All things work together for good to those who love God.

My father, the Reverend David Rees, who died on September 18th, 2000

Twenty-five years ago, my father died. He was sixty-three years old. My family was blindsided by the suddenness of his demise. We later learned he had stage four lung cancer that had been growing undetected.
​
When dad began experiencing unexplained pain and breathlessness, his doctor ordered some invasive tests that disturbed a tumour and made him very sick, very quickly. When his breathlessness became serious, a good friend of his drove him to a local, convalescent hospital, which technically should not have given him a bed, as he didn't meet the patient criteria. However, dad was known and loved at the hospital, due to his ministry. He was a regular visitor to the elderly patients. The nurses found him a private room and made him comfortable. They could see he was dying. His family was called to his bedside. 

Dad was surrounded by his four daughters when he passed. Also at his bedside was my mum, from whom he had been separated for more than a decade (that's a story for another time). Briefly, the family was back together. An owl hooted through the night in the forest outside, and when dawn broke, dad slipped away. His passing was peaceful, and we were so very grateful for the dignity and kindness shown to him by the staff.

The Hospital Chapel where dad was taken after he died, to enable his parishioners to visit and pay their respects

I drove my sisters back to our dad’s house in silence, reeling from the shock. We were all in our twenties – too young to lose our father. Dad was our rock, and the scale of his loss was immeasurable. How on earth were we going to cope without him?  He had been taken from us too soon. He would never know the joy of retirement, of growing old, of reading bible stories to grandchildren. Why had God done this? Dad was a faithful, obedient servant who deserved a little more time to experience the fullness of life, or at least to watch one of his daughters get married. The unfairness of his death shrouded me like a cloak.

On our arrival at dad’s house, two pieces of mail were awaiting us. One piece of mail was a letter from the NHS (British healthcare), informing dad that his recent tests had detected cancerous cells. This didn’t come as a surprise to us, as we already knew that a terrible force had ravaged his body without warning.

The other piece of mail was much more remarkable – it was a cutting from a national newspaper called “The Telegraph”. There were two scraps of paper inside an envelope – one displayed a line of scripture that had presumably been listed in the obituaries section. The other cutting was “The Telegraph” banner, showing the newspaper’s date. The envelope had been sent anonymously. The scripture read:
 
And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.     
Romans 8:28

Somebody (we still don’t know who) delivered to us an important spiritual message. And they mailed it to the vicarage two days before dad died – he wasn’t even in the hospital at that point. That good Samaritan obeyed a Godly command that was SO specifically tailored to our needs on that difficult morning. I often wonder if this person doubted their sanity when receiving the instruction– “You want me to cut out a piece of my newspaper? And mail it to the vicar’s house? Are you sure, God?” But they obeyed. And we were so incredibly comforted by this confirmation that God has full control over all things. Whoever did this for us – Thank you.  I have thought of this moment often over the last twenty-five years.  I'm so sorry that this cutting was lost in amongst the chaos of moving dad's things from The Vicarage (the house came with dad's job, so it had to be quickly vacated). But the impact of the gesture remains as strong as it ever was. 
​
God knows what you need, well before you know it. And he’s already working on it. Keep the faith.
 
Elisabeth ​