gone?” I answered. “Gone where?”
“They are gone—they’ve been killed!” A head-on crash—just three short miles from the little house where they both were saved!
God gave grace at the funeral—over 300 heard the gospel preached by two Christian men. Two caskets —side by side—Mother and Dad! They’re gone from this scene, but, praise God, they’re at home in heaven with the Lord. What a victory! What great things God has done!
— Listening
ML-12/03/1978