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April 14, 1947 – July 23, 1982

Thirty-two years ago today, William H. Booth, my dad, passed away. Days like today are when I miss him most. He passed away just a little over two weeks before my fifth birthday. I have very few memories of him, but the ones that I have, I treasure. 

I remember running to hide behind the chair when I heard his truck pulling up our driveway and waiting in anticipation for him to find me. He would search around the house, making sure that the chair where the giggling noise was coming from was the last place he looked. 

I remember playing ball with him in our backyard and watching as he threw a plastic ball so high, that it got stuck in a tree. I remember thinking that my dad was the strongest person alive. 

I remember that he loved me. 

I remember hearing the news during Clinton Camp Meeting that my dad had gone to the hospital. And it was at the hospital where he died. To this day, every time I walk into a hospital, I think of my dad. 

I remember nearly every detail of his funeral. I remember pulling a chair up to the side of the casket and sobbing over his body. I still remember the smell of the funeral flowers, the crowded funeral home, the ride to the cemetery. These events are etched in my mind. 

Over these past thirty-two years, I have discovered that God is good, even during traumatic times. I have discovered that God is faithful. My mom and I experienced some rough waters after his death, but when we reflect on those days, we see evidences of God everywhere.  In the midst of uncertain times, God was and is always certain. 

William H. Booth

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