A dear friend of mine and my families passed away this morning. When my parents moved to Virginia in 85 and my father started a construction business, my dad hired his first employee who just so happened to be the same man that died today. My dad was in this mans wedding. My dad worked for the man when he didn't have any work. And vice versa. I can't recall a single moment when I was in the same room as the man when he was being serious. Even when he was talking about something as serious as God, he never was super duper serious. Just mildly serious. And he'd always be cracking jokes.
Now.
You may think. "oh great he'll say 'lets take a lesson from this.'" but no. I don't like lessons. You go to Chemistry and History classes for "lessons". This man has a story. I don't even know what it is. I'm not even allowed to read his story unless he lets me. But the most beautiful thing I've realized today is that it's still being written. But even better. It's being written without any pain or trials incorporated into the script. It's being written in the most perfect handwriting. It's being written under the most elaborate scenes. It's being written by the hand of the one who created him in the first place. Kinda like that perfect book you know you have to find. So you can sit back and relax reading it under a tangerine sky. You know what I'm talking about. Anyways. It's things like these that keeps hope alive in the sense that no matter how much crap is forcefully shoved into our lives. There will be unfathomable beauty in the end.
Ecclesiastes 3:11
Look it up. And my point shall be proven.
Here's to you Dan White.
Can't wait to see you soon.
And soon it will be.
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