John

My name is John Anderson. I felt the presence of God when, in the span of less than 10 months, both of my parents died. I suppose that the death of one’s parents is seldom viewed as a sign of God’s presence. It was the sequence of events, that left me feeling God’s presence and His peace.

It started in May of 2002 when we were driving home from Minneapolis. My sister Janet from Ohio called my cell. Our mom was hospitalized with a blood clot in her leg. She would be in a Sioux Falls hospital for a few days and then moved to a care facility for rehabilitation and physical therapy. Since my 86-year-old father was no longer driving, Janet said she would take time off from teaching her last days of the school year to be with Dad. I proposed another plan. Why don’t I go for now, and she can come after the school year is over. So when we got home, I packed my bags and headed to the farm near Sioux Falls.

My Dad and I spent the next week together doing ordinary things. Preparing meals, shopping for groceries, doing little jobs around the house, reminiscing, and of course traveling the 20 miles to see Mom every day. She was doing well and was very determined to do whatever the doctors prescribed so that she could go home. Little did I know that spending that week with my father would be a precious gift...to me.

Janet finished the school year and drove to South Dakota and I returned to my home in Iowa.

In mid-June, I made a return trip to South Dakota for a family reunion. My daughter Debby accompanied me. We had a great time visiting, looking at old pictures, and reminiscing with cousins, aunts and uncles that we had not seen for some time. We toured the site where my great, great grandfather homesteaded after immigrating from Sweden in the 1870’s. My mom was still working hard to complete her rehabilitation, but was unable to attend the family reunion. She got approval to go home soon afterward.

When Debby and I returned home and shared some of the stories about our family history, my son Tom and his girlfriend Anna, decided that they should go to see Grandpa and Grandma over the 4th of July weekend. They were expecting our first grandchild in a few more weeks and Anna had not met my Mom and Dad. My parents welcomed Tom and Anna, and when my Dad learned that she was due the first week of August, he pointed out that August 1st was his birthday, and said that would be a good day for their baby and his great grandson to be born.

Just the following week, my sister Barbara called me to tell me that Dad was in the hospital. He had what the doctors called a mini-stroke. He was doing okay and hoped to go home in a few days. A couple of days later, just a little afternoon, Barb called me again. Dad had another stroke, and this time it was a little more serious. He was conscious, but would need more time and treatment in the hospital. She promised to let me know of any changes in his condition. I called Linda at work to tell her what had I learned from Barb. I then went to my workshop in the garage and took up where I had recently left off, working on the cradle that I was making for our first grandchild. Working with my hands was just what I needed to think things through. After a short while, I went back into the house and called Linda to tell her that I’m going to go to Sioux Falls. I packed a bag and hit the road.

Barb had told me which hospital Dad was at and had given me the room number. I arrived just about the time that visiting hours were over for the day, but as I approached the room, several family members were standing around the door to his room, saying good night. As I greeted them I heard my Dad say, “Is that John?” It was great to know that he could recognize me by my voice. We visited for a few minutes and then I wished him a goodnight, and promised to see him tomorrow. However next morning my Dad was unconscious after suffering from bleeding on his brain. That day was filled with waiting, hoping and praying.

On the following morning, July 13, 2002, I awoke to see two texts on my phone. My new grandson was born a little after 2:00 am and my father had passed a little after 6:00 am. Although it wasn’t exactly as my Dad had hoped for, it seemed as if God had made a special effort to connect the lives of my father and my grandson.

Fast forward less than 10 months, on April 30, 2003. I had been at church for choir practice. When I got out and checked my phone, I had several missed calls. When I returned a call to Linda, she told me that my brother had stopped by my mom’s house to check on her and found her sitting in a chair unresponsive and could not be revived. I went home, packed my bag and started the four-hour trip to South Dakota. I drove in silence for almost three hours, just wanting to think. When I finally decided to turn on the radio, the first thing I heard was Sarah McLachlan singing the closing words to her beautiful song “Angel.”

“You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here”

Once again, I felt that God was giving me a message that my mom was now in His care, where she needed to be.