Archived posts from May 2007
I went with my parents today to decorate the graves of their parents. I lost my first grandparent, my dad’s dad, in 1973. Grammy was widowed for 31 years, after having been married for 47--lots of years, but not so surprising when you know she lived to be 100. My mom’s mom died at age 82 in 1989, and her husband lived seven years after her. Their graves are all right here in town.
We had to drive out to the country to see the great grandparents graves, and assorted other special aunts and uncles and other relatives. I got to hear a lot of stories. Tombstones also tell a lot of stories, mostly sad ones.
This is the grave marker of my great grandparents, my mother’s mother’s mother Nellie and her husband Rufus Shepherd. She was born in 1870, and he was born in 1873. They married and had a baby boy, who they had to bury--a blond haired, blue eyed boy named Dale.
DALE D.
son of
J.R. and N.A. SHEPHERD
Died Mar. 1st 1900
Aged 3 y. 3 m. 8 d.
Weep not Papa and Mama for me
For I am waiting in glory for thee
Heartbreaking. It would be three years before Rufus and Nellie would have another baby, and she lies next to her brother. Baby Velma.
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VELMA F.
Dau of
J.R. & N.A. SHEPHERD
Died Feb. 16, 1904
Aged 11 m. 6 d.
Rest sister rest in quiet sleep
While friends in sorrow over thee weep
My mom knew that Dale had died of spinal meningitis, while the baby Velma died of pneumonia. We would say that it was more sorrow than any couple could bear. But many did bear it. Infant mortality was high. It didn’t make it any easier.
Another girl would come three years later. Crystal Naomi. Rufus and Nellie had endured seven years of mourning and waiting and hoping, but Crystal would live, have six children of her own, and one day become my grandma.
And then came the boy, Vern. How Nellie loved her boy! He would stay right there in King City all his life, and work at the train depot. He walked home every day for lunch, and one day at lunchtime, at age 47, he opened his front door and fell inside dead of a heart attack
My mom remembers Vern--she loved him too. She remembers seeing her Grandma Nellie at the funeral, inconsolable, wailing, "My boy, my boy!" and kissing his cold face repeatedly. What pain she must have suffered when the two little ones died. She was widowed early, at age 53 in 1923, and stayed a widow for many years. As an old woman in her eighties, she married Mr. Blessing. And that’s what she called him too! No one seems to remember if he had a first name. But he turned out to be a blessing to Grandma Shepherd, if only for a few years.
There was another daughter, eight years younger than Crystal--her name was Alma. My own mother’s children came just like Grandma Nellie’s did, the girl--me, a boy two years later, and then six years later, another girl. Aunt Alma was married but remained childless all her life--she was like a second mother to Crystal’s brood of six.
I saw more sad stories in tombstones today--
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Malinda T., the 19-year old bride of Thomas, who died in 1874
Maryann and Ruth Ann, who left D. Spainhower widowed twice. Maryann died in 1848, 32 years old. Ruth Ann, his second wife, died in 1854 at age 33. The markers are nearly identical, except that the second one is taller. Perhaps D. has become a little more prosperous? Again, death was a frequent early visitor at this time in history, but no more welcome then than now.
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This is Nellie’s mother and father, my mother’s mother’s mother’s mother and father. Their tombstone is in surprisingly good shape--either someone replaced it along the way, or I need to find out what type it is and make sure I buy the same thing. Stephen and Elizabeth lived in Maysville, Missouri, and my Aunt Alma informed me when she gave me their portrait that Stephen had the first brick house in Maysville and the first store-bought suit. Everybody’s got to have their claim to fame! I have that portrait hanging in our family room next to the woodburning stove.
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I hate death. Death is the last enemy. Someday death will be swallowed up in victory. Nellie and Rufus will be reunited with all five of their children, and their parents Stephen and Elizabeth. And won’t they be excited when they get to meet me!
I taught a class tonight on Old Testament History and had a lot of fun. I stayed after for almost another hour discussing the history of Israel after Christ and visiting. As I drove home, I realized I was a little hungry and decided to run through a drive-up window. I hadn’t had time for a real supper before class, and I wanted a taco!
Taco Bell is the only fast food restaurant we frequent on a regular basis—it’s a weakness. Brian religiously drives through every Friday night late on his way home from church, and religiously orders three tacos without exception. I need a little more frivolity in my life. I like to mix it up. He never knows what I’ll order, and I also usually manage to sneak in another visit sometime during the week.
It was 9:30 and there were three cars ahead of me in line. I pulled into position and reached for my purse. Hmm. It wasn’t where I usually toss it. I squirmed around and searched the back seat and the floor of the back seat. Oh no, no purse. I am such a scatterbrain. I’ve left it back at the church.
I quickly looked to see if I could back out of line. Oh no, there are already two cars pulled in behind me, and no way out. For a brief second I considered jumping out of the car and running back and asking them to back up, and realized how ridiculous that would look. So I frantically began to search the car for errant quarters or other loose change. No luck.
