Archive for the ‘Death’ category
November 18, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. November 18, 2016
As Thanksgiving Day descends upon us it has caused me to think about the little things I’m thankful for. Perhaps you have your own list that resonates within you. Here’s a few things that cause me to stop, ponder, and be continually thankful for:
1) Sitting on the couch with my three grandkids watching TV, especially if one or two of them are leaned up against me. It causes me to remember when I was growing up and sitting beside my mom and dad in church, leaning into their warmth and presence. Now Reagan and Rennie lean into me and warm my soul!
2) Sunday early evening phone conversations with my dad. Since we’re two time zones apart it usually happens right after I’ve eaten dinner and he’s getting ready for bed. My dad is 88! His pleasant Eastern Kentucky accent carries a flood of family memories with it. As I talk with him I’m thinking of many of those things that he has brought to my life. He taught me how to drive, using our ’66’ Chrysler Newport as the guinea pig. In fact, the first time I drove it in the Ironton Junior High School parking lot I was trying to turn it so hard that I broke the power steering. Although he thought about killing me, patience won out!
3) Being married to a woman with a heart for kids who have needs. Carol is sensitive to those who have limitations as she works with special needs students in middle school. Although she retired at the end of the last school year she gets called EVERY SCHOOL DAY…Trust me! EVERY SCHOOL DAY!…to substitute! She comes alongside students who sometimes are ostracized in the midst of the middle school culture. At the end of the school day she is one tired puppy!
4) The ability to reflect and write. God has gifted me with an unusual talent. Most days as I sit on my Starbucks stool and peck out my blog post I have no idea what I’m about to write until I start writing it. Sometimes it comes as I put the Half and Half in my first cup of coffee; sometimes it comes as I sit and stare at Pike’s Peak for a couple of minutes…but it always seems to come! Most of the time it even makes sense!
5) A renewed passion for the church! As I help First Baptist Church in Simla, Colorado navigate the future it excites me. My excitement is definitely not based on compensation, but rather on “mission and purpose.” I love this congregation of twenty, who are anxious about their future. Thirty-seven years of pastoring has prepared me to offer advice and lead them to the questions that they need to be asking themselves.
6) The memories that pain me! That probably sounds strange, and yet I’m thankful for the wounds of my soul! In the past two months I’ve presided over the funerals of two dear people- a 95 year old saint named Rex and a 41 year old friend and father named Greg. I cried at both of them, and I am thankful that my life was blessed by them to the point that I was deeply impacted. Even now as I write these words the grief once again is like a wave that rushes over me.
We often think about the big reasons to be thankful, but the lake of thanksgiving is held together by small pebbles of gratitude!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Freedom, Grandchildren, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Chrysler Newport, family memories, gratitude, memories, reasons to be thankful, small ways for thankfulness, thankful, thanks, Thanksgiving
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November 13, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. November 12, 2016
I remember my sister, Rena, getting upset with our parents when she was about ten years old over some important issue…like the shoes she had to wear, or not being able to go roller skating on a Friday night at two o’clock in the morning. She threatened to run away from home. One time she actually did, walking heavily across the kitchen floor and out the side door of our house. She proceeded to stand on the carport for a good five minutes before “coming back to family.” As an eight year old at the time I was a little bummed. I had figured out that either my brother or I would get her bedroom. Charlie and I had to share a bedroom.
A neighbor kid about my age would frequently threaten to leave the game we were playing, take his ball, and go home if things didn’t go his way. He was annoying, and after a few threats such as that, the rest of us would let him go. We would just figure out something else to play that didn’t involve his ball.
During my 36 years as a church pastor I encountered numerous people who would make threats. It was often clothed in a statement that began with these words: “If this doesn’t happen I’m going to…” The completed statement would come from a menu of possibilities such as “leave the church”, “stop giving money”, “resign my position”, or “make things unpleasant!” Sometimes we stood firm on our position or direction and other times, unfortunately, we caved in! One thing I learned over the years: A church never goes forward as a result of giving in to internal threats!
