Thomo has been my father for eleven years. He led me out of boyishness and into manhood. He inspired me to take the Bible at its word. He taught me that the Bible is simple to understand but profound to plumb. He led me, watched over me, blessed me, groomed me and tailored me. I shall owe him an indistinguishable debt of thanks to the very moment I die. His courage and stance path-found for me a way I shall never depart from. He had primed me from the day I first met him for the conversation we were about to have.
It is the Woolworths Cafe, Cavendish. The air is different. He knows I am about to leave home. Prophetic fore-boding is a leadership criterion too often overlooked. If he does not know exactly, he knows largely.
Thomo, I believe my time has come. The weather-vane that has rusted fast has creaked through 180 degrees. The prophetic zephyr has changed to a stiff gale. I believe I am out of time here, overdue in some other place, hurrying to be on time for some other appointment. And I believe Singapore awaits our arrival. I am confirmed and assured that the Lord is waiting for us in Singapore.
Thomo need do no more than nod.
A godly satisfaction fell upon the conversation. We discuss, but are aware that we are trifling with the details of something that bears the stamp-print of God. It is not a foregone conclusion; God privileges us with piecing His plots together. But the die is cast.
Thomo, the captain at the helm of the good ship Church-on-Main, pronounces his blessing.
History will reveal that it was Thomo's generosity of heart and bigness of spirit that was the ignition key. He stood on the fulcrum of our futures. With his left hand he guided us out of our past; and with his right he beckoned on. I will never stop being grateful for his influence and kindness. Yet another block was in place.
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