Going Home: A Journey's End

[Here is a link to a video tribute that I made for my dad which was played at his memorial service:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3DjZQPLhes ]

My father, Rev. Robert W. Hicks, died peacefully in the presence of family on Friday, February 27, 2009 at 11:48 pm. He was 94 years old. It was a departure for us who loved him, it was an arrival for him and all who stood waiting to greet him. A departure or an arrival depends entirely on who is travelling and where they are going. For us who were impacted by his presence for so many years, he was departing: leaving family, friends, loved ones. Leaving a wife of 65 years. Leaving his body that had carried him from the Georgia farm to the Colorado Rockies to the South Pacific to the Pacific Northwest to South Korea and all points in between. Leaving his home here that had nurtured and cared for him so well.

But for him and all those who have gone before him, and especially for his Savior whom he served so well, it was not a departure but an arrival. It was an arrival home, his true and final home. My dad lived in many places over the past 94 years. Places in Georgia where he grew up and began his ministry; places while serving his country here and overseas; places he lived with my mother while in ministry and in retirement. All of them served their purpose for a time, but they were all merely way stations along the way to a final resting place.

My father was an introvert by nature. He was never really comfortable in social settings. When he and my mom would be in someone’s home or at a social event the time would inevitably come when my dad would say, “OK, well I guess we better be getting home now.” In recent years as his mind was increasingly losing it's hold on reality he seemed to be obsessed with going home. While in his own home, with his wife and family, he would often say, “Who’s going to bring the car around so we can go home”, or he would pack a bag (usually filled with books) and say, “I’m all packed and ready to go home now.” Sometimes when I was leaving his house I would tell him that I was leaving and he would say, “Well I’m trying to leave too. Who’s going to take ME home?”

It almost seems like his whole life was spent just trying to get home.

• I imagine a young boy caked in red Georgia dirt plowing a field longing for the time when he could get back home and continue reading that Zane Grey novel.


• I picture a seminary student living in Atlanta many hours from his rural family farm house looking forward to going home and getting some real southern cooking from his mama.


• I see a young army chaplain stationed in the South Pacific knowing that his young bride was about to give birth to their first child and longing to be home with them at that moment.


• I envision a pastor who worked long hard hours in many different churches over the years looking forward to coming home at the end of the day to a house full of hugs and smiles from his wife and kids.
  

Going home is a wonderful thing. And now at last, after all these years, my dad is finally home. I’m sure that in this life the times of being able to go home was a great blessing for him. But there is nothing that can compare with what happened on Friday, February 27, 2009 at 11:48 pm. At funerals and memorial services we sometimes use the phrase “dearly departed” to refer to the one who has passed on. With my dad I much prefer the phrase “dearly arrived”. Welcome home thou good and faithful servant.

This old American folk song beautifully describes my dad’s life long journey toward home.

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Travelling through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go

Well I'm going there to meet my mother
Said she'd meet me when I come
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way will be rough and steep
But beautiful fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep

Well I'm going there to meet my loved ones
Gone on before me, one by one
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home

I'll soon be free of earthly trials
My body rest in the old church yard
I'll drop this cross of self-denial
And I'll go singing home to God

Well I'm going there to meet my Savior
Dwell with Him and never roam
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home