Oh no, I’m next in line to order. I pull up to the little box, and rolled my window down. I guess I thought I owed somebody an explanation. A voice said, "Welcome to Taco Bell, please order whenever you’re ready." I opened my mouth to start to say I don’t know what. Nothing came out. I hit the accelerator and rolled my window back up.
I pulled up behind the two cars waiting at the window, and sat there. When the one in front of me had got their order, I again accelerated, driving right past the window, looking straight ahead. I felt stupid. I could have stopped and explained, but I thought I would feel stupider.
I drove back to the church and got my purse, and went on home. I really didn’t need a taco tonight.
Is God real? If He is, then all this talk that "He is whoever He is to YOU" is nonsense. He is who He IS. In fact, He said something startlingly similar once, talking to a guy named Moses at a place where a shrub was on fire. Then He told the guy to take his shoes off. In many cultures, probably that one too, slaves are the barefoot ones. I think God was letting Moses know in no uncertain terms that He was the boss man, He was in charge here--what He said was the way it was.
This is part of the very foundation of the Bible narrative. God establishes his supremacy very early in the story. God is God, and you are not. You are a puny little human, a strange hybrid of animal and angel. You have been given a sacred and unique opportunity that no animal enjoys, the ability to know God. And you better watch out. Yes, you can become the friend of God--stop and think about that--but He can also crush and destroy you if you don’t relate rightly to Him. You’d better get your act together. Oh, worship the Lord and tremble before Him!
I see way too many "Christian" people who have a funny idea about who God is. Bob Dylan says they think He’s just an errand boy to satisfy their wandering desires. And when He doesn’t, when they face disappointment, sometimes in big things, but sometimes in surprisingly small things, they say they’re "mad at God." Whenever people tell me that, which happens fairly often, I cringe. I think they’re treading on dangerous ground. Proverbs says repeatedly, "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom, the beginning of knowledge."
I claim to "know" God. There is an absurdity, though, in that statement, a preposterousness. How can anyone "know" God? We can know God only because He wants to be known. And one of our main jobs here on earth is, with every ounce of being we possess, to press in and to struggle to know Him better, to explore and ponder and examine and wrestle and come to a deeper knowledge of Who He is. It the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to seek out a matter.
We do that by reading and studying diligently the Bible, a book divinely given to us that we might know Him, but not reading and studying apart from experiencing life. We must do these things and live this life with an attitude of humility, knowing we are flawed, knowing we must change, receiving from one another and from the gifts God gave the church, which includes pastors and teachers. We learn when we combine what we are taught from the Bible with those experiences we all encounter going through life—heartaches, disappointments, disagreements, and yes, some joyful milestones, too. We come to know God when we interact with and come to know others, when we are children, parents, spouses, neighbors, co-workers, and every other kind of relationship there is.
We think we know God, and then we are brought up short when something unexpected happens. What must be foundational in our understanding is that when there is a conflict, the problem is OURS, not His. We must change. He is God, He does not change.
There are disappointments so deep that the word does not do them justice--the betrayal of a friend, the betrayal of a spouse, the breaking of covenant. The death of a loved one whose healing we had prayed for and been convinced would happen. These things shake our faith, steal our joy. They can be for us the "dark night of the soul," the times we feel comfortless, bereft, empty and confused. They are the times when we sense an evil presence stalking us and looking for an opportunity to consume and destroy us. We must fight through that darkness, resist that enemy--believe that God is creating something glorious in us, and will, after we have suffered for a little while, perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle us. We will go through that dark night and come out into the sunshine of His grace changed, transformed, and enriched. That is the essence of true faith, the hope of glory.
To be angry at our Creator God is a form of insanity. To turn our backs on the only One who can help us, the Answer, is surely the epitome of foolishness. I know people who have essentially said, "I’m mad at you, God, so I won’t go to your house anymore. I’m mad, and I’m going to do the things I gave up when I decided to follow you. I’ll be like a dog returning to his own vomit. God, you didn’t do what I asked. I’ll show you!" Little man, little man, your arms are far too short to box with God.
Job’s attitude was, "Though He slay me, I will trust Him." God wasn’t trying to kill Job, but from Job’s perspective, it felt like it. Yet He knew God was His only hope. We need to fall in His arms of mercy and grace, and trust Him when we don’t understand. I know and am convinced that God is good, but even if He weren’t, God would still be God.
Exodus 3
Psalm 96:9
Proverbs 1:7, 29-31
Proverbs 25:2
Ephesians 4:11, 12
Malachi 3:6
I Peter 5:8-10
Proverbs 4:18
Psalm 32:3,4
Psalm 35:15
Psalm 41:9
2 Peter 2:22
Job 13:15
We travelers, walking to the sun, can’t see
Ahead, but looking back the very light
That blinded us shows us the way we came,
Along which blessings now appear, risen
As if from sightlessness to sight, and we,
By blessing brightly lit, keep going toward
That blessed light that yet to us is dark.
VI, Sabbaths 1999
Wendell Berry
**************************************
It was when I was happiest that I longed most...
