Ramblin’ Man

The pain of not having Randy here does not grow easier—it just becomes less public. It wakes me in the morning and stalks me in midday in ordinary places like Home Depot, and it bathes me in salt water in the wee hours of the night. I try not to “go there” because I distinctly heard Randy tell me not to. To the floor. To where they pulled him when he lost consciousness and i begged him over and over not to leave. But he did. And I do. Sometimes I just can’t help going there because it was my last moments with him in our home and I try to catch the lingering smell of his presence.

Then I remember him whispering to my heart to walk forward—to walk on that there were things I needed to do—things I needed to become and that he was going to be with me every step of the way.

In the weeks after Randy’s passing, I sat for breakfast with one of my forever friends. The kind you don’t have to see for years and when you are together it’s like you never were apart. The kindred spirit kind of friend whose presence fits like a comfortably worn shoe. Randy gave me this friend. She was his before she was mine. She’s one of the best gifts he gave, and he gave many.

We sat across from one another and I shared about seeing him slip away that day and we cried into our cold coffee together. Then she began to share Randy stories- stories lived before we met. How this long haired blue jeaned boy’s desire was for everyone he met to know the power and fullness of the Holy Spirit. The fire in his heart changed so many lives that still burn bright for Jesus today.

Then she shared about how his group of Christian friends assigned him ‘Ramblin’ Man’ as his theme song and when they all met at their favorite pizza joint after Sunday night church and Randy walked in, one of them would drop a quarter in the juke box and play ‘Ramblin Man’ when he walked in. They did it because often he would come in and say “The Lord told me out to head out to Myrtle Beach in the morning”- or on several occasions—”I’m hitchhiking to Montana after church today. I believe the Lord is leading me to head that way for a bit” so “Ramblin’ Man” would take off adventuring with his red bible and a backpack and his God, only to return in a week or two full of stories.

My eyes misted and my heart burned with a strange painful joy as she shared these things. I remembered watching the EMTs doing CPR for so long and saying over and over, “Please don’t go baby. Please don’t go.” Really, in those moments, there was a sense of leaving not of dying. So different. But my much loved “Ramblin’ Man” heard the Lord call and stepped right into the next adventure—but not without whispering to my heart to keep going forward to find all God has for me in this season and he would be with me every step of the way. I’m determined not to waste this wrenching sorrow but to let God use it to make new highways in my heart and move me to new understanding that only deep rich pain and surrender in His hand can bring. And I know my forever love is there cheering me on till we are together again.

The day my friend shared her ‘Ramblin’ Man’ story with me, Levi and I had lunch at a quiet place in downtown Columbia. The kind of place that plays laid back jazz or maybe some Frank Sinatra. My friend had gone with me to meet Levi at SOTA (State of the Art Gallery and Pottery Studio) and shared Randy’s story with him too. Levi too was mourning the loss of his dad.  All of a sudden, I became aware of the song softly playing. I couldn’t believe my ears. Levi and I looked at each other in shared amazement as we listened to ‘Ramblin’ Man’ play in this usually subdued place. We couldn’t believe it but also couldn’t help but grin real big. Randy and the Lord were playfully reminding us that he was still very much alive and near. I had never really listened to the lyrics, but the refrain grabbed my heart. The part where the song says he has to leave her and he hopes she’ll understand that he was born to be a rambling man played over and over in my heart.

He was always the Father’s “Ramblin Man”. It was one of the reasons I fell so deeply in love with him. One of the reasons that love kept its bright flame for 47 years. One of the reasons I know I’ll join him again. Always looking for what the Lord had next.  Always willing to go where He called. That day in July he couldn’t “not go” when the King bid him come—even as I begged him not to leave.  I knew Randy was following our King. He was born a “Ramblin’ Man”.

Baby, I do understand and until we meet again I too journey—toward the King we love and toward you, our “Ramblin’ Man”.