
On the coast of North Carolina at Wanchese, in some finger-like islands known as the Outer Banks, lives a wonderful Christian couple named Elmo and Jean Daniels. They faithfully operate WOBX radio and minister at the Assembly of Praise Church where Elmo is the pastor.
Over the past four years Elmo and Jean have experienced two heart breaking losses in their family. On Mother's Day morning in 2001, their 16 year-old granddaughter Ashley was killed instantly in an automobile accident. Then on March 17 th of this year, their son Walter—the father who had grieved his precious daughter's death so deeply—died of liver disease at age forty-nine.
I didn't know Walter Daniels, but I believe I understood some things about him. Not that I've lost a child, I haven't and I thank God for that. I'm talking about the part of Walter that had such difficulty “moving on,” “getting over it,” or any of the patent phrases people often offer the brokenhearted in an attempt to help them through the pain and mental suffering brought on by death, divorce, or extreme loss of any kind.
Walter couldn't cope with the deep sorrow of losing his beloved daughter. The pain was just too much for him to bear, so he numbed it with alcohol. At least he tried to. I can identify with his attempt to escape the trauma of such a tragedy; I've done exactly the same thing at times of sorrow in my own life. It's wrong and it costs, but I know God understands our weaknesses and fragile frame.
Rocks that they are, Elmo and Jean kept right on loving their son and encouraging him, and most of all—they prayed for Walter without ceasing.
In the years since, whenever I called to talk about music I often asked Jean about Walter. I felt for him the way anyone would a Christian brother enduring so much hurt. Even though Jean's reply was usually that he wasn't doing well, in my heart I believed the sad dad's story would have a happy ending, that Walter would make it out of the darkness.
Maybe it was because I knew he had such strong Christian parents. Or maybe it was because Jean told me Walter made a profession of faith in Christ when he was younger. Mostly, it was that I've come to really rely on God's promises—promises like the one recorded in Proverbs 3: 5-6 and elsewhere in the Bible. I'm sure it was a combination of all three things.
When Jean came to the phone for our tracking conversation in April the first thing she said was, “We lost our dear son Walter.” After expressing my sympathy, I listened as the grieving mother began to talk about her son's final days. Jean's remarks prompted me to ask her permission to share the account. There's much power and encouragement in the Daniels family's real-life story.
The medical profession did all they could do and Walter was moved from the hospital to his parent's home in Wanchese. Walter's wife agreed it would take all three of them to provide the care he needed, and Elmo and Jean's home was better suited for accommodating their terminally ill loved one.
One day as his earthly life was nearing an end, Walter asked his father to note his requests for the impending funeral. He told Elmo who he wanted to sing, who he wanted to preach, and then named the people he wanted to be his pallbearers. Walter requested that a boat and some other things of value he owned be sold to cover the costs. “His daddy wrote all of Walter's last wishes down,” Jean told me.
What she said next is the sweetest part of all. It turns a temporary sorrow into an eternal joy. Elmo Daniels, with all the love of a father and wisdom of a pastor softly said to his dying son, “It looks like you've taken care of everything but yourself Waldie.”
Then Elmo began to talk with his son about his relationship with the Lord. For years it had been pushed to a remote corner deep within Walter's aching heart—the heart battered and bruised by the pain of Ashley's death just as sure as the Outer Banks are battered and bruised by the raging storms of the Atlantic .
“Walter broke down sobbing as his daddy led him in a prayer of repentance and restoration,” Jean Daniels said.
And from that moment on his whole nature changed she shared. Gone were the bitterness and bottled-up anger. Walter had peace. A tremendous weight had been lifted from his crippled spirit. “He was able to talk about the Lord again and to tell everyone that mattered in his life, “I love you,” said Jean.
Doubt, anger, despair, and above all—the bitter question Walter wrestled with for several years asking, “Why?” All were washed away in the twinkling of an eye. Though he was dying physically, Walter was alive again spiritually. Another prodigal had come home to his Father's waiting, forgiving, forever arms!
Jean Daniels shared another thing that reveals much about the man Walter Daniels really was. After his funeral she received a letter from the girl Walter rescued from drowning thirty years before. On a fall night in 1975 Sharon Perry's car ran off the road into a body of cold, murky water. Following is a portion of what Sharon Perry Sullivan wrote to Jean Daniels:
“I just wanted you to know that because Waldie decided to plunge into the cold, dark water to see if there was anyone he could help on that October night thirty years ago, not only am I alive, but I am serving the Lord and have two incredible children, ages 18 and 20, whose lives were made possible by God's grace and Waldie's goodness .”
Mrs. Sullivan told Jean she would never forget how wonderful Walter's face looked to her when she saw him peering through the window of her submerged vehicle as he saved her life.
The most touching words of all are found in the note Jean sent me with Walter's picture and a copy of Mrs. Sullivan's letter. Though they already lived with the loss of a granddaughter and now must face life without their son, both Elmo and Jean Daniels find comfort in knowing Walter rededicated himself to the Lord before going out to meet Him face to face.
The Father, the Son, a father, a daughter—what a joyful reunion they all had in that sweet, sweet land of forever!
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