A Life Well-Lived, Part Q, R, & S

Continuing my reflections through the alphabet in memory of my Dad. If someone wrote a series of essays about why they were thankful for you, what might they say? Writing these posts has been a sobering experience as I think about the themes in my life that my successors might find compelling, helpful, or lovely. [You can follow the entire series beginning here.]

Q - QUALITY. Some things are worth spending resources on to get the best quality. Like Dad spent time to visit me in my home, not just for an afternoon, but also for a stretch of days. Time for quality chats over quality meals made in one’s own kitchen. Or the advice on buying a good used car Dad gave me when I gave up driving a mini-van as an empty nester. “You need a car with oomph to get on the beltline without causing an accident where you live.” He recommended a Buick Regal with a 3.8L V6 engine. I still love and drive that car. 

Dad also knew the difference between quality and the fleeting value of investing in something solely because it was a popular brand, name, or idea. Things like designer coffee or clothes were not particularly the kind of quality that interested him. And so my sister and I laughed that Dad would have had a fit if he knew how much the new white shirt cost that we bought for him to wear to his funeral. 

The white shirts in his closet were looking a little worn, yet we knew Mom would want Dad to be buried in a crisp white shirt, one with cuffs for his set of blue cuff links and matching tie clip. My Dad was a short, stocky build and finding a shirt his size on a morning’s trip was not an easy errand. Thankfully, Snyder’s Men’s Shop in Goshen had just such a fine white shirt with cuffs and they altered it on the spot. Sometimes, on very special occasions, quality that is born in respect demands a small splurge. 

Sunday morning while visiting us in Muncie. Note the white shirt.

  

Thank you, Lord, that Dad’s life emphasized the right kind of quality; the quality of his planning, living, and thinking left his heirs a rich legacy of more than things, but attitudes about things that really matter the most in life. 

R – READ. A look around my parent’s home in recent years was telling. There were books, newspapers, magazines in any room where one might linger over coffee or in a comfy chair. My Dad liked to read the Wall Street Journal, and Mom often sent me a clipping of something he thought I should know about. His reading included fun things, inspirational writing, biographies, history, devotional books, travel books, and more. Dad never owned a computer, but was versed in world affairs and events. 

Over the last fifteen years or so, I often gave Dad a book for his birthday or holidays. He loved the writing of Chuck Swindol and I think the family bought him nearly all of that pastor’s oeuvre. Dad also gave me books, including one of his favorite related to worship, Real Worship by Warren Wiersbe. Rev. Wiersbe had been the pastor at Moody Church when I attended there while a student at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. Dad liked listening to Wiersbe’s radio program on the BBN channel. So there was a very special connection behind that book gift. 

When I was at the family home after Dad died, I went through all the books to retrieve those that I’d given Dad and Mom as gifts. It was a touching thing to look through them and see bookmarks, notes, as well as re-read the inscription I always put on the inside cover. I gave most of these books to my son, who is building a fine library of his own; special volumes to keep knowing they were from his Grandpa. 

I kept a few including the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I bought that for Dad 4 or 5 years ago, but he didn’t read it then. Mom however did. Three times, she told me. (Dad said he didn’t read it because Mom always had it in her stash). She was getting ready to head on up I think. After she died, Dad told me he read the book. I’ll read it this summer and feel close to both of my parents as I think about how they aren’t just mulling heaven over via a good book, but actually basking in its glories. 

Thank you, Lord, that the Dad cultivated the habit and pleasure of reading and passed that enjoyment on to many via his retellings of what he’d been reading, gifts of books, and the pleasant aura of being surrounded by friendly books in his home. 

S - SHORT. My Grandpa was not quite five feet tall if I remember correctly. My Dad was taller than that, but still shorter than many other guys were. He used to tell us stories of when he was in elementary school and was the shortest one in the class. Picked on by the taller bullies, he’d chuckle to tell us how he outwitted them on occasion. He may have been short in stature, but he was not short on wisdom, strength, or perseverance. 

A favorite Bible story of his was from I Samuel 17, the story of David slaying Goliath. I can still hear him reading this verse from the King James version:

And David spake to the men that stood by him, saying, What shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine, and taketh away the reproach from Israel? for who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God? [Emphasis my Dad’s].

Dad loved this story and this verse, as it reminded him that some things were worth standing tall for, even if you were a midget against the giant. No matter. Five smooth stones directed by God could sail past a host of fears and hesitations and hit the mark with Spirit-directed force. Perhaps David and Dad are swapping stories now, one short guy to a ruddy one. 

Thank you, Lord, that Dad knew the measure of a man was his heart and not his height. Thank you that, by your grace, this short boy from Amish farm country reached heights of happiness and fulfillment in life that others with far greater advantages only dream of attaining. 

MUSIC LINKS

Not One Sparrow Is Forgotten

 

We Shall Walk Through the Valley

This series of essays celebrating my Dad's life through the alphabet continues here.

A Life Well-Lived, Part N, O, & P

Continuing my reflections through the alphabet in memory of my Dad. The days since he died are passing by as I write these meditations. With each set, peacefulness is filling the space where fresh grief alone resided at first. I like to write listening to this piece. [You can follow the entire series beginning here.]

