On January 19th I took some time to note that it was the seventh anniversary of my dad’s death. I hadn’t seen him in over nine years when he died. He had moved to Mongolia at 57 years of age to begin a new and completely unexpected season in his life. His remains are still there, buried “upstream,” rather reflective of his whole life, never mind his years in Mongolia.

My dad and I had an “interesting” relationship; definitely not an easy one. For dignity’s sake no more will be said except to say, in one rather honest, gentle, final connection over the phone, God restored “all the years the locust had eaten”, giving us both what we needed to be at peace as we said our goodbyes.

Little did either of us know that going to a new country, radically different than anything he had ever known, would prove to be his “greatest hour” and a monumental gift to so many. I was cleaning up my files a few weeks ago and came across one full of emails and other correspondence between us. While in Mongolia he established an NGO called ORAM, meaning “hope”. Through it, he brought hope to boys in the federal prison, developed a shelter for homeless children, established community and livelihood programs for herders, single moms and widows, and provided training for local government officials. The successes did not come easily. In fact, they came with a lot of failure and hard, sometimes grievous work on his character and understandings.

Yet, in a newspaper article the following was written, along with other compelling comments: “Long-time Ulaanbaatar resident and Canadian Ken Howard has been showered with New Year’s honours for his work in Mongolia. He has been awarded the country’s highest awards from the Social Welfare and Labour Ministry (for his work with children and the unemployed) and the Finance Ministry for his contribution to helping the national economy.” In short, he had a role in changing a nation! Who would have thought!

Why do I share this now? Because I too am looking at new directions that are unexpected and, in many ways, don’t make sense. The road before me is leading back to school yet again to train for a whole new career. One of my children thought perhaps it was getting a little late in life to be investing that kind of money for something that would likely have a rather short duration of application. He wondered if that was worth it. Couldn’t I do something with all of the education and experience I already have? Very good questions. Questions I have wrestled with myself for a few months.

However, I come back now with some good questions of my own in response. Who said anything about things needing to make sense (though this actually does when you look at the whole story)? And what is the appropriate timeline to give yourself to something before it is deemed to have been worth the investment? And who really knows what will be the outcomes of any endeavour we set our hearts and efforts on and how long we will get to do those things?

Amongst all the different voices, which for the most part have shared consensus, I heard the voice of my dad’s life. Rather late in that life he courageously, perhaps even desperately, stepped into a completely different direction, not really sure what lay ahead for him. He also didn’t know he only had nine years left. He only knew to step out and go for it, whatever “it” would look like. He was very much in a position of “no turning back” so he went, “all in.”

The one thing my dad and I shared well in this last leg of his journey was a faith in God through Jesus Christ. It was the primary substance of every conversation, email, and effort to work on our relationship. Jesus started his public ministry when he was around 30 years of age, and did it for 3 years before being nailed to a cross. The impact of his life and death is still felt today – hardly a wasted investment of a short life and even shorter “career”.

When I consider my dad, I am more often than not inspired by the man who realized through faith that it wasn’t too late to change course and go in new directions; that the measure was not how long or how well, but simply that you did it. Christ gave him hope when he was without hope, and gave him courage to “go for it.” The result was ORAM/hope for others far beyond what any of us would have imagined or logically expected.

I do not romanticize or idealize my dad’s life – there is little room to do that. But when my son asked those good questions, they were actually timely, for they helped me to see I had come to the certainty, well-modeled by my dad, that it is never too late.

I’m only 51, still rather young if you ask me. But, I am definitely in the latter half of my life. I don’t know how much longer I will live. I don’t know how long I will have to apply this new direction. I do know that it really doesn’t matter. The value of the direction is not measured in years or dollars but in impact, and while I doubt I will have a hand in changing any nation, I am confident I will have a hand in changing some lives; in bringing the truth and hope to some wondering if it is “too late” for them and getting to watch them courageously step out in faith having discovered it really is never too late.