In preparation for a monumental class reunion in Burton, Ohio, I started researching old childhood friends with whom I'd lost touch. A google search of "Donny McNish" led me here to learn of his recent passing.
Donny spent his beginning years in Burton, Ohio and, as his dairy farmer relatives would say, "he came from good stock." In fact, when his granddad McNish, a prominent dairy farmer, died suddenly in his late 50's my dad told me, "they don't make 'em like Howard anymore."
Donny inherited his granddad's intuitive ability to read people and be sure they knew his cared for them. He demonstrated this in a whimsical way when he and I were playing outside the McNish house. I always felt bad I didn't have as many siblings as Donny. He took me behind the barn and gave me a short, but welcomed kiss. The story goes, his big sisters teased him 'til he was blue in the face! But me, I liked it--it showed me Donny cared.
The day the McNish's moved off to Florida was a sad day in my life. I was so beside myself, knowing I would miss them all, I couldn't t bring myself to run a half a mile down the street to say good bye.
I am happy to read in Donny's obituary that he was a Protestant and my genuine hope is that my childhood friend, Donny, is resting in the arms of Jesus. For then I can't be too sad of his passing, for I know I will see him again.
"And if they could be made God's people by what they did, God's gift of grace would not really be a gift." Romans 11:6