friends
Twenty-seven gathered near and under the edge of the tent bearing the funeral home’s name. They had just left an hour long designated time of mingling and reminiscing in the funeral chapel surrounding a small table of pictures and the box bearing his ashes. Some faces I knew well whereas others bearing a faint familiarity from years gone by suddenly became alive in my memory as they uttered their name. The friend in whose honor and memory we gathered must have been smiling to his heavenly self as we were interacting just as he had expressed would be his desire. Morris was a modest man, full of humor while being grounded in the clay of practicality that held him close to it for seventy-three years. He had told his cousin Betty precisely how he wanted to see this gathering conducted and he had shared with me his graveside desire as well. Eighteen months before he had called me to make sure I was at home since he was planning on “dropping” by to see me. He and I shared a first cousin who we both adored and who had passed away two years prior. Although we had talked about once each month over the phone, I had not seen him since our cousin’s demise. As he slowly and somewhat feebly got out from his car with a welcoming and gleeful smile, a cheerful voice inquired as to my wellbeing. After a few moments of friendly chatter, he said profoundly; “I’ve been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer that has spread to other organs and I have about a year to live.” “Thomas,” he said, “I would like for you to do my service.” He was eager to reassure me that he was not afraid to meet his maker and that he was so very thankful for the years and life he had been gifted. We sat quietly on the porch that morning as I pledged my reverent honor to his wishes and gave thanks for his presence in my life. As we gathered around the gravesite this past Saturday, we shared memories and expressed our gratitude to the great giver of grace and the love that has filled the space that was carved out by our dear friend, Morris. “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13, NIV)
As we rounded each curve on the winding mountain road the misty rain was turning into layers of semi dense fog. Construction traffic had delayed our arrival by almost an hour, but the spectacular views through the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia had brightened our way. Now, at the highest point along the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania, we greet friends from the past and say hello to new ones with whom we will be sharing most of the weekend in this creaky but cozy old retreat center. Stiff and sore from the hours of confinement, this host to Parkinson’s begins to limber up during rehearsals with the chorus for the evening’s special music. Gratitude soon takes its place in the forefront of thoughts as we catch up with old acquaintances over dinner and prepare our hearts for the evening’s worship and discussion. The first message we hear challenges one to remember that living out one’s faith renders witness to the presence of the One in whom our faith resides. As we concluded our time together that evening, the rhythm of the rain falling on the leaves of the massive trees just outside the window invited us to a place of rest and renewal that first evening back at Kirkridge Retreat Center.
We heard a car pulling into the gravel driveway. I went to the door to greet the first guests to arrive. Approaching the door was my former college roommate and his wife. Although we had met for a brief time to partially catch up some six months before, the memories of college life some forty five years before came rushing back. We were settling down for warm conversation and a brief recap of our Mediterranean and Aegean cruise and their excitement over an upcoming Panama Canal cruise they had planned when the second car arrived. Before me was another college dorm mate who had been a dear friend during those years long ago. He and his girlfriend settled into the warmth of the old farmhouse and we all chatted about times past and fond memories that seemed to flood our minds as though they were yesterday. Over our sumptuous lunch so lovingly made we each gave a brief account of careers and adventures since our graduation in 1968. Much had transpired and interestingly each man’s career had centered on one form or another of teaching and facilitating learning. The time together seemed to pass so quickly as each bid their farewell to homes two hours away. As I returned to the warmth of the farmhouse after wishing each safe travel back to their respective homes, I was filled with thankfulness for heartfelt reconnections with friends who had been and are now again so dear. I cherish with gratitude those special memories of times gone by and the anticipation of new memories to be created.
The scratching noise roused me from my cherished slumber as I began to recall that my son’s ferrets were up and at the food in their dish. It is our last full day in Florida this winter and we reflect on how blessed we are to have seen and shared moments with so many friends and family members. A tighter waist band gives evidence to the delightful meals shared with others. Tomorrow brings a day of travel and reorientation to life back at the farm. A routine that reduces the expanded waistline and restores movement and flexibility to pre-vacation states is part of the intention. Gratitude is filling our cup today as we reflect on the blessing of family and friends both near and far. Thankfulness will be the fuel that supercharges our journey back to seeing winter’s close and spring’s new beginning!
I was doing a quick login to a well known genealogy site to check on information about a great grandfather. Something I had never seen before caught my eye. The window said “message.” I scrolled over to it and clicked to open. As I read, tears filled my eyes as I realized it was a message from a cousin who was among my dearest friends as a child. I have not seen her in nearly fifty years. My last “Google” search had shown her in Charleston, South Carolina, but the message indicated she was living near Richmond, Virginia. Memories rushed back as I responded to her message with my current email address, telephone number and connection to this blog site. Last night I received an email that helped fill in some gaps. She shared with me the news that her husband had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease as well. The reconnection was growing deeper. Knowing that she is within a two hour radius from the farm is encouragement that we will reconnect in person soon. The ten siblings in my father’s family have long gone and of the offspring from those siblings, only six remain. As springtime gives promise of its not too distant arrival, I hope to facilitate a reunion of the Millner cousins who remain. What a blessing that an intended search for a great grandfather born in 1845 would render a reconnection to a cousin who was born more than a century later. Gratitude abounds today for blessings that lift thoughts to the wonders of God’s creation.
As the reception tent was being dismantled, Gracie the Golden pup was nosing her way into each person’s attention. Suddenly, from a car that just pulled behind the tent transport truck came a lady I didn’t recognize. As she approached, having maneuvered around the ever more excited pup, she looked at me and called my name from years ago. “Do you know who I am?” she asked. I looked deep into her eyes and was at a loss for recognition. She said her name and a flood of memories washed over me. She and I had gone to school together from grades one through twelve. I had directed her wedding our senior year in high school. She remarked at how different I looked and that she hardly recognized me upon her arrival that day. We reminded each other that fifty years of living had rendered us each with the “mature” looks we now express. We briefly reminisced and shared snippets of life currently before she parted for a part time care taking responsibility she has recently assumed. Commitment to stay in touch since we now live two miles apart was sealed with a hug. The journey to the place of childhood memories and experiences that day brought me to the realization that the move back to my childhood abode is not a journey back to my childhood. Today’s experiences are different from those gone before, but are made richer by the threads of memories that weave the fabric of now. Although PD is currently a recognizable chord, it only has a small role in the sum of life’s equation. Gratitude remains the multiplier that factors into the total of today’s rendering.