Farewell to a friend

2014 starts off with some sad news.

I've mentioned before that one of the ignition points for The Lord's Rain was the day -- two days before the deadline to have funding lined up to take over the ground floor space in our building -- that two phone calls came in. The day before, we had all of $60 set aside for the project to build showers. It was the fall of 2007 and the idea was still incubating. Barry and I had put out a "fleece", à la Gideon -- asking God for a confirming sign -- that, so long as the money was there, we had a "go" project.

And we were prepared to walk away from the idea if the money hadn't come in by mid-December.

Two days before the deadline, there were two phone calls, with pledges totaling $4,000.00. 

One of those calls came from Don Low. Barry and I looked Heavenward and said, "Right then -- we'll take that as a 'yes'."

I didn't know Don and his wife, Joyce, very well. They had been members of Westpointe when I first started going there in 2006, but they were distinctive: certainly the oldest couple there -- Don was in his late 80s at the time -- and they always wore "Sunday best" to church. Don was also distinctive for his puckish sense of humor: he told Amelia and me one time about singing in a Gospel quartet with three Baptist mates in the Royal Canadian Air Force during WW2. They never missed a chance to take the mickey out of him for being Pentecostal, and he, apparently, gave as good as he got. That sense of humor stood him in good stead through these doctrinal differences, since that group still got together to sing long after the war.

Don passed away just before New Year's at the age of 90 or 91. He was a true gentleman, and he and Joyce continued to support The Lord's Rain over the years, with prayer, quiet encouragement and timely contributions. I'm sure Don's legacy takes many forms in many different areas, but The Lord's Rain is part of it, and will stand the Downtown East Side has benefited -- and will continue to do so -- from his and Joyce's kindness, generosity and prayers.

"Thank you," somehow, doesn't begin to say it.