N – NANCY. My Mom called me “Nan” along with the rest of the family, but Dad often called me “Nancy.” I never really thought about that until now. I think it was his way of being tender with a daughter. When he’d call me after Mom died, and I didn’t answer, he’d leave a message:  “Yeah, Nancy? This is Pop.” I saved a couple of those voice mail messages on my phone.  

Thank you, Lord, that my parent’s named me “Nancy” which means “grace of God,” and that even the way Dad said my name reminded me of your love and grace.

O – ONE. Many children. One wife. Many hours in the day. One hour at the beginning of the day to read his Bible and pray. Many days in the week to work. One day set aside to worship his God. Many days in a lifetime. One day at a time. Many ways to do something. One way selected that seem best. Many places to travel to and visit. One place to call home. Many friends and relatives. One person to share a lifetime with (his dear Marie). Many colors in the rainbow. One favorite … candy apple red. Many plans, dreams, and ideas implemented in a lifetime. One over-arching goal … to spend eternity in heaven with the Lord. 

 

Dad helping me in the yard on a visit last fall.

Thank you, Lord, that of all the “manys” in his life, Dad knew and lived the important “ones.”  

  

P – PEACE. Having a Dad who was a peace with the world, himself, his family, and his God when he died is a true gift. Many people talk about peace. Everyone longs for it, even if that longing isn’t realized in an articulate way. I don’t remember Dad using the word “peace” much, if at all. But his life exemplified what the apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)

My parent’s home was a haven and place of peace. We all liked to gather there, be there. Filling the walls of a home with peaceful hours, gentle laughter, quiet being, takes a lifetime of good choices. Choices to concentrate on what Paul lists in the verse following those above:

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:8)

I watched my Dad accept with calm and a peaceful heart God’s plan for him in his last few weeks of life. No murmuring or complaining. Rather, peace that his heavenly Father had prepared a place in heaven for him, and that He would lead the way through that final valley of death.

Thank you, Lord, that Dad’s peace was deep, true, and anchored in Your word and promises.

MUSIC LINKS

Two pieces that remind me of the peaceful life Dad lived:

Faith of OurFathers

It Is Well 

Continue reading this series of essays here.

A Life Well-Lived, Part K, L, M

Reflections through the alphabet in memory of my Dad. I can hear my Dad's laugh as I write this, hear the banter around the table, and feel him sitting beside me at Duke Chapel for a concert. [You can follow the entire series beginning here.]

K – KIDS. What a chest full of memories I have of my Dad and kids. The energy and sometimes chaos that accompanies having many kids around always seemed to appeal to him. In the evenings when he was home and we were young, he often played “mush-pile” where he’d lay face down on the floor and all of the kids would pile on top.

He loved having all the grandchildren around too. 

Dad and Mom dished out hundreds of meals and provided interesting, if not unusual activities, particularly outdoors. Part of the provision was just having a large place for kids to spread their wings; out in the barn, fishing in the pond, ice skating on the other pond, building forts in the back pasture. 

With twenty plus grandchildren and more recently, great-grandchildren, kids were a welcomed and full part of Dad’s life. Whether group work, or a fun activity, like the grandkids riding his collection of old bicycles up and down the lane, Dad and Mom always had things for kids to do at their home. 

Grandchildren at Grandpa's House

Thank you, Lord, that my Dad had such  a large heart toward children and made each one feel loved and special. 

L – LAUGHTER. My Dad got his sense of humor from his Dad, and a good clean joke was something he enjoyed sharing. Laughter was deep in the walls of all his homes, flung there from the laughing presence of not just immediate family, but extended family, many friends, neighbors, and friends of his children. Dad understood that a smile or a laugh were simple, free, and a good and necessary part of everyday life. And he could laugh at himself too. Holding life with this balance of serious purpose and gentle laughter were gifts he gave me. 

In the photo below, we were playing a game, WIN LOSE OR DRAW. When it was Dad's turn to draw something (his team had to guess what it was), I still remember the howls of laughter as he drew these little stick figures and we guessed all kinds of wild scenes except the one he was drawing. And he could laugh at himself along with the rest of us. 

Thank you, Lord, that laughter was as natural to my Dad as breathing and that he gave that gift of merriment as a legacy to all his family. 

 

A Family Game with Adult Children, Grandchildren, and Neighbor

M – MUSIC. My Dad was not a musician himself. Yet he enjoyed music at some of the highest levels over the years. Going through the collection of CD’s in my parents’ home after Dad died, I was fascinated to see the extent of my parent's musical interest. Everything from yodeling to Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony. The latter Dad and Mom had heard at the Kennedy Center when they visited us in Virginia in 2005. Just last December, Dad sat beside me at Duke Chapel and heard the entire Messiah sung so rapturously in that incredible space.

In March of this year, Dad traveled 700 miles one way to hear the music for Holy Week and Easter at my church and other places in the Raleigh area. He was particularly moved by the Good Friday service at Resurrection Lutheran Church in Cary, a church where I had served in the prior decade.

