Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin’ for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin’ for to carry me home.
My mom’s dad, D-Daddy, was always one of my all-time favorite people. I probably only saw my grandparents once or twice a year growing up since they lived in Kentucky. And it was easy to idolize someone who is several states away. I know I’ve talked against putting people on pedestals, but I think this man just outlasted all his chances to really blow it. I absolutely adored him and always have.
My earliest memory of him is sitting on the front porch swing at my parents’ house. Apparently I was quite a chatterbox as a toddler. (Shocking, I know.) But I guess I would stop for breath long enough for D-Daddy to bust into that old hymn when he and I were on the swing together.
I looked over Jordan and what did I see,
Comin’ for to carry me home?
A band of angels comin’ after me,
Comin’ for to carry me home.
I had no idea what he was singing about. Didn’t know what a chariot was, but I figured it had something to do with cherries, which I liked. I didn’t know the name Jordan, but I always pictured Gordon from Sesame Street. The band of angels sounded good too. I would just lean on him as a little bitty kid and listen to him sing.
One time when my big sister and I were still small enough to occupy his lap at the same time, the three of us sat in my dad’s chair in the family room. My parents and grandmother (Me-Mommy) were in there too and D-Daddy worked incredibly hard to get through Dr. Suess’s book of tongue twisters, Oh Say Can You Say. We all laughed so hard we cried.
I’m sometimes up and sometimes down,
Comin’ for to carry me home.
Still my soul is heaven bound,
Comin’ for to carry me home.
As I got older, I still loved to listen to him sing. I would always try to sit next to him in church for that very reason. I remember sharing a hymnal with him for When the Roll is Called Up Yonderand When We All Get to Heaven. Good old Baptist hymns, you know. And it wasn’t that he was this amazing singer. But when he sang, he wasn’t just reading the lyrics off a page. He meant every word. I could feel it. I always was a sucker for sincerity.
If he was in town and I was heading out with friends or on a date, I’d go kiss him goodbye and he’d whisper, “Act like you got some sense,” with a smile. Always made me laugh. I didn’t actually have to HAVE sense, I just needed to act like it. And I did. Well, sometimes. And then he’d always say, “I love you thirty,” which meant a lot. (I recently heard him say that to Me-Mommy and she snapped back, “Well, that’s not enough!” and they both laughed.)
D-Daddy had a special relationship with my dad. A lot of father-in-law/son-in-law relationships are like Archie Bunker and Michael/Meathead, but not this one. They were partners in crime for as long as I can remember. D-Daddy was always up for any adventure Dad could come up with. And trust me, that’s saying a lot.
We were getting family portraits taken one time in Kentucky when all of Me-Mommy and D-Daddy’s kids and grandkids were there. The photographer suggested a picture of just D-Daddy and his sons. Right before he took the picture, D-Daddy said, “Wait. Dan, come in here,” and waved my dad over. I’ll never forget that.
If I get there before you do,
Comin’ for to carry me home,
I’ll cut a hole and pull you through,
Comin’ for to carry me home.
D-Daddy and Me-Mommy were crazy about each other. They were married over 60 years and their affection for each other was always obvious. D-Daddy would shuffle on his walker across the room to get a kiss from his sweetheart. At his age, every step took effort, but to him, it was worth it.
They always danced every chance they got. D-Daddy’s surprise 70th birthday party. The party for their 50th wedding anniversary. My wedding. Always jitter-bugging. There are so many pictures of them dancing.
D-Daddy’s blessings at meals were the best. I actually printed it out and had a copy framed for both of my sisters. “Our Father in heaven, we thank Thee for the gifts Thou hast bestowed upon us. Guide and direct us through life. For Christ’s sake, amen.” In the last several years, he added, “And thank You for Bet,” at the end, talking about MeMommy.
If you get there before I do,
Comin’ for to carry me home,
Tell all my friends I’m comin’ too,
Comin’ for to carry me home.
I made a last-minute trip up to see them back in October. Neither one of them had been feeling great that week and I hadn’t seen them in a couple years because of, well, life. So I hopped on a plane, giving them only a few hours notice that I was coming.
It was so good to be there.
I flew into Lexington and began the hour drive deep into the Kentucky countryside. The land of tobacco and bourbon. (Did you know that 93% of all the bourbon in the world is made in Kentucky? Yeah, I know that because I’ve been to almost every distillery in the state. D-Daddy actually went to school with a guy in the Jim Beam family.)
Hadn’t been to their house in three years. I was struck fresh by the beautiful rolling hills and the blue-green grass. Also, they have fall up there. Real fall where the leaves actually change. Breath-taking.
I walked in the back door and about scared D-Daddy to death. Either he didn’t hear when they told him I was coming or he forgot. But whichever it was, it ended up being a huge surprise. He told me several times, “You shocked the hell outta me.”
Well, I just couldn’t get enough of them. The TV was always on either Fox News or football. There were lots of naps, which was fine by me. We looked through old pictures and told old and new stories.
One morning after breakfast, D-Daddy fell asleep in his chair and I sat next to him on the couch and read a book. It was a sweet, peaceful moment and I just enjoyed being near him.
Several times while he was sleeping, his dentures would slip down in his open mouth and it looked really funny. I smiled sadly and thought, Things just don’t fit very well down here anymore, do they, D-Daddy?
Leaving was really hard, as I expected. I tried to get all my tears out in the shower that morning so I wouldn’t cry when I was saying goodbye. I managed to trip over a few more as I was packing up. I sat down in the rocking chair in my mom’s old room and looked heavenward with weepy eyes.
Lord…?
I’m here. I have filled this house with My presence. I’ve got them, My child. I’ve got them.
I nodded, took a deep breath and finished gathering up my stuff.
I hugged my beloved grandparents goodbye and told them how much I loved them. I whispered to D-Daddy, “I love you a hundred.”
As I drove back to the airport, I thought about D-Daddy and what a great life he’d had (which he said all the time). Youngest of ten kids during the Great Depression. He belonged to the Greatest Generation. Signed up for the army and served during World War II. Came home. Married a MUCH younger woman. Made some good investments. Started several successful businesses. Was a volunteer firefighter. Active in his church and community.
He was a living picture of faithfulness. To his family, his friends, his work, his God. He said that he decided he would live to be 100. Well, God had other plans, as He often does. As D-Daddy started slowing down in recent years, he would say, “It’s hell being 25 in a (however many)-year-old body.” Now his soul and his body match perfectly and he is more alive than he has ever been.
I know I’ll always remember him and talk about him as larger than life, revered to legendary status along with my great-grandmother, Mama Joyce, whose company I know he’s enjoying again now. (She always was one of his biggest fans.) He didn’t cure cancer or write the great American novel. But instead of chasing visions of grandeur, he was a faithful steward of everything he was given. He served his country, his family and his God with little fanfare. But I know he received some serious rewards in heaven and those will last forever.
God loves for us to dream big with Him and live our lives to the fullest. But that doesn’t always mean fame and fortune, Twitter followers and huge platforms. I think the Lord has a special place in His heart for those of His kids who fly under the radar of the world’s acclaim and simply handle. Their. Business.
You nailed it, D-Daddy. I love you a hundred.
Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin’ for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin’ for to carry me home.