The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing...
to find the place where all the beauty came from"
C.S. Lewis
You’ve heard the saying, "A book can take you places you’ve never been." Think of a memory of a place you visited as a child, and then the memory of a place you visited in a vivid, well-written book, especially a book you read as a child. There’s not much difference, is there? Those "places" are preserved in roughly the same way in your mind, like a dream.
Think of a dream that was so real you have difficulty knowing whether it really happened.
I loved my grandmother’s house, the house of my childhood, the house she moved from when I was fourteen. A couple of years ago I drew the entire floor plan from memory, as a way to savor and remember things that happened there—the hall closet, the clothes chute, the basement with the fruit cellar, the wonderful attic. I also loved the house I visited in the Narnia books, the professor’s rambling old country house. I was at my grandmother’s house hundreds of times, but I’ve also visited the professor’s house time and again, and I know it too, and consider it a very special place I love to revisit in my mind and in my reading.
One of the most memorable books I ever read was Lilith, by George McDonald. George McDonald lived in the nineteenth century in England, and was a mentor and great inspiration to C.S. Lewis and other great writers of the twentieth century. No, they never met, but Lewis treasured his books, acknowledges his inspiration, and even put together an anthology of his writings. (A great example of knowing something or someone you’ve never met, except in books.) George McDonald also appears by name in the Lewis masterpiece, The Great Divorce, as the guide who explains much of what heaven is about.
The book Lilith is a Christian allegory, and starts out in a wonderful rambling old English house. Much of the main floor is a library, and rooms have been added on somewhat haphazardly as the library has grown. It is an impressive house, nonetheless, and described in vivid detail. As I read, I began to love that house, as well.
Some unusual people live in that house, including an old librarian, who doubles as a butler, wears an old black suit with tails, and one day becomes a bird, a black raven, whose tail looks a little like that of the old black suit. Things are not always as they seem! He lures and beckons the owner of that house to venture places he’s not been before.....and the man, Mr. Vane, finds himself entering another world through a portal he finds in the house....
WAIT A MINUTE!!!! I’m suddenly gasping for air! I’ve read this before! This is Narnia! This is where C.S. Lewis found Narnia!!!!
I was indignant for a moment, even perhaps a little angry. But then I realized everyone is inspired by something, very little in this world is truly original, and C.S. Lewis took a great idea, and created something very unique and truly awesome, and never hid the fact that this man was a huge inspiration to him. I read on.
The first few chapters of this book were brilliant. There are few books that have made such a dramatic impact on me. I could visualize everything that happened so graphically. Once the talking raven had hopped outside in the rain, and tried to entice Mr. Vane to leave the safety of the house and follow him. A few days later, I was driving in the rain, and passed a house where a large black bird was sitting in the yard. I nearly slammed on my brakes, thinking for just a second it was surely Mr. Raven, that mysterious bird librarian.
One of the most memorable quotes from the book is this small conversation that Brian often quotes: (he wrote about McDonald here )
Mr. Raven: This is the way.
Mr. Vane: I am quite content where I am.
Mr. Raven: You think so, but you are not. Come along.
This book is a Christian allegory, a journey, a pilgrim’s progress. I loved the first few chapters, couldn’t put it down in fact, and was so excited about finishing it, so surprised that it wasn’t a well known classic. I thought I’d found true hidden treasure. And then disappointment set in. Things began to be very, very strange.
The whole book took a strange turn. Not just a strange chapter, or section. I mean things got so weird I had a hard time finishing the book. Mr. Vane was traveling, traveling, and things weren’t going at all like I expected. It was just very, very strange, confusing.
Of course, you could say that sometimes it seems that’s the way the Christian life is! Strange and confusing! I persevered through the book, but it was tough. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that the beginning had been so wonderful, that surely it would get back on track.
I finally managed to make it to the end, and it did resolve—Mr. Vane did "make it" to his destination, but I was incredibly disappointed—the end was anticlimactic for sure.
But the images of those first few chapters were indelibly imprinted upon my mind. I found myself revisiting that place again and again in my thoughts. And so a year later, I tried the book again. With much the same results. The beginning was thrilling, and then turned to confusion. I didn’t finish the second time through. I found myself happy that Lewis had taken up where McDonald left off and created something that millions of people have thrilled to. But I’m sure I’ll try again....I just can’t get that book out of my mind.
EDIT--18 hours later: This blog was written late at night--upon re-reading I wish I hadn’t said "incredibly disappointed"....I still think about the book all the time. I think the problem was not the book, but me. I will definitely be giving it another shot....
On a personal note: I still have a cat. Sort of. I hadn’t seen her since LAST Sunday, a week ago, but she showed up tonight on the deck after a day of monsoon rain and came inside. She couldn’t get enough loving, crawled all over me, loving me and purring somewhat hoarsely, she must have caught cold! And then the silly thing wanted back out, and it started to rain again, she was huddled up against the house on the deck, but wouldn’t come in, and ran when I tried to pick her up. (still a little addle-brained) So I left the door open for a while, and went to get some clothes out of the dryer. A few minutes later, my son was shooing something off the deck—it was a POSSUM! And there the door was standing wide open! I would have freaked for sure if that critter had come in....thank God he didn’t.
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