Threats and ultimatums are immature ways for society to react to a direction that not everyone agrees with. They are like a stubborn Beaver Cleaver refusing to eat the Brussels sprouts on his plate because he doesn’t like them. (Yes! I just saw that episode on DVD!)
This week’s election result was going to cause unrest and anger no matter which candidate won. Let’s be honest! Even though Donald Trump won there were an abundance of people who voted for him simply because they did not want Hillary Clinton; and, on the other hand, there were an abundance of people who voted for Clinton because they did not want Trump. If a third option had been on the ballot that said, “Neither One!”, it may have been the victor!
So now we enter post-election emotions and unrest around the country. Neither candidate endeared themselves to people with all the negative ads they pumped millions of dollars into!
So now what? In my years as pastor I’ve told people that two events in the life of a family necessitate change. That is, when one of these events happens things will not stay the same as they were. The events are a birth and a death! When a new baby comes along things, by necessity, change! When someone passes away, by necessity, things change! This past election was a birth event for some and a death for many. In my saying that it also needs to be said that it would have been a birth and death event if Hillary Clinton had also been elected.
In either case, by necessity, things will change. Our country will draw closer together or it will become more fractured. There will either be a reaching to find common ground or there will be a continuation of threats. Washington, which hasn’t really been a very good role model in recent years, will strive to either row together or do a tug of war of wills.
In a culture of instant gratification and self-centeredness this optimist is not very optimistic!
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Death, Freedom, Nation, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: 2016 election, Brussels sprouts, Clinton, compromise, election, finding common ground, Leave It To Beaver, making threats, moving forward, not getting our way, the presidential election, Threats, Trump, ultimatums, Working together
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October 24, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. October 24, 2016
People say that I’m more of an optimist! I can see the silver lining in just about any situation. If a flight I’m on gets delayed I think about the fact that the flight attendants will probably give us an extra mini-bag of pretzels during the flight. When my 7th Grade football team got beat 42-2 in a game this year I replayed in my mind several times the play where we scored the two point safety.
So it fits that I’m able to still stay the optimistic course when it comes to suffering. A week ago my friend, Greg Davis, passed away. I led his funeral service on Saturday. During the course of the week I had some heart-wrenching conversations with his family. It had been a six year journey with cancer. Even in the midst of the grief Greg’s wife was able to say that they had come to experience the hope of God.
During the service I read Romans 15:13, a verse that Greg had underlined in is Bible. It reads, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” In the journey with the uninvited passenger of cancer the Davis family discovered that God is hope. Granted that discovery was paved with a multitude of tears, countless moments of confusion, and a list of questions all beginning with why, but they slowly arrived at the village of Hope.
Greg’s journey paved the way for other conversations I had last week with other people about being a follower of Jesus and the uncomfortableness of suffering. Some tainted theology emerged from people’s minds. Simply put it said what is the use of following Christ if he doesn’t protect you from things like cancer. If Jesus isn’t a lucky charm warding off evil, accidents, and illnesses why follow him? Great revealing questions that evolve out of a person’s real motives, that being “What will Jesus do for me?” People are always more comfortable with Jesus as a savior, but Jesus as Lord is not nearly as agreeable.
What Greg and his wife Jordan discovered is that God walks closely beside us. Following Jesus is not like having a rabbit’s foot in my pocket, but rather knowing that he is with me in the valleys, not waiting for me on the far side of the valley. It’s knowing in the depths of my soul the truth of that verse in Psalm 23, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” (Psalm 23:4)
Times of suffering are a part of life as much as times of delight. The hope comes in knowing that the love of God is constant and pure, a mighty shoulder to cry on and a hand to lead me on. The only person who enjoys pain and suffering is a masochist, but when the agony of life makes a stop on the front steps of where I live it gives me a peaceful assurance knowing that the Good Shepherd is standing beside me as I open that door. And that isn’t optimism, but rather heart-felt belief!
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Death, Faith, Jesus, love, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: cancer, confusion, grief, grieving, hope, hope in suffering, hopefulness, Jesus as Savior and Lord, loss, Psalm 23, Romans 15:13, suffering, why questions, why things happen
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October 23, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. October 23, 2016
Yesterday I officiated at the funeral service for my friend, Greg Davis. “Officiated” is an interesting word to use in this context since Greg and I have been basketball officials for years. In fact, I think that’s how we first met…being a part of the same high school basketball officials’ group.
