We hadn't driven west of our neighborhood for a while—east is the route that takes us to “town”--and were shocked by a gap just a block west away. An old house in that block was gone—torn down, most of the debris removed, only a derelict “free” refrigerator by the sidewalk. A couple decades ago it had been replanted there by house-movers who lugged it about a mile and a half from a high-profile spot near the town's major health clinic. Now, it was gone.
The symbolism of that neighborhood loss was stark for me, as within days three dear Christian friends died. Gone....to Heaven. But gone from earthly contact. All were role models for me. As I have processed their deaths—correction, their Home-goings—I have reconsidered the words of Moses in Psalm 90 as he anticipated his own death at age 120:
Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom....Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days....May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands. (Psalm 90: 12, 14, 17)
Longtime friends from our church, Al and Georgia Burgener were 95 and 90 when they died within a short time of each other on Sept. 15. Their daughters were with them as the end came