I've been thinking about grief lately. Not such a happy topic, I know. It would probably be nicer to think about happy things. I do that more than I think about grief, but grief is so much a part of life here. As we move through the years we experience different kinds of losses and those things become part of us forever. Family members and friends die, we lose a job, we move away from friends and communities we love, we lose a pet, sometimes relationships end painfully. Our lives are impacted and shaped by all of these experiences. Time can take the edges off the pain but if we sit still and think about one of those losses we still feel it. A little sadness, maybe some tears.
We've moved a few times. Along with the excitement of a new adventure, there is grief over what we left behind. We lost Karen's dad very suddenly and unexpectedly some years back. My sister's husband lost his battle with cancer about six years ago. Then a year later we lost Mom, also due to cancer. I lost a job a couple years ago. At that same time we had to have our Sheltie put to sleep. And we lost Dad just a few weeks ago. It doesn't make any sense to deny those things or the pain they brought.
Rather than denying them it seems to make more sense to embrace them. These are the things, along with countless blessings, God has sent my way to shape me and make me the man he wants me to be. He was there in the middle of these painful experiences just as much as he was through all the happy ones.
Thanks, God, for every experience, adventure, loss and blessing you send my way. You are Lord. I will grieve, but not "like the rest of men, who have no hope."
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
Some Thoughts I Shared at Dad's Funeral
Thank you for being here today. We’re encouraged that you came to help us celebrate Dad’s life and his coronation.
Dad loved people, including his family, he loved to have fun and he loved Jesus.
Dad loved to talk with people. When we camped as a family he would inevitably take a walk around the campground, visit other campsites, and engage people in conversation. It didn’t matter who they were or where they were from. He wanted to hear their stories and tell his. I expect that’s part of the reason he drove street cars and buses for 15 years. He had a steady stream of people to engage, all day long. And working at Bethel for 17 years he was surrounded by students who often heard him whistling his way down the hall on the way to take care of some electrical issue.
Now that Dad is his old self again I expect that, if he takes a break from praising Jesus, he’ll know half the people in heaven before the week is up.
Dad loved to travel. He satisfied that wanderlust by taking us camping. The vacation trips took us all over. Back east to visit New York City (pulling a popup camper right down through the heart of the city) to see the Statue of Liberty (and setting off some sort of alarm because we almost pulled that little camper with its forbidden propane tank through a tunnel), and Boston to walk the Freedom Trail, and Concord, and west to the Badlands and the Black Hills (one of his favorite places) and Mount Rushmore, and Yellowstone and Glacier and Banff, and farther west to Oregon and the Sequoias and San Fransisco and down to Los Angeles and San Diego and to Arizona and the Grand Canyon, and north for a trip around Lake Superior. In a tent and then a bigger tent and then a small camper and then a little bigger one. I’m so grateful for those adventures and those very special times together as family.
And there is the property on Green Lake. Those days at the lake were special to him and to all of us. Now five generations have spent some of their happiest days there. Building the house there helped satisfy his need to always be doing something with his hands -- tinkering, inventing, building, helping someone. When I was little I used to sit in church and play with hands. They seemed really big and strong to me.
Dad wasn’t shy, and he wasn’t shy about his faith. He loved Jesus. He was actively involved at church and made it an important part of our lives, too. He set an example of service by being so being involved in so many ways. (And I really have forgiven him and mom and my siblings for forgetting me at church one Sunday and not realizing it until they pulled into the driveway at home.)
Dad bounced back so many times from challenges to his health but a little while back he seemed to turn a corner. Several times in recent months Dad told us he was ready. And we got the sense he was simply waiting. The Apostle Paul, toward the end of his life said, “I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For me to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Dad knew that. He had 93 good years. To live was Christ, but to die was gain.
Following the example of a friend from New England, I shared this passage from Job with Dad the afternoon before he passed away: "I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes - I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me! (Job 19.25-27)" Dad did yearn for heaven over the past several months. He’s finally home.
Dad loved people, including his family, he loved to have fun and he loved Jesus.
Dad loved to talk with people. When we camped as a family he would inevitably take a walk around the campground, visit other campsites, and engage people in conversation. It didn’t matter who they were or where they were from. He wanted to hear their stories and tell his. I expect that’s part of the reason he drove street cars and buses for 15 years. He had a steady stream of people to engage, all day long. And working at Bethel for 17 years he was surrounded by students who often heard him whistling his way down the hall on the way to take care of some electrical issue.
Now that Dad is his old self again I expect that, if he takes a break from praising Jesus, he’ll know half the people in heaven before the week is up.
Dad loved to travel. He satisfied that wanderlust by taking us camping. The vacation trips took us all over. Back east to visit New York City (pulling a popup camper right down through the heart of the city) to see the Statue of Liberty (and setting off some sort of alarm because we almost pulled that little camper with its forbidden propane tank through a tunnel), and Boston to walk the Freedom Trail, and Concord, and west to the Badlands and the Black Hills (one of his favorite places) and Mount Rushmore, and Yellowstone and Glacier and Banff, and farther west to Oregon and the Sequoias and San Fransisco and down to Los Angeles and San Diego and to Arizona and the Grand Canyon, and north for a trip around Lake Superior. In a tent and then a bigger tent and then a small camper and then a little bigger one. I’m so grateful for those adventures and those very special times together as family.
And there is the property on Green Lake. Those days at the lake were special to him and to all of us. Now five generations have spent some of their happiest days there. Building the house there helped satisfy his need to always be doing something with his hands -- tinkering, inventing, building, helping someone. When I was little I used to sit in church and play with hands. They seemed really big and strong to me.