Then we discovered that he was teaching at the same middle school that my youngest daughter attended…then we discovered that he had been on the summer staff at Black Forest Baptist Camp…then I discovered that he had been raised in the First Baptist Church of Sterling, Colorado, another American Baptist Church! It was a series of discoveries that forged a deeper relationship.
Then the cancer was discovered!
Then I became his pastor!
Greg and Jordan had exited the church they were a part of and, to put it bluntly, they were done with church…an organized church, that is! I noticed that they still had a support group of friends who had exited the church scene along with them, and this group was on an unusual faith journey together.
Then about a month after his brain tumor was discovered I entered our sanctuary one Sunday to begin the worship service and was surprised to see them sitting in a pew on the right side about four rows from the back. Cancer has a way of putting things in perspective for a person. The church I pastored became a safe place for them to ask God the hard questions, a place where they could ask for prayer and have the congregation gather around them…literally!…lay hands on them and pray! They relocated as time went on to the left side of the sanctuary about five rows from the front and many Sundays Jordan would share the latest news of Greg’s MRI or oncologist appointment. I would see Greg sitting beside her and weeping. When I retired from the pastorate at the end of 2015 it was gratifying to see my former church continue to journey with Greg and Jordan through many difficult days, and they will continue to be a support system for Jordan and Kayleigh in the days ahead. She knows that she is not alone.
Yesterday was an emotional day for many people. The sanctuary was full of family, friends, teaching colleagues, and church folk. I found myself riding the roller coaster of emotions as I sat on the platform and then while I was speaking. I’ve presided over probably 150 funerals in my years of ministry and I rarely get emotional during them, but yesterday was different. As I thought about it last night it occurred to me that my flood of emotions may have been connected to the six year journey I had traveled with Greg, a road that was filled with as many praise-filled occasions as gut-wrenching test results.
The funeral was two hours of laughter and tears. One person commented to Greg’s parents that he had never laughed so much at a funeral. That’s good! Laughter is the sugar cube in a cup of tears. People laughed at the sharing of some of Greg’s old sarcastic comments and his brothers’ sharing of past stories, and people cried as his nine year old daughter read the letter she had written to her dad after he passed.
Death is harsh. It will hold hands with each one of us whether we are willing or reluctant. As I told those at the service yesterday, for the follower of Christ it is a confusing blend of grief and joy. There is deep sorrow over the physical departure of the person and a simmering joy because of his eternal relocation.
I miss my friend, and I’ll continue to miss him. In a very weird way one of the blessings of friendship is the sorrow of loss.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Black Forest Baptist Camp, cancer, cancer treatment, funeral service, funerals, grief, grieving, loss, mourning, passing on, remembering
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October 8, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. October 8, 2016
“Conversing With A 5 Year Old Evangelist And Her 18 Month Old Sister”
Yesterday was “Watch the Grandkids Day!” since our teaching daughter had meetings at her school. It was an experience of gospel and giggling!
Reagan, a highly-verbal five year old, was up and ready for conversation when I arrived at 7:45. Her 18 month old sister, Corin, was also chowing down on mini-waffles as I entered the room and immediately offered me one. When I took a move to accept it she withdrew the offer…and redirected the waffle to her mouth quickly!
Denied!!!
As I sat on the couch Reagan started sharing the gospel with me, using some “gospel block” creation to explain the steps to getting to heaven.
“Granddad, this is the cross! Do you know who that is who is on the cross?”
“Jesus?”
“Baby! Baby! Baby!”, came the voice of Corin directed at me while pointing to a babydoll in a stroller.”
“Yes! That is Jesus, Granddad. Do you know why he is on the Cross?”
The 18 month old walked up at that moment with a hat in her hand. “Hat!”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Hat!”
“He died for our sins, Granddad!”
“Yes, he did.”
The toddler was not yet impressed by that truth. She had discovered one of her brother’s Hot Wheel cars. Jesse was still in upstairs slumber, unaware of the fact that Corin now was prancing around with his Mustang.
