My Friend Ken

Saturday morning, I spoke into his ears by telephone. I was informed that he would be able to hear me even as he lay there dying. As it turned out, he was less than three days away from heaven when I connected to my friend and 'one giant of a man of God'. I was able to say 'Goodbye for now". I could barely speak, trying my hardest to keep from crying. 92 years of age and 21 years my senior, and a friend of the highest kind. Less than two years ago, I wrote a piece about what "My Friend Ken" means to me. 020121cj 88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 When after I read the spirits of those I once served say to me, "Thank you. You may go now"; When after I had been cast from pillar to post and had given everything I knew to give; When I went to church with little purpose and without embarrassment for falling asleep; When I had no interest in people and headed for the exits as soon as the service was dismissed; When by the age of 44, I had faced 'rejection after rejection', "no thank you after no thank you"; When I had reached a point where there were very few things I cared anything about anymore; At that point, he set his eyes on me with a Godly love that reached deep inside of me and left no doubt that he was seeing in me what I used to see before I closed my heart and my eyes, refusing to see anymore. I wanted to ignore him, not desiring to get involved, but he believed in me and stayed the course. He simply perfected the art of befriending one who seemed to have lost his way, never trying to fix, correct, or change me. Like a young father or older brother to me, he is 90 years of age and a member of what is known as 'the greatest generation'. A devoted one name Ken is truly a 'Godsend' and has become a dear friend, helping me return to spiritual civility and purpose. 110519PoSoup