In contrast, yodeling also held a special place in my parents' hearts; a young granddaughter from Colorado, who sings folk music so beautifully, also is an awesome yodeler. How they loved to hear her sing! When she visited them in the fall of 2011, Dad and Mom took her on an impromptu tour of several area nursing homes where she began playing guitar and singing in the gathering area, and soon a crowd of hungry-to-hear folk gathered and enjoy a brief concert. Her last time to sing for Grandpa was beside his bed at home last month. "Thank you Heidi. That was beautiful."

My Dad’s funeral was held at the Baptist church where he and Mom had been members all their married life. I played the grand piano there for his funeral, accompanying the grandchildren who sang, and playing a solo. That was deeply meaningful to me on several levels; first, because my Dad had heard me play the same solo I shared on numerous occasions and was one of his favorite pieces in my sacred repertoire. 

Secondly, Dad went with the music director, Jim Emory, when the new church facility was built to pick up this piano in downtown Chicago. He was always so proud that he had helped to get this fine instrument and place it in that sanctuary. How special it was to play that instrument for him one last time.

 

Dad at the Messiah (sorry about the photo quality)

The view from our seat for Handel's MESSIAH, December 2012

Thank you, Lord, that my Dad loved music, that it enriched his life so much, and that he introduced me to great music and the possibility of a career in music at a young age. 

MUSIC LINKS

Fanfare for the Common Man - James Levine, conducting The New York Philharmonic. When I first moved to Raleigh, NC, Dad and Mom visited in October. We attended a homecoming concert at Duke Chapel where we heard this piece played. (If you've been to Duke Chapel, imagine that opening timpani flourish echoing in that space!) That was the first of many concerts we attended together at Duke when Dad was visiting from Indiana. My Dad was a common man, but the fanfare that accompanied his entrance to heaven must have been breathtakingly beautiful.

Variations on the Doxology – played for my Dad one last time at his funeral. It is a fitting tribute to one who said in his last days, “God has been so good to me.” (i.e. praise God from whom all blessings flow…). You can download an audio file of this solo here.

Continue this series here.

A Life Well-Lived, Part H, I & J

Continuing today with reflections through the alphabet in memory of my Dad. What a joy it is to remember him and share a little about him in these posts! [You can follow the entire series beginning here.]

H – Husband. Of all the things that my Dad was--truck driver, farmer, deacon, Sunday School teacher, informal cookie baker--he loved and took most seriously his role as a husband and father. My parents were married almost 60 years when Mom died. Loving marriages that last this long are a beacon to the rest of the world. They shine out the truth that it is not good for man to be alone, and that the institution of marriage is a not only a treasure, but a good and foundational part of God’s order for the world.

During Mom’s final years, with declining health, my Dad’s love for her shone in new ways, like a rare full super-moon. He never complained about helping her with household chores, cooking, taking her to Dr. appointments, managing her medications and oxygen, and more. He was on top of all her medical needs, the unwieldy mass of insurance and Medicare paperwork, and all the events in their children’s and grandchildren’s lives. As he told me a year before she died, “I just want to keep her comfortable and happy.” And he did that so very well! 

Thank you, Lord, that Dad loved being a husband and loved Mom with a sincere, faithful love all the days of their married life.

 

My Parents on their Wedding Day

I – Interesting. A man can be a good father, worker, citizen, and still be somewhat dull to be around. Not our Dad. He always had interesting stories to tell, thoughtful observations about the world, and wise responses to earnest conversation and questions. As an adult-child, times spent visiting with Dad and Mom was eagerly anticipated, full of liveliness, and occurred often. The hand-written letters from him were somewhat rare, but always interesting treats. 

Before I left town after Dad died, I got up early one morning and went to McDonald’s there in his hometown where he liked to have morning coffee with a gaggle of friends. I spotted a number of tables scooted together with about a dozen seniors chatting and breakfasting. Sidling up near an empty chair, they all stopped mid-sentence and looked up at me. “Excuse me, but might you be the group of friends that my Dad enjoyed for coffee and breakfast many mornings?” 

These friends were delighted that I introduced myself. They pointed to Dad’s empty chair, where I sat down and heard some of the stories about their conversations with my Dad. His friends were interesting too! 

Thank you, Lord, that Dad was such an interesting person; interested in the world around him, the people in it, and a wide range of ideas.

J – Jesus. When Pastor Henry visited my Dad at home during his last week, Dad called out as the Pastor was coming into the room, “Good afternoon Pastor! I told Jesus I’m ready to come home, and I just don’t know why He’s taking so long-I’m still here!” It was an incredible comfort to hear my Dad say that. He repeated the sentiment numerous times in those last days. But that was only because Jesus had been a welcomed Friend, Savior, and Lord all of Dad’s life. As the children’s song says, he knew Jesus loved him because the Bible told him so.  

Thank you, Lord, that “Jesus” was not just one of the final words on Dad’s lips, but Jesus was a life-long presence and legacy in his life. 

 

MUSIC LINKS

I Will Be Here – Steven Curtis Chapman 

What a Wonderful World – Louis Armstrong

Jesus Loves Me – arr. John Ferguson  

You can hear the next entry in this on-going essay here.