“Car! Car!”
“Yes, that’s a car!”
“If you want to go to heaven, Granddad, you need to believe in Jesus…okay?”
My mind was spinning like an NFL head coach fielding questions from all parts of the press room after a game. The Mustang went thundering across the wood floor, followed closely by a squeal of delight.
“Do you know what this is, Granddad?”, asked Reagan showing me another side of the gospel blocks. “This is heaven. It’s bright and sunny, and people don’t have to wear shoes.”
“Socks! Socks!”, clarified the waddling blonde pointing at the red socks on her feet.
“Yes, those are socks, Corin!”
“Good people go to heaven, and bad people go to hell, Granddad!” I did not want to straighten out the kinks in her theology at 8 A.M., and was a little taken back at her matter-of-fact usage of the word men fling around freely to make a point about their opinions and actions, or in disturbed confusion about something that has just happened…”What the hell!” And now my granddaughter had guided it naturally into her gospel presentation!
“Juice! Juice!”
“You want some juice, Corin? Okay, just a minute!”
“Someday you can go to heaven, Granddad!”
“I hope so, Reagan!”
“…if you believe in Jesus!” There was doubt in her tone! Later on I could envision her doubting my citizenship in heaven because I refused her request for a mid-morning bowl of ice cream! Her evangelism had not yet differentiated between saying yes to her requests being different from saying yes to Jesus. Jesus went to the cross for her, so wouldn’t I at least go to the freezer?
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Death, Faith, Grandchildren, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: child evangelism, child evangelist, evangelism, evangelist, gospel, Kids Say the Darnedest Things
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September 24, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. September 24, 2016
My father, Laurence Hubert Wolfe, lives in Proctorville, Ohio. He turned 88 back in June. He is, and has always been, a man of integrity and compassion. Living in Colorado has minimized my time with him in recent years. Sunday night phone calls are our meaningful habit, about thirty minutes of conversation about what is happening, punctuated with a few stories that we each chuckle about when shared. I’ve been blessed to be the son of a man who is Deacon Emeritus at his church, not so much for his biblical knowledge, but rather for his humbleness and grace.
God knew I needed another dad…a resident papa, if you will…and he blessed my life these past seventeen years with another man of humbleness and grace named Rex Davis. Both Rex and my dad were government employees- Rex with the Postal Service and my dad with the Social Security Administration. And both Rex and my dad were caregivers for their wives for a number of years, treating their spouses with respect and love as ailments and conditions slowed their mobility.
The only difference between Rex and my dad is that Rex preceded his wife, Ann, in death. Today I speak at his funeral. He passed away about a week ago after battling cancer for the past three years or so. Rex was 95.
As I speak this afternoon I expect that I will become emotional. Sometimes pastors become accustomed to grief, to loss, and tragedy. It becomes a part of our occupational routine, and quite frankly, seldom touches our hearts. There are, however, those people whose lives have entwined themselves into your lives that ignite the sorrow and awaken the emotions. Rex is that person for me! His funeral is an event I have dreaded, and yet, feel very honored to be a part of.
When I was his pastor he would squeeze my finger each Sunday when he would pass the offering plate to me, and then he’d whisper to me “Praying for you, Pastor Bill!” He was my golfing dad, hitting them short and straight and then patiently waiting for me to find my drive that usually went long and sliced to the right. He appreciated my ministry and, with sincerity, told me so frequently.
I walked some lonely days with him, as he grieved the death of his only son in a motorcycle accident. I was a listening ear in his time of loss and confusion. When my mom passed away he came along beside me with words of comfort, and found a few more times each month to give my finger a squeeze or embrace me with a hug of support.
I expect that the sanctuary will be close to capacity this afternoon, a testimony to a man who outlived just about everybody of his generation. It will be a bitter-sweet celebration of his life and his witness. There will be outbursts of laughter and ears streaming tears of sorrow.
I miss my friend. I miss my Colorado dad!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Death, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: a man of integrity, caregiver, death, funerals, grief, integrity, loss
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September 7, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. September 7, 2016
I’m in the midst of chaos in my home study. As my mom used to say, “It looks like a tornado went through your room!” She often exaggerated when it suited the point she was making! If, however, she saw my study she would run for shelter.
