The Man in the Knit Hat

The man was getting older. He wore a knit hat and set comfortably in the aged, but not quite ragged chair. He sat there staring through large framed eye glasses with a half-smile on his mouth and a full one in his eyes. Those eyes had seen good times and bad. They had seen his own suffering and those around him. They were the eyes of a servant. One who had spent his years caring much more about others than he did himself. A man who had dedicated his life to help save souls and give others hope. Those eyes could be stern, but never cruel. He had lived long enough to know what life was all about. He knew somethings were too good to be true and knew that the world was not in the practice of handing out favors. He also knew that God was no respecter of persons, but sometimes looking at his blessings this could be hard to believe. He wasn't rich. The money he made went to others for support or donation. He had the kind of blessings every child of God either longed for or already had. He had his love, both that which he gave and received. He had a beautifully wonderful bride who had been by his side for almost fifty years. He could rest comfortably knowing they would have all of eternity. He had four children who loved him very much. His grown sons did not mind kissing their blessed father in public. He was loved by many Christians throughout the country. He had left his mark on a number of congregations throughout this country and beyond. The marks were not scars, they were emblems of loving service and tender dedication. He is the best man I'll ever know. He is my father, my guide, my protector and friend.