I Love to Tell the Story

I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
of Jesus and his glory, of Jesus and his love.
I love to tell the story, because I know it’s true;
it satisfies my longings as nothing else would do.
I love to tell the story; ’twill be my theme in glory
to tell the old, old story of Jesus and his love.
(ELW #661)

…that is Lyle’s song…and it speaks of his life.

I wrote about Lyle last week.  At that time he was living his last days.  On Thursday, Dec. 11, at 7:30pm, Lyle took his last breath and I had the honor of being there with various members of his family.  I have been at the bedside of other people as they died but this one was different.  As I said last week, Lyle was like a grandpa to Connie and I so to watch him die was not easy.  Lyle was also a great proclaimer of the faith.  He did this through his words but probably more loudly through how he lived.  The quote from St. Francis of Assisi was indeed true for Lyle:  “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary use words.“

But I want to share one thing that happened that night; something I will never forget.  At around 7:3opm we knew that the time was close.  One of the kids turned off the light above Lyle’s bed and for the first time in a couple days, Lyle opened his eyes.  That was a powerful moment.  It was like he was taking one more look at us before he went to see Jesus and Gladys (his wife who died in Feb.) again.  A couple minutes later he breathed his last.  Of course their were tears, but it was different.  They were tears who came from people who had hope.  Then one of his daughters summed up what we were feeling…she said, “I feel so at peace.“

WHAM!

That was exactly it.  That is the peace that Jesus came to bring; a peace that surpasses all understanding.  It is a peace that we feel when a loved one dies (at least for those whose faith is in Jesus).  It is a peace that tells us not to be afraid.  It is a peace that allows us to say, “See you later.“  The peace that came with the Christ child at Christmas is the very same peace that filled Lyle’s hospital room on Dec. 11.

I am sad that Lyle is gone and I will miss him greatly, but I feel at peace.  Lyle is no longer suffering and Lyle is not gone forever.  He’s gone (physically) from this life, but not from our hearts and minds.  Lyle is not gone forever, but through Christ we will all be reunited again.

May the peace of God that surpasses all understand guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord.  And was we live in this peace, let’s join together in praising God always and forever.

“See you later, Lyle.“

-edh-

“Minnesota nice” might not be so nice

When someone is grieving the loss of a loved one or the loss of a dream, "Minnesota nice" does not come in handy.

That above phrase is just one of the many things I am taking away from my week of continuing education (and it is only Tuesday).  My class on Dying, Death and Continuing Care ended at noon today and now I am combing through my notes.  The instructor, Ted Bowman, came with about 40 years of experience and gave us so many valuable nuggets, that it will take me a while to process everything.  But one thing that does stick out is the above phrase and how I have conducted bereavement care.  I know there are many things I need to improve on.  I have been complimented many times on the funerals I have presided at and the care I gave up to the funeral, but its the continuing care after wards that I have sucked at (excuse my language).  I need to make some changes.  Grieving does not end after the funeral is done, but continues on for quite some time…months, even years.  I am not saying that I have ignored people, but I am wondering if I have tried to rush people through their grief.  I am wondering if my bad case of "Minnesota nice" has clouded the way I treat people.  "Minnesota nice" may be nice, but not when it comes to grieving.

One of my favorite questions is: "So…how are you doing?"  But I am not the only one infected with a bad case of "Minnesota nice", because often times the response I get is, "I’m hanging in there" or "I’m doing O.K." or "Not bad considering…".  So instead of asking the questions that "demand" a "Minnesota nice" answer, I need to probe some more; I need to give people permission to grieve.

Another continuing care idea that I am taking away from the week (and something I thinking about implementing when I get home) is to remember, announce, and lift up death anniversaries in worship.  I don’t want grieving people to think we (the church) have forgotten about them.  So on the one year anniversary of someone’s death (or close to it) a special prayer would be lifted up in worship for the family.  I have not completely worked this out yet on how this is going to happen, but want to do some kind of acknowledgment.   What do you do?  How do you remember death anniversaries?

Lastly…a resource I want to share with you all is a website we were given:  www.adec.org.  This is the Association for Death Education and Counseling.  There are a number of good resources here and I have only scratched the surface.  Check it out and let me know what you think.

I am so thankful I took this time for myself.  I know it is tough on my wife when I am gone for extended periods of time and I do miss her so as well.  But when I come back from weeks like this I feel so refreshed and energized.  I come back feeling stronger and happier.  So thank you to Salem and Belmont for allowing me to take these continuing education weeks.  And thank you to my loving and supportive wife (honey…I’ll be home be you know it).  I will be back to share more "valuable nuggets" with you as I comb through my notes more.  In the mean time, take care and God bless (and I am not just being "Minnesota nice"…I mean it).

-edh-