This piece from my dear friend (and fellow bandmate) Heather was discovered tucked away in my calendar, in preparation for posting during Holy Week. When I found it and saw the publish date of April 17, I realized the Lord had provided yet again in an unexpected way. Yesterday, Thursday, April 17 was the day of my dad’s funeral. Months ago, we had no clue. Thank you Heather, and thank you Jesus.
Trees
by Heather Toews
The tree was dazzling...
radiant...
unlike any she'd ever seen!
She approached. The leafy green edges produced a most potent fragrance. She took a deep breath of it's power.
In what seemed like moments...paradise faded behind her. The dazzling, powerful angels held their swords to barricade the garden entrance. She was left with only a promise. A promise she did not deserve.
She felt her belly...
the movement...
could it be the one?
The One to lift the curse, to right her wrong, forgive her arrogance? Time proved otherwise and a grave was her answer. A boy gone too soon. It was hard to breathe.
She felt her belly...
excitement...
the dazzling angel...
He had told her she would carry the One. God's Son! She breathed in the relief for her people.
She felt her belly...
it was tight...
tight with knots...
...knots big enough to take her breath away. Her precious boy, the One who had spread only peace was suffering the curse He did not deserve.
The tree was horrific...
disgusting...
hewn for torture...
To see Him hanging upon it made her ache. Her knees collapsed. She felt strong arms supporting her, it was John. She felt kind eyes on her, it was Christ.
An angel was sent...
John was ready...
his pen and heart longing...
...longing to tell God's people the end of the story. John wrote. John prayed. John prayed that every soul reading would believe in the Word made flesh.
"Then the angel showed me a river with the water of life clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. It flowed down the center of the main street. On each side of the river grew a tree of life, bearing twelve crops each month. The leaves were used for medicine to heal the nations. No longer will there be a curse upon anything. For the throne of God and of the Lamb will be there, and his servants will worship him. And they will see his face, and his name will be written on their foreheads." Revelation 22: 1-4
Heather Toews hails from the gorgeous Adirondack region of New York state. Happily, she has called Kentucky home for over two decades. She is a registered nurse and a nature junkie! She is an amazing musician and violinist and enjoys cooking, reading and family time.
Praises
Friends and family gathered today to celebrate my Dad’s latest promotion. So grateful for his life well-lived and for many well-wishers who supported us from near and far.
The dogwoods are showing off around here—it’s springtime in this hemisphere.
A church has found a new pastor.
A woman in her eighties continues to fight, and beat cancer.
Gluten-free apple fritters! Thank you Pat Ham!
Prayers
A young man seeks treatment for a collapsed trachea. We pray for complete healing.
Prayers for traveling mercies.
A little girl struggles with whooping cough.
A man’s brother suffers from depression, anxiety and the urge to self-medicate with alcohol.
Quests
Words prepared for my father’s celebration yesterday. His quest in life was the one we celebrate especially at Easter—God’s quest to bring us all Home.
None of us choose the family we are born into. Of the Hill’s three children, I was privileged to enter this world on the other side of it, in the Philippines, during their first term as missionaries. It was the same four-year term in which my father lost both his parents, unexpectedly. I believe that loss left him profoundly aware that life is brief, and no day, or relationship can be taken for granted.
My dad loved to be productive—make each day count. He traveled often, coming home with some treat and stories of the long hike into the mountains, the gigantic python stretched across the logging road that he drove over—the nipa hut where he spent the night, the amazing festival Filipino believers out in the hinterlands pulled together and shared to celebrate the birth of Christ.
He was driven to work. You can tell by looking at his obituary. He did not vacation well -- but he also enriched our lives with learning and fun.
Our house was filled with all kinds of books and music and often guests. We played badminton in the backyard, or aimed for the old basketball hoop in front, in a game of Horse. He taught me how to play tennis, and even better, ping-pong. Sometimes in the evenings we played Rook. “NEVER lead with a ten,” still rings in my head.
Bedtime stories were his forte and he would turn on the ceiling fan, assure me the giant black and yellow spider in the coconut tree outside my window was not going find me in the night and tell the next installment of “Cactus Pete,” a cowboy-inspired figment of his imagination.
Later, I remember a story he told from his own childhood. One day he remarked to his siblings that he had held a delightful conversation with the lady who helped the family with household chores when he encountered her in town one day. One of them said, “How did you know it was her?” (the woman was Black). My dad was astonished. Of course he knew her. From an early age, he looked beyond the packaging to the person inside.
Coming of age through the birth pangs of the Civil Rights movement, my dad wanted to see justice done. Just a few years ago he shared some of the struggles he faced as a young pastor in San Antonio when some of the white members did not want to attend a church where people of color were welcome. He wept when he told that story.
Dad changed his position on some things over time. His ability to look beyond the package to the person inside led him to advocate for women in ministry—in official roles even, oh my. He preached his daughter’s deacon ordination service right here in this sanctuary. My father was deeply understanding and accepting of those in the LGBTQ community. He even stopped voting Republican—but don’t tell anyone I said that. Whether anyone agreed or not, he followed his conscience, without apology.
After a career that took him around the world and back several times, my folks settled here in Lexington. I will forever be grateful to you good people here at Calvary who have befriended them and blessed them again and again and again. Thank you. I especially want to call out the “Listening Ears Club” – you know who you are. Folks who took the time to sit and listen, and affirm stories told, and re-told and re-told again from a long, rich life.
It is hard for a strong man to die. I really thought we had months ahead of us though the quality of life prospects did not look good. When the call came last week, Wednesday April 10, that our options were either aggressive treatment or palliative care, I was grateful the entire family agreed it was time to let this good man rest. Even then, the doctor said he might linger for months. Praise God for his mercy in taking Dad home early the next morning: Thursday, April 11, 2025.
My reading the morning of April 9 was from Psalm 90 –
Here are a few words that stood out to me from this prayer of Moses, the man of God:
Our days may come to seventy years,
or eighty, if our strength endures;
yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow,
for they quickly pass, and we fly away.
11 If only we knew the power of your anger!
Your wrath is as great as the fear that is your due.
12 Teach us to number our days,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
13 Relent, Lord! How long will it be?
Have compassion on your servants.
14 Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.
15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
for as many years as we have seen trouble.
16 May your deeds be shown to your servants,
your splendor to their children.
17 May the favor[a] of the Lord our God rest on us;
establish the work of our hands for us—
yes, establish the work of our hands.
Finally and forever—David Leslie Hill, -- our dear Les—is absolutely more.
Until next week,
May the peace that passes understanding be upon you.
With love,
Jana
