Pastor Tom had a smile at the ready and pocketful’s more to share. In joyful moments and in crisis his hands were ready to help or lift you up in prayer.
For a season I lived in the world Pastor Tom helped create. Our lives centered around the church, school, and mission that he helped build. We did life with the families he brought together. The church he ministered to became my family, my home, and the safe space that my children grew. I rejoice in the experience of having lived in the community that Pastor Tom shepherded. I will be forever blessed to have experienced the unique and precious microcosm of Crossroads.
Pastor Tom ministered with his whole life. He had a twinkle in his eye for everyone. He served in real practical ways. And he made himself at home in my life. We often prayed in my home around the kitchen table that he refinished himself during one of his many extended stays.
He spoke with his hands, wore a consistent grin, had a story at the ready, and carried himself with a steadiness that was always reassuring. He lead Bible study in my home and others, mission trips to India, a faithful congregation, strangers in crisis, and his family.
He grieved the loss of his wife Esther out loud and publicly in a way that made it feel safe to express my own suppressed grief. He contributed to my book 360 Degrees of Grief and often shared what I wrote about his wife Esther.
Together we traveled half way around the world, experienced Ayurvedic treatments, sang and rejoiced while ministering to orphans and the abandoned. And around the world he left behind countless others who continue to be equipped to serve in his footsteps.
He was a giant in our lives. We broke bread across the world, in my home, and at the Applebee’s that served as his personal dining room. We laughed easily and often together.
When my heart was breaking, Pastor Tom was there. When I wrestled with life, Pastor Tom was there. When I rejoiced, Pastor Tom was there. When I drove away from my home in Portland it was with a fresh Pastor Tom bunny drawn on my hand and tears in my eyes.
He acknowledged seeing the edges of what no one else dared to speak of happening in my home. He assured me that I was not crazy. He gently pried back the protective armor I encased myself in and applied a healing balm of understanding and knowing.
He prayed over the phone with me while I absorbed the news of my mother’s imminent death. He loved and ministered to my kids well. He proudly accepted the fur covered clothes that came with the adoring affection of my animals.
I am assured that he is dancing in the very heaven he dreamed of beside his beloved Esther. He didn’t fear heaven, he revealed in it. I’m certain the gates of heaven were crowded with the eager hands of all those that he ministered to throughout their lives and at their death beds and his loved one who proceeded him on the journey. In my minds eye he has his arms open wide, pen in hand, and his smile is permanently glowing.
Pastor Tom adopted all ways of communication with open arms and avidly shared on Facebook. His last post just a few days before a catastrophic brain stem bleed became his exit route to heaven he reshared a Facebook memory:
While looking through some cute pictures of my great-grandson from a few years back I was reminded of a great passage of scripture I was re-reading recently from Proverbs 3:21-26: The Message
It is particularly applicable today with so much frenzied worrisome and frustrating communication coming at us from many directions:
‘Dear friend, Guard clear thinking and common sense with your life; don’t for a minute lose sight of them. They’ll keep your soul alive and well, they’ll keep you fit and attractive. You’ll travel safely, you’ll neither tire nor trip. YOU’LL TAKE AFTERNOON NAPS WITHOUT A WORRY, YOU’LL ENJOY A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP. No need to panic over alarms or surprises, or predictions that doom’s day is just around the corner, because God will be right there with you and he’ll keep you safe and sound.’
AMEN AND AMEN!!!
A Pastor Tom bunny will forever be tattooed on my heart.
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