The duct tape on the presidential seal is a brilliant touch.

Please permit me one last, long, self-indulgent post about Dad. What follows is a few words about the circumstances of his home-going; The eulogy I delivered at his service yesterday; And the then a short video tribute.

The last week is a blur of activity associated with my Dad’s situation. A week ago, today we were scrambling to get him located in an Alzheimer’s facility as close to Mom as possible. Over the weekend, my brother and sister who live in the Atlanta area flew in to spend some time with him. As they did, none of us would have dreamt that we could have measured his remaining time on this earth in hours, rather than days.

Because of our closer proximity, my other sister and I had gotten a lot more time with Dad over the past few months. But these were priceless minutes for the other two.

As is often the case with those about to pass over into eternity, Dad displayed a brief surge of alertness on Saturday. It was a gorgeous day and my brother and sister wheeled him out onto the porch for some fresh air and sunshine.

In those irreplaceable golden moments, Sis held his hand and poured out the contents of her brimming heart. She reminded him of funny things he used to say to her, and he would smile or laugh at each remembrance. She expressed her love and honor and admiration and gratitude.

And when, overcome with emotion, she could say no more. He slowly, haltingly raised her hand to his lips.

Not long after that, he slipped back into sleep and, the following morning, my brother and sister began their respective journeys back to Atlanta, assuming that Dad would be with us at least a few more months if not years.

That evening I got a call from my other sister, who had just driven four hours back to her new home in Kingfisher, Oklahoma. Dad’s condition had worsened dramatically. Hospice care said he would not likely make it to morning. I threw some clothes in a gym back and headed back that way.

My brother had caught an early flight out of DFW back to Atlanta and had just arrived back at his house when I called him. He was stunned. Dad had seemed to be doing better. I suggested he stay put. Dad might rally. My sister, on the other hand, had gotten only  as far as Oklahoma City. She got back in the car and headed back.

The three of us converged on Dad’s room around 10:00 p.m., where Mother was waiting at his bedside. We turned the lights low and played some worship music through my laptop. He was more peaceful and calm than we had seen him in months. Just before 5:00 a.m. my sister, who is a nurse, said, “I think this is it.” And it was.

With his wife of 55 years holding his hand, Dad set aside mortality and put on immortality. He stepped out of time and into eternity. We each, in turn, kissed him, and then just stood around the bed not knowing what to say or do. There was something extraordinarily holy and sweet about the moment. Then my sister said, “Brother, why don’t you pray.”

I made a feeble effort to give voice to what all of us were feeling.

I thanked God for Dad’s life. For the privilege of having known him. For the sacrifices he’d made for each of us over the years. And most of all for the wonderful assurance that this separation was only for a season . . . for the knowledge that Dad was now whole and free.

Yesterday their home church was filled to overflowing for Dad’s service. I read his obituary, which I have already posted below, and then a said few additional words on behalf of my siblings. What follows is as close an approximation of my eulogy as I can muster: Continue reading →

This spot has been running on Fox News Channel:

John F. Holland, 81, Wilburton, died Monday October 11, 2010 surrounded by loved ones.

He was born in Okemah, Oklahoma on June 20, 1929, to Floyd and Lottie (Farris) Holland. He was the second-eldest of six children and grew up in and around Prague, Oklahoma. He married Betty Ruth Jackson on August 10, 1955 and together they raised four children, first in Midwest City, Oklahoma and then in Wilburton—spending more than 40 years in two homes they built on a small acreage in the Centerpoint community.

He loved his country and served her in the U.S. Army from 1951 to 1953 and in the Army Reserves from 1953 to 1956. He earned a B.S. in Biology from Central State College (now University of Central Oklahoma) and a M.S. in Biology from the University of Montana.

He loved imparting knowledge and taught science at Midwest City High School from 1959 to 1965. He joined the faculty of Eastern Oklahoma A&M College (now Eastern Oklahoma State College) in 1965, serving as head of the Biology Department until his retirement in 1984.

He loved God and was an active member of First Baptist Church, Wilburton where, throughout more than 45 years of quiet service to the Lord and His people, he taught Sunday school, sponsored Royal Ambassadors, ushered, served as a deacon, and, in the final decades of his life, traveled to disaster scenes all over America and the world through his work with the Southern Baptist Disaster Relief Team.