The reason for the chaos is that I’m going through all my old sermons…all thirty-six and a half years of them! I’m sorting them according to the main scripture text in various piles that cover the floor. I’ve been going about it a few minutes at a time, because my knees can’t take that much floor time! Old knees kneeling over old sermons…quite a combination!
As I’ve gone about the sorting process I’ve started to discover certain things. Although I’m not done yet, Matthew seems to have been my favorite book of the Bible to preach from. Mark is not far behind! In fact, the gospels are getting a majority of the manuscripts. If it was my fantasy football league draft they would be my first four picks in building a solid point-producing line-up.
There are certain books that are missing in my sermons. Song of Solomon and Lamentations did not make the sermon cut. I was always a bit shy about preaching about gazelles and pomegranates in THAT kind of way. And although it is the Word of God, Lamentations didn’t really inspire much hope for me. It was understandably hard to “get up” for preaching doom-and-gloom!
I’m already seeing certain themes appear. In my earlier years of ministry my sermons tended to dish out the guilt more. My task seemed to be to make people realize how screwed up they were. In my later years of ministry the theme of grace filters through my messages more and more. I can’t analyze that too much yet. It could be that I was seeing how ridicule and accusation were becoming more dominant in our culture, or it could be that I was sensing more sorrow in people’s lives because of who they had become. It is always easier to condemn rather than help people reconcile. Whatever winds blew me in that direction, grace has been a guiding theme for me the last few years.
I was never really into “end times prophecy”. There’s a void in my preaching in regards to that. I was much more into present-day living and life application. My emphasis was not on what’s going to happen in the future, but rather what does this means for us now?
When I breathe my last breath I’m not sure whether my bulk of messages will survive “the clean-out.” They may end up in some dumpster, along with my old underwear and twenty year old bottles of cologne. Perhaps one of my kids will feel some kind of “dad obligation” and keep them in a few boxes in their basement…maybe!
They are what they are, simply written two thousand word manuscripts from a time gone by. The bigger question will be what sermons will my life have communicated that will stay with people. The most important sermons are not those written on typing paper. The most important messages are those that a person’s life writes with the kind of ink that never fades away.
Going back to Lamentations, I realize that all those three page sermon manuscripts I have are as nothing. They represent thousands of hours of preparation, revision, and pondering and yet they will one day be gone.
But what my life preaches will be remembered! It’s a humbling thought for a preacher, and yet it is one that keeps things in perspective for me. When it comes to a Sunday morning message I’ve assisted a multitude of people in getting a few moments of slumber, but when it comes to what my life preaches there is always an attentive audience.
My life will preach a sermon today. What will be the dominant theme that comes from it?
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Death, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Baptist pastors, condemnation, Lamentations, life messages, Matthew, preach, Preaching, sermon manuscripts, sermonizing, sermons, Song of Solomon, Sunday messages, the gospels, what my life preaches
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September 5, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. September 5, 2016
My life has been filled with transitions, as has yours! Transitioning from diapers to diaper-less, going from crawling to walking, from pre-school to kindergarten, elementary to junior high. There was transitioning from not shaving to imagined shaving (Thinking I saw a hair on my chin and needed to shave!) to shaving; and going from dating Carol to being seriously in love with Carol to marrying Carol.
You get the idea! Life is transitory in nature! We have to continually adjust to changes around us and in us.
Eight months ago I retired as a church pastor after thirty-six and a half years in the ministry. I was ready! I had lost my edge! I was tired of the drama, the weekly tasks, and even the distance that the position was creating between my Creator and myself. So I announced almost three months in advance that I was retiring at the end of December.
Retirement has come with its benefits. Carol says that I am a more relaxed now, perhaps easier to live with. I’m home evenings. We are able to share more dinners together than apart. I’ve had more time to read and write. The lawn looks better! There has been more nights when I’ve been able to sit on the couch with the grandkids watching TV like a kid. (Carol was more amused at me the other night as I sat there watching Shrek 2 with them. I laughed like a kid, because in those moments I was!)
