My dad was a man of both few and many words. He was a grand question-asker and listener to others. This was unless, of course, it was lecture time. Then he really didn't want to hear it. Explanations of poor choices were not given time on Dad's program. Redirection and forgiveness were the featured items. I resented this method until I had a household of teens. Now I resemble Dad's methods whenever I can.

I am grateful for my father. When I was young, he would make up bedtime stories for my twin sister, Carey, and me. Those were magical times. He taught us how to float off to sleep by imagining we were floating down a gentle brook. Since we grew up with such a brook in our backyard, that wasn't hard to imagine. Yet now my kids have learned that skill, without a brook, but with big, magical imaginations. Thanks, Grandpa.

Dad had been ill on and off for the last two years. Cancer, heart disease, more cancer, and a difficult fall that broke his ankle, hurt his knee, and left him unable to walk. He spent the summer at a rehabilitation facility. The nurses there all loved my dad. Recently someone said, "Did you love him because he was a good storyteller?" (For that he was.) "No," the answer came slowly, "it was because he let us tell our stories."

Ah, that's the legacy I would like to leave. Not to be a storyteller, but to allow others to tell their stories. And to listen, really listen. Like my dad.

It was a privilege to be with my father during the last week of his life here on earth. I arrived in Connecticut on a Friday, and he died the following Friday. The purpose of my visit was to attend my niece's bridal shower, and to celebrate my Mom's 80th birthday festivities. At least, that's what I thought the purpose of my visit was. Clearly, God had bigger plans, plans I couldn't have anticipated or imagined.

There's a bumper sticker that says, "Life is what happens when we're making other plans." But in my mind, I've edited it to say, "God is what happens when we're making other plans." You see, the shower had been scheduled for a later weekend to accomodate my speaking schedule. Then, the speaking event cancelled unexpectedly. It was the first time that had happened to me, and it shook me up. We decided to move the shower forward, which was a bit of a pain. But it seemed right to have it earlier, even, dare I say, necessary to have it earlier. Therefore, we were able to celebrate our happy events before the mourning began. God knew. He indeed orchestrates down to the finest detail...our schedule, our lives, our deaths. I am so grateful that I believe that and that I see my God in action.

There's more to tell, from the storyteller's daughter, but today I find myself sad and lethargic and oddly out of words. I loved my dad, and I always will. I'm so glad he is at peace, with his characteristic big smile, and his listening ears, and his stories to tell. I will look forward to seeing him again, in eternal life, and in God's perfect timing.