In memory of Uncle Wayne

It's the last night before we leave for our trip. I'm just thinking about my Uncle Wayne, who just passed away this evening. We knew it was coming, he was about 90 years old. Still, it's hard to go. I'll miss the funeral, I'll miss the family getting together, talking about him. I feel sad that I can't send him off in a grand way. But when I think about where I'm going and what I'm doing, I realize that his life has influenced who I am and what I do. He was a preacher like no one I've ever seen. He was a cowboy too. I loved his big booming voice, and his laughter that filled the room. I still remember the smell of Old Spice and the shiny cowboy boots he always wore. He loved people in his small home missions church. He could have preached to thousands. Instead, he preached to the few who would faithfully come each Sunday morning. Many were children he had personally picked up and brought. Some were the misfits that no other church wanted. He preached like there was no tomorrow, but he gave everything he had today. I loved my Uncle Wayne. We shared a love for horses, people and God. I still remember the last sermon I heard him preach about Mary and Martha and Lazarus. Probably about 10 years ago.

He taught me how to stay on a bucking horse, and how to preach. We went to horse shows together and enjoyed our love of horses. He always made me sing a solo when I was a child. It went something like this: "A cowgirl, a christian cowgirl...." Can't remember the rest, but he always made me sing it. Somehow I think he would be proud of me for going to the Philippines. I dedicate this trip in memory of my Uncle Wayne. A preacher, a cowboy and a wonderful uncle.