But retirement has also come with its challenges. Being a retired pastor is a strange place to be in. For sixty percent of my life I had been an actively employed pastor. It had become as natural to me as throwing right-handed. Transitioning from that has been one of the hardest changes in my life.
Why is that? Because a pastor is relationally wired. Pastoring is not like a faucet that you can turn on and off at a turn of the wrist. Right now two people who are dear to me are dealing with illnesses that are most likely terminal. Not being their pastor any longer puts me in that strange place of trying to be redefined. Who am I now? A friend? I’m okay with that, but who am I to them? They still refer to be as Pastor Bill.
As pastors we have a Code of Ethics that we commit to follow. Much of it is written with the understanding that it is difficult for people to see someone who has been their pastor as now being their former pastor. Therefore the former pastor needs to keep that distance from those he/she has been the pastor to. It has wisdom in it. If the former pastor still keeps popping up those he pastored will keep reinserting him into his former role. If a church was like a car transmission it would be a car with transmission trouble, having trouble shifting from one gear to another. For the congregation there would be great difficulty in being able to shift from one pastor to the next.
My son-in-law has encountered some similar dynamics in his dental practice. He and my daughter bought the practice from a retiring dentist last fall. Several times he has encountered those words: “Dr. So-and-So didn’t do it that way!”
It is hard for people to transition from one trusted professional to the next. Dentists, doctors, barbers, and especially pastors. The pastor has been there for the crises, the deaths and the births. He has been the confidant and the encourager.
And now he is retired!
This strange new place I’m in has been populated with new adventures, but also deeply-rooted problems that I’ve stubbed my toe on. As time has gone on, and as my former church has gotten closer to calling the next person to come and be the pastor, I’ve become more distant from those I used to pastor. That isn’t a good thing, but a necessary thing.
The small church, a forty-five minute drive away from town, has become my unofficial “pastoring outlet.” I get to preach, pray for, and offer encouragement like I had been doing. I’m like an old dog who gets taken out to the woods and allowed to run around a bit to keep me moving.
As I figure out this new place I’m in there will be moments of celebration and times of depression. I look behind me at the years of footprints and look ahead at a different terrain that requires a change in footwear.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, Jesus, love, marriage, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Baptist ministers, being retired, church transitions, life transitions, ministerial ethics, ministry retirement, pastor code of ethics, retired, retired minister, retired pastor, retired preacher, Shrek 2
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September 2, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. September 2, 2016
Today is the third anniversary of my mom’s passing. Three years since she slipped from the incredible care of my dad and sister and marched into Glory.
Her death was hardly a shock. In fact, we had prayed that it would come sooner than later. The Parkinson’s had taken a tremendous toll on her body. Long before her death she has lost the functioning of her arms and legs. More devastating than that, however, was the lost of speech. My mom was always the verbal one. She would begin a scolding or an opinion with an introduction like, “Buddy, let me tell you something!”, and then proceed to tell you three or four “somethings.” Even though there were many times when we wished…silently, if you will…that she would be quiet, the loss of her voice was a lonely stretch for our family on the journey of grief.
My mom’s voice defined her! She had that Eastern Kentucky accent that was just a bit north of Jed Clampett and the other Beverly Hillbillies. When she visited us in Michigan one time and had a woman compliment her on her accent she was a bit insulted by the idea that she talked a little different than others of the area.
“That lady said I had an accent! I don’t have an accent!” We tried not to laugh outwardly, but inwardly our spirits were shedding tears of laughter.
My dad has always been the one who has thought about what he was going to say. Mom just put it out there! Often her words brought direction for someone who was drifting in the streams of uncertainty. Someone grieving a loss was helped along the way by her words and actions. My best friends Mike and Dave were brought under her wing like two additional sons. Even though they had solid family systems, she gave them a bit more guidance, offered food to them, and told them that they were doing well.
When she stopped talking it was frustrating and humiliating to her, and painful for us as a family. What do you do when the person laying there in that bed is not the person you’ve known all your life? When I would call on Sunday evening and talk to Dad he would place the phone receiver next to Mom’s ear for brief times of conversation with her. I would do the best that I could, but she had always been the one who guided our conversations. I was like a sheep without the shepherd.
