Tuesday, April 15
Drinking from Dad’s Saucer
It was dinnertime on Tuesday, July 26, 2022. The phone rang; it was Aunt Cheryl, my dad’s sister, calling to share disturbing news. At 66, my dad died unexpectedly in his sleep. She was the one to find him, and with my mom out of town on business, Lane and I were her first call. Immediately, we were charged with the grief-laden process of calling family. Whether you have been the caller or receiver of one of these calls, you know the gut-punch it can be.
The next day Lane and I drove to my hometown outside Atlanta to be with family. The subsequent days were a flurry of grief-drenched processing, planning, and sorting end-of-life matters. As family does, we staggered our way through it all.
During one of those afternoons, my sister and I put ourselves to clear shelves of the kitchen pantry, a space which had become Dad’s packrat stockpile of life’s anticipated necessities. We excavated eccentricities of all assortments-several plastic peanut butter containers washed and now collecting odd nails and screws; his robust collection of breath mints and gum; handfuls of twist-ties held together with other twist-ties; more pairs of reading glasses than any one household should have; and the anniversary card Dad had already purchased and written to my mother for their upcoming 46th anniversary-one he did not live to celebrate. We came across some silly photos of my sister on his digital camera. As we dug and discovered within those shelves, floods of childhood memories, laughter, and tears co-mingled with the findings that represented our dad–devoted husband, construction contractor, gentleman farmer, humble Christ follower.
Then we came across his wallet-brown leather rounded and worn at the corners from decades of use. Tucked within, a strip of paper folded over and creased upon itself so as to fit within a card slot. It held a simple poem-one which conveyed a profound, grace-abundant theology he lived by. One he had committed to memory decades ago and recited to us on the occasional family vacation road trips.
Drinking From The Saucer
by John Paul Moore
I’ve never made a fortune,
And I’ll never make one now
But it really doesn’t matter
‘Cause I’m happy anyhow.
As I go along my journey
I’m reaping better than I’ve sowed
I’m drinking from the saucer
‘Cause my cup has overflowed.
I don’t have a lot of riches,
And sometimes the going’s tough
But with kin and friends to love me
I think I’m rich enough.
I thank God for the blessings
That His mercy has bestowed;
I’m drinking from the saucer
‘Cause my cup has overflowed.
He gives me strength and courage
When the way grows steep and rough
I’ll not ask for other blessings for
I’m already blessed enough.
May we never be too busy
To help bear another’s load;
Then we’ll all be drinking from the saucer
When our cups have overflowed.
Ben Hartman