A Life Lived for Heaven. By George Adel Andraws, a son remembering his father.

My father, Adel Andraws, spent his whole life with one clear purpose: building his home in heaven.

THE MAN GOD FORMED

From a young age, Adel’s life was deeply rooted in the Church and shaped under the spiritual guidance of his beloved St. Abouna Bishoy Kamel. He was ignited by that burning spirit of unconditional love, quiet sacrifice, and relentless hope. It left a permanent mark on him and became his way of life.

Adel was gifted with intelligence, and he transformed it into wisdom. When he graduated high school at the top of his class, he could have chosen any path—medicine, engineering, or any other career. Seeking guidance, he asked his spiritual father, “I want to serve God and help people. Should I be a doctor?” The answer he received was simple and profound: “Serve the Lord in whatever you do.”

And so he did.

Adel chose engineering and lived that calling faithfully every day. He began his career at EgyptAir, working in aviation and teaching pilots — helping others navigate the skies long before he himself would take his heavenly flight.

A HOME THAT BECAME A CHURCH

When he later received an offer to work at Boeing in Seattle, Adel hesitated. The Coptic Church community there was small at the time, and priests visited only periodically. Concerned about leaving the mother church in Egypt, he once again sought counsel. The response he received was clear: “Then make your home a church.”

So he did.

Together with his wife Mary, lovingly known to so many as “Uncle Adel and Taunt Mary,” he opened their home to everyone—newcomers, students, families, and anyone in need. To many people, our home was the “Hotel Andraws.” Some stayed a night, some stayed a year. No one ever felt like a stranger. Somehow, my parents never ran out of food, tea, or patience.

THE GOSPEL PREACHED WITHOUT WORDS

More than a place to stay, their home became a living church, with service as its heartbeat. I watched my mom stay up late making sure every celebration had the perfect cake or the right decorations so everyone felt loved. I saw my uncle Ezzat bake orban, organize the bazaar, and make the world’s best kofta for what seemed like an army. And many others of his family and close friends also served.

Adel believed that true service was not found behind a microphone or podium, but in Christ kneeling to wash feet—seeing the person in front of you and meeting their need with love. It was the Gospel preached without words.

SEEING CHRIST IN EVERY PERSON

In that same spirit, Amo Adel served everywhere he was needed: Sunday School, youth meetings, conventions, counseling, and visiting those who were hurting. He saw Christ in every face, and because of that, he left a mark on every heart. So many carry a memory of him—being warmly welcomed as a newcomer, picked up from the airport, supported during a difficult season, or comforted when everything felt hopeless. He had a rare gift for making everyone feel like a dear old friend.

He often said, “Every person is worth the blood of Christ.” As his son, I can testify that he truly lived this. He treated everyone with equal love and dignity—from bishops to beggars. He waited patiently for the prodigal son just as earnestly as he searched for the lost sheep. There was one exception though: children. They were greeted with noticeably more enthusiasm. Some of his favorite people lovingly called him “Gedo.”

THE FATHER WE KNEW

Baba deeply loved the Church and everything about her. He had little interest in the music of the world but cherished the hymns of the Church. While some children grew up with popular radio stations, I grew up learning Gospel responses during our frequent drives to church. If I walked or talked during the reading of the Gospel in the liturgy, I wouldn't get a scolding but a smile…and, later, a loooong explanation about respecting the living Logos. He knew that correction first requires connection.

He consistently defended the defenseless, even in the smallest moments. Like when I’d make a harmless joke teasing someone, he’d step in gently to protect them.

Through Adel, the Spirit spoke. Conversations with him—about problems, conflicts, or frustrations—had a way of opening hearts. With just a few thoughtful questions, he could help you see a new perspective, recognize your own blind spot, or encounter Christ Himself. His conversations didn’t just change situations; they changed people.

As a father, Adel trusted completely in God’s providence and never worried about his own life. Yet he carried the pain of others as if it were his own. Years ago, one of my closest friends passed away suddenly. We were all crushed. At the next youth meeting, he listened, and then said something that shocked me and revealed the depth of his compassion: “When I heard the news," he said, "I wished it could have been me instead.” And I got so angry with him — because I knew he really meant it.

He would gladly take anyone’s cross, even at the cost of his own life.

Marked by a disarming humility, Adel never sought praise or attention. Celebrating him was never easy. It took days to convince him to let us celebrate his 75th birthday. Every Father’s Day or birthday we'd ask what he wanted and his answer was always the same: “Just be here. I want my family around me.” As a result, he accumulated a lifetime supply of mugs—simply because no one knew what else to give someone who wanted nothing and seemed to have Everything.

THE FAITH HE FINISHED

Before retiring from Boeing, Adel returned to school to earn a master’s degree in counseling—not for recognition or gain, but simply so he could serve more. And so he did -- quietly, joyfully, and expecting nothing in return.

My father was prepared to depart to his heavenly home years ago. When he was first diagnosed with cancer - about 8 years ago - he sat my sister and me down and calmly walked us through funeral arrangements, documents, accounts — as though he were discussing the weather. His heart was ready long before ours were.

In his final months, Adel gave a masterclass in surrender. 

He was gifted with pain and disease which he transformed into joy and acceptance. I believe this is when his love and humility were purified in the fire of cancer - much like his beloved Abouna Bishoy Kamel.

Even through intense pain, he responded to questions about his health with a smile: “Perfect,” “Great,” “Thank God,” “Very good.” When words failed, a simple thumbs-up was enough. And almost always, he would turn the conversation back to the other person: “How are you doing?”

Even from his hospital bed, he brought joy to others. He praised and encouraged healthcare workers, telling them, “You are wonderful; you are doing the work of the Lord.” Later he said how much he felt for them, constantly caring for people who are suffering. Even in his sickness, he lifted their spirits.

Adel emptied himself completely. He desired nothing from this world—no outings, no entertainment—only his family near him and God within him. His faith was not theoretical. It was the faith of David before Goliath, trusting fully that “the battle is the Lord’s.” He often said, “Rubena yidabbar”—God will work it out. 

And He did.

THE HOPE HE LEAVES US WITH

If we could ask him right now what he wants, I believe Adel’s answer would be the same as it always was: to be surrounded by his loved ones. 

Now, he is—both here in memory and in heaven in fullness. And he waits for us to join him.

If you knew him for 5 minutes or 5 years, then you definitely felt his love; and what better way to honor him than to mirror Christ’s love ourselves. So now let us turn our gaze upward and strive to build our home in heaven — where every tear is wiped away and all things are made new.

While we grieve his absence, heaven rejoices at his arrival. The sum of our tears is simply the measure of our love and the witness of what he meant to his family, his church, and this community.

We may say goodbye, but heaven speaks differently. The greeting of the saints is heard:

Axios. Worthy. Mabrook. Blessed. How fortunate you are.

With his beloved mother the Holy Virgin Mary, the angels, the saints who welcomed him, Abouna Bishoy who shaped him, and Pope Kyrillos who shepherded him, we proclaim:

Axios, axios, axios. Worthy, worthy, worthy.

Khristos Anesti!

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