Robert

Dad wasn’t perfect.  He had his mischievous side as well. That’s where I got mine. When he proposed to Mom during his medical residency, he didn’t have enough money to buy her a proper ring, so instead, he gave her the ring of a pig’s umbilical cord, and told her he would get a better one soon.  

Our Grandmother Bell, “Granny” as we called her, used to make the best boiled custard and banana pudding.  When she brought that banana pudding over in a huge glass dish, all the children eagerly looked forward to it cooling overnight and having it the next day.  But Dad, loving banana pudding as much or more than the children, would sneak in the kitchen at night, and eat most or if not the whole dish.  The next day, when everyone looked in the refrigerator and asked “what happened to the banana pudding?”, Dad would just be smiling like a Cheshire cat, knowing what he had done.

But Dad was truly kind, compassionate, understanding and wise.  I was the only child who did not pursue a career in medicine.  I was studying pre-med because that is what all the Lucas family was supposed to do.   I felt a call in a different direction from medicine and was very worried about disappointing my Dad.  When I finally told him that I did not feel called to be a doctor, Dad calmly and wisely said, “Son, if your heart is not in medicine, you don’t need to be a doctor.  Certainly don’t go in it for the money.”  His understanding words lifted a huge weight off my shoulders and allowed me the courage to pursue a theological degree in the years ahead. 

Dad knew the hearts of his children, and wanted the best for us. Dad also had a fierce determination to take care of his children and insure their well being.  When I was working in a church in Savannah, Georgia, I started to have a sharp pain in my abdominal area.  I had just eaten a very spicy meal at a Mexican restaurant, so I thought it might be the jalapenos.  I called Dad and he asked me to prod around to locate the pain.  Then he asked me to stand on my tiptoes and quickly drop to my heels. He asked if it hurt, and I said, “Yes, very much.”  He replied that I had appendicitis and that I needed to go to the hospital.  I went to the hospital, but the emergency room was too crowded, and it would be hours before I could see a doctor. I called Dad again, and he said to go to the MEA clinic.  They confirmed what Dad already had diagnosed over the phone.  I had appendicitis.  I was concerned and worried.  Dad said, “Don’t worry, son, I am coming to get you. You are going to be ok.”   Dad called my uncle Billy Whittington, who had a small plane, and the two of them flew off from Greenwood to Savannah.  The only problem was the airport had closed so Billy had to land in the dark, and the college kids from the church managed to hoist me over the cyclone fence close to the runway.  The three of us flew back to Greenwood in the early morning hours, where my brother John was waiting at the hospital.  John said to me in his witty, playful way, “I’ve been wanting to cut on you all my life.”  Of course I was in the best hands, and John had me on the road to recovery very quickly.   Dad and my brother John, the father and son team, and my uncle Billy Whittington, had come to my rescue. 

 I will always cherish that story of the relentless, pursuing love of my Dad, who embodied so much the heavenly Father’s undying love for us.   I would like to close with beautiful remarks about my Dad by my brother-in-law Mickey Naaman and his friend John.   “Dr. Lucas was as close to the most perfect Southern Gentleman as anyone I’ve ever been around.”  “He was smartest man I have ever met.”  “The most humble man I have ever met with everything to brag about but didn’t.” He was all that and more.  Dad will be greatly missed by all,  and I know he would want us to continue his legacy by loving one another and loving God as he did.