I was packed for a cruise to the Bahamas when I got the call: Daddy died of a massive heart attack. Details were sketchy, but his last minutes on earth were spent snow-blowing his driveway. This month marks one year since he left.

I repacked my suitcase to accommodate the New Hampshire winter, but kept my flip-flops, shorts and suntan lotion in there just in case I could still make my once-in-a-lifetime cruise—Daddy would have wanted me to go.

Everything was right where he left it. His coveralls, gloves, boots and hat lay right inside the front door of the cozy cabin tucked into the White Mountains where my parents retired in 1988. He didn’t need them anymore. His camera sat on the floor just inside the door; the last things his eyes saw that day captured in snapshots he took of the pure white snow surrounding the place he loved.

We learned so much about our father that week. His meek life held many treasures. Organized to the tee, yet unconcerned with appearances, Daddy lived quietly and loved deeply. His Bible was so worn its spine was reinforced with duct tape. I smile each time I look at it.

The other day I opened its old pages and began reading. Daddy used pencil to mark in his Bible so I didn’t catch it right away, but there was this tiny marking next to every instance of the words eternity and forever. It was the infinity symbol (Daddy was an electrical engineer). I smile at each one knowing how much he longed to be in heaven with his Savior, Jesus Christ and that he is now experiencing his deepest longing.

2011 was a year of revelation for me. I did get to go on that cruise and beside the still Caribbean waters, God restored my soul. The lessons Daddy taught me, both verbally and through the way he lived his life, became as clear as the ink on the pages of his old Bible. Yes, I still mourn his absence, but it is a sweet sorrow; it is joyful—like celebrating someone’s graduation from long years of study; it’s how Daddy always described it would be: a heavenly promotion.

And so I want to spend 2012 sharing with you the nuggets of wisdom my Daddy shared with me. Here’s the first one:

“God can bless you every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year of your life—and never repeat Himself.” Galen R. Courtney 1933-2011

My prayer for you in this New Year is that you will watch for God’s blessings and always take time to tremble and marvel at His infinite ability to make all things new!  (Revelation 21:5)