Three years ago I got the call that she was gone, and I rejoiced. Now each time I go back home to see my dad and sister we take a day to travel an hour and a half to the cemetery where she, as well as the rest of my relatives, is buried. I feel close to her as I stand beside her grave. I can hear her voice and I replay some of the memories as I stand there.
Towncraft underwear and socks every Christmas!
Sitting beside her in church.
Seeing her do her crossword puzzles.
Making me write a sentence 500 times that I would not do whatever sin I had committed again, with her goal of improving my handwriting. It didn’t work!
Seeing her head bob all over the place as she would fall asleep in car rides of more than thirty minutes.
Feasting on amazing meals!
I have been extremely blessed to have had her as my mother, and I miss her greatly!
Categories: children, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: accent, elderly parents, grief, grieving, Jed Clampett, losing a parent, loss, Mothers, mourning, Parkinson's, The Beverly Hillbillies
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August 27, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. August 27, 2016
Like dark clouds appearing over Pike’s Peak, I could feel it coming on yesterday! A head cold! I think I’d rather have a hemorrhoid than a head cold, but this isn’t “Let’s Make A Deal!”, and I didn’t get to choose between Door Number 1 and Door Number 2.
I hear the phrase quite often, “Fighting a cold!” There’s probably some legitimate remedies that we soldiers of life can follow for that to happen, but for me it seems to be more “surrendering to a cold.” I just give in…let it do its thing…and pick up the scattered tissues afterwards.
I was talking to Sara, one of my local Starbucks employees and mother of three, yesterday morning and she mentioned how two of her kids had been out of school this week with colds. Maybe she planted the seed in my head, but it seemed like I started feeling a little tightness in my throat at that moment. By the end of football practice that afternoon my throat had a slight dryness to it, but I was hoping that was just connected to the amount of “corrected instruction” I had to do during the practice. By the end of dinner last night there was no question what my problem was. I checked our supply of tissue boxes before I went to bed.
This morning I’m sitting at my spot in Starbucks and every once in a while it feels like a bug is crawling down out of my left nostril. Thank God, it isn’t! But it is a nasal discharge, or, in middle school student language, snot! My voice makes me sound like Marlon Brando in The Godfather.
My white flag has gone up! I’ve surrendered! In a couple of days this culprit will get tired of me and move on, leaving me to pick up the pieces. Sometimes we just have to give in and give up, and write a blog post about the experience. I’ll surrender to my bed for a time of rest this afternoon, read a book, whine a little bit to Carol who will say how sorry she is…and then she’ll resume watching the Cubs game on TV. I’ll get a cup of hot tea and drink it with my pinky extended. I’ll make sure we have some Nyquil for bedtime to supplement another cup of tea, this time Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime blend. Like the inevitability of Finals Week for a college student, I’ll just get through it!
Head colds are direct consequences for the many times we’ve been head cases. They remind us that we’re fallen creatures living in the midst of other fallen creatures. I guest taught a seventh grade health class this week. The subject matter was “Nasty Habits That Mess With our Health.” One of the nasty habits was not covering our mouth and nose when we sneeze. the alarming statistic was that “snot” comes out of our nose and mouth at a hundred miles an hour and travels ten feet. Watch out! If I’m around my grandson, who hasn’t mastered the habit of sneezing in the bend of his elbow, I can easily get sprayed. It’s like getting slimed in a Ghostbusters movie. I don’t get upset. It is what it is!
The level of tissues in my Kleenex box is going down rapidly. Where does all this fluid in my nostrils come from? Why do es my head feel like a beachball? Why does it feel like I have to urinate every fifteen minutes? Why? Why? Why?
Forget the questions! I’m just surrendering to the reality…and thinking fondly of hemorrhoids!
Categories: children, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: blowing my nose, body ache, chest cold, coughing, feeling yucky, Head cold, hemorroids, illness, nasal congestion, NyQuil, scratchy throat, sickness, Sleepytime Tea, sneezing, sore throat, tissues, When you are fighting a cold, when you aren't feeling well
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