Dad wasn’t shy, and he wasn’t shy about his faith. He loved Jesus. He was actively involved at church and made it an important part of our lives, too. He set an example of service by being so being involved in so many ways. (And I really have forgiven him and mom and my siblings for forgetting me at church one Sunday and not realizing it until they pulled into the driveway at home.)
Dad bounced back so many times from challenges to his health but a little while back he seemed to turn a corner. Several times in recent months Dad told us he was ready. And we got the sense he was simply waiting. The Apostle Paul, toward the end of his life said, “I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For me to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Dad knew that. He had 93 good years. To live was Christ, but to die was gain.
Following the example of a friend from New England, I shared this passage from Job with Dad the afternoon before he passed away: "I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes - I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me! (Job 19.25-27)" Dad did yearn for heaven over the past several months. He’s finally home.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
When Life Whittles You Down
Quoting Ben Patterson, from his book The Grand Essentials:
My dad has led a rich, full life. Ninety-three years -- the stories he can tell of growing up on a South Dakota farm during the depression to serving in World War II to raising a family in Minneapolis. The adventures, the careers, the vacations, the friends, the churches. Ninety-three years. Few regrets.
Dad is not senile by any means, but he is so much more like Edna than like Ben Patterson's distant uncle. There is not a hint of bitterness in Dad these days. Sure, he misses Mom. We all do. But he has a deep, abiding faith, even now. When I look at Dad's essence, I like what I see. Dad has told me several times in recent months that he's ready. The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippian Christians, tries to decide whether it would be better to remain here or to depart and be with Jesus. He says, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." Dad is ready...and waiting. When he walks into the presence of Jesus I expect he'll hear "Well done." Then he'll fall on his face and worship. Then he'll go look for Mom.
I have a theory about old age...I believe that when life has whittled us down, when joints have failed and skin has wrinkled and capillaries have clogged and hardened, what is left of us will be what we were all along, in our essence. Exhibit A is a distant uncle...All his life he did nothing but find new ways to get rich...He spent his senescence very comfortably, drooling and babbling constantly about the money he had made...When life whittled him down to his essence, all there was left was raw greed. That is what he had cultivated in a thousand little ways over a lifetime. Exhibit B is my wife's grandmother...When she died in her mid-eighties, she had already been senile for several years. What did this lady talk about? The best example I can think of was when we asked her to pray before dinner. She would reach out and hold the hands of those sitting beside her, a broad, beatific smile would spread across her face, her dim eyes would fill with tears as she looked up to heaven, and her chin would quaver as she poured out her love to Jesus. That was Edna in a nutshell. She loved Jesus and she loved people. She couldn't remember our names but she couldn't keep her hands from patting us lovingly whenever we got near her. When life whittled her down to her essence, all there was left was love; love for God and love for people.Karen and I visited my dad today. He's 93. We woke him up so we could chat for a few minutes. I helped him sit up and swing his legs around so he could sit on the edge of the bed. Life has whittled him down. When I was little I used to sit in church and play with his hands. They were big and strong. There is still strength in his hands but he's frail now.
My dad has led a rich, full life. Ninety-three years -- the stories he can tell of growing up on a South Dakota farm during the depression to serving in World War II to raising a family in Minneapolis. The adventures, the careers, the vacations, the friends, the churches. Ninety-three years. Few regrets.
Dad is not senile by any means, but he is so much more like Edna than like Ben Patterson's distant uncle. There is not a hint of bitterness in Dad these days. Sure, he misses Mom. We all do. But he has a deep, abiding faith, even now. When I look at Dad's essence, I like what I see. Dad has told me several times in recent months that he's ready. The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippian Christians, tries to decide whether it would be better to remain here or to depart and be with Jesus. He says, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." Dad is ready...and waiting. When he walks into the presence of Jesus I expect he'll hear "Well done." Then he'll fall on his face and worship. Then he'll go look for Mom.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The Destination
I started a journey about 26 months ago. I called it my "Intergalactic Journey" because the careers I've had (only two at that point) have been so much more than jobs. They have been experiences that encompassed our lives. So I've been on this journey and now the destination has come into focus. When I was ten years old I started attending a summer camp for boys near Hinckley, Minnesota. I remember bumping up to camp riding with friends in the covered back end of a pick-up truck. (Thanks Wes for bringing me there and setting the course of my life.) We travelled along Highway 65 because Interstate 35 didn't exist. Our excitement escalated as we got closer to camp and we made up some sort of silly song just to vent all that built-up excitement. Isn't it amazing how God directs the course of our lives? In his providence my journey brings me right back to Camp Nathanael. Conversations with the folks at Camp Nathanael started just days after this journey started two years ago. In the meantime, I have submitted my resume to dozens of organizations, had numerous phone interviews, and travelled for interviews in Iowa, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Minnesota (three times). Early on, a Camp Nathanael board member shared that she had a strong sense that we would be working together at Nathanael in the future. Apparently Diana's intuition is Spirit-led. I attended camp at Nathanael starting at age ten. I was on the summer staff there all through high school and college. I have said many times that the ministry at Camp Nathanael shaped my life. If I have any leadership ability at all, the roots of it were planted at Nathanael. It was a young camp when I started attending, and now as the first full-time Executive Director I'll get to help the camp celebrate it's 50th anniversary next year. I'm grateful for the confidence and trust the Nathanael board has placed in me and I'm very excited about the adventure in front of us. I need a silly song...
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