He loved his family and is survived by his wife of 55 years, Betty Ruth (Jackson) Holland, and their four children and 10 grandchildren—son, David Holland, his wife Tracy and their children Caitlin, Grayson and Olivia; son, John D. Holland; daughter, Elizabeth (Holland) Ray, her husband Brook, her children Kirsten, Steven, Zachary, and Brook’s son, Dakota; daughter, Laura (Holland) Harwood, her husband Adam, and their children Anna Kate, Nathan, Jonathan, and Rachel.

Surviving siblings include—brothers Elvin “Breezy” Holland, Leo Holland, Bob Holland and sister Ruth (Holland) Suggs. He is also survived by hundreds of dear friends—among them longtime colleagues in Christian service, Dr. J.N. Baker and J.C. Vester.

He is preceded in death by his father Floyd Holland, brother Alvis “Pete” Holland, and mother, Lottie (Farris) Holland.

He is with his Lord but leaves an enduring legacy of impacted lives, helped families, and countless individuals inspired and challenged by his example of selfless service.

Services will be held Wednesday, October 13, at 2:00 p.m. at First Baptist Church, Wilburton, Rev. Doug Miller officiating. Pallbearers will be the deacons of First Baptist Church and honorary pallbearers are attending members of the Oklahoma Chapter of Southern Baptist Disaster Relief.

He will be interred at Centerpoint Cemetery with all arrangements handled by Waldrop Funeral Home (1208 Highway 2 N Wilburton, OK 74578-3480 – 918-465-2228)

In lieu of flowers, the family requested that donations be made to the Southern Baptist Disaster Relief initiative or to the First Baptist Church building fund.

Oklahoma Baptist Disaster Relief

3800 N. May Avenue

Oklahoma City, OK 73112

First Baptist Church Building Fund

101 W Blair Ave
Wilburton, OK 74578-2420

God. Country. Others.

Remember “Obama Girl?” The head cheerleader for America’s “crush on Obama” back during the election of 2008? Seen her lately?

Here’s a well-produced video that does a good job of explaining in two minutes and twenty-two seconds how that crush died and why American voters are about to do a morning-after “walk of shame” to the polls in a few weeks:

Another snippet picked up from the cutting room floor:

To the lover of pure wildness, Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world.

John Muir’s Journal, 1879

On a fog shrouded morning in June of 1879 John Muir, the legendary naturalist and explorer, packed his camera, a few blank notebooks, and some camping gear and boarded the steamship Dakota sailing out of San Francisco Bay. On that day, the man whose rapturous writings about the glories of California’s Yosemite Valley and Sierra Nevada Mountains would ultimately inspire the national park movement in America, was northbound. North to the vast, mythic, unmapped expanse of Alaska.

Muir, a “lover of pure wildness” if ever one walked God’s green earth, was drawn by the tales he was hearing from traders, explorers and missionaries returning from the new northern frontier of the expanding American empire. Alaska, the recently purchased territory widely derided as Seward’s Folly was twice the size of Texas. Those who had been there came back with fantastic stories of vast virgin forests swarming with exotic animals, towering mountain ranges, fields of wild flowers stretching horizon to horizon, crystalline streams alive with red-orange salmon, and mammoth rivers of ice which flowed to the sea and crumbled into floating mountains of sapphire blue.

In the remarkable Muir dwelt the survival skills of a mountain man, the expressive soul of a poet, and the crusading mystic fervor of a holy man. And for most of the previous two decades he had focused these gifts on the singular cause of Continue reading →

Hugo Chavez continues his push to do for Venezuela what Robert Mugabe has done for Zimbabwe. Yet he remains an object of admiration among the Hollywood elite and many American Christian liberals.

Another bit of prose that ended up on the cutting room floor:

Any American who has even casually followed the news since the presidential election of 2008 can surely recite the thirty-second biography of Sarah Palin:

Grew up hunting and fishing in Wasilla, Alaska . . . co-captain on a state championship basketball team . . . Miss Congeniality in the Miss Alaska pageant . . . married handsome high school sweetheart who races snow machines . . . Mayor of Wasilla . . . youngest-ever Governor of Alaska . . . McCain’s VP nominee . . . five children, the youngest with Down’s Syndrome . . . telegenic . . . born-again Christian . . . conservative.

This Cliffs Notes-esque version of her resume is accurate but shallow. What this superficial understanding of the highlights and milestones of Sarah’s life doesn’t offer us is real insight into the questions that lie between the bullet points:

· What draws a stay-at-home mom to wade into the contentious world of local politics?

· What skills and gifts propel her rapid climb to higher offices and global visibility?

· From whence springs the drive that twice compelled her back to work, first as mayor and then as governor, within days after giving birth?

· What traits keep her in the fray after becoming the favorite mockery target of the nation’s standup comedians, fake news anchors, sketch comedy writers and left-wing bloggers; and the constant focus of vicious and bizarre conspiracy theories about her baby?

There are other questions that go beyond fascination of the People magazine variety and connect to issues that could impact the lives of every American—indeed every person on the planet. Specifically, in a season in which Sarah’s name is frequently mentioned as a contender for the presidency in 2012, we are compelled to wonder: Continue reading →

I have vivid childhood memories of my father carrying me off to bed on many weekend nights. On school nights we had to run off to bed at whatever the appointed time was for our age. But on Friday or Saturday nights or in the summer, I invariably conked out in the living room in front of the television.

At some point, I would waken a little as Dad–a lanky six-foot-two and sinewy 210 pounds–scooped me up in his arms and carried me, a limp rag doll, off to bed. Sometime shortly after my eighth birthday, that became more of a feat as we moved into the two story house out in the country that would be their home for the next 37 years.

It was not long after that move that I grew to be too heavy and those stairs too steep for Dad to provide that service any longer. But while it lasted, I loved the feeling of floating and rising up those stairs in that foggy groggy state between sleep and wakefulness.

This last Friday I scooped my father up in my arms a laid him in his new bed at the Alzheimer’s care facility that will be his home for the foreseeable future. Or at least I tried.

He has lost an astonishing number of inches from his frame, and the stresses of the battle he’s been fighting have reduced him to scarcely 150 pounds. Nevertheless, he was heavily sedated and I did not move him to his bed with the same grace and ease with which he used to do the same for me.

We are all grateful that it worked out for Dad to be in a place that is less than a 10 minute drive from Mom and the house. Will she be with him much? She is having her easy chair moved into his room tomorrow.

Hurried home that night to be ready for yesterday’s book signing event at the Mardel’s Bookstore in Hurst Texas. I was heartened and humbled by the number of friends who came out to support and well-wish, including one old buddy I haven’t seen in more than 15 years.

At church this morning I taught a class of 50 or 60 wonderfully receptive and engaged attendees on the subject of prayer.

I know every principle and precept I presented is sound and true. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but wonder, if only for a fleeting moment, if a man should be teaching others about how to get things done in prayer when he is fighting fierce battles in so many areas of his life.

But then I remembered that the Apostle Paul wrote half the New Testament from jail and that John wrote Revelation as an exiled slave in a island mining colony. And suddenly I felt like an exemplar of victorious Christian living.

I have been invited to speak this Tuesday to a small group of men from our church who are fathers of daughters and who meet together regularly to seek God’s help in that wonderful endeavor.

My advice? Love them, protect them, cover them, speak the Word over them. And by all means, carry them off to bed as long as you possibly can.

{Postcript: Dad passed quietly and peacefully fewer than 48 hours after I published the post above.}

Here’s a worthwhile piece from Powerline’s John Hindraker on the ongoing breakdown of social order south of the U.S. border. An excerpt:

The situation in Mexico is a disaster, and one that directly threatens our national security. For reasons that I don’t understand, most Americans don’t seem to care, and the Obama administration reflects that apathy. Mexico makes Iraq look like Switzerland. Iraq is, I think, important to our security, but Mexico is much more so. I don’t know what the solution is–other than the obvious, a massive application of police/military force to kill the criminals–but at a minimum, we should take notice.

(hat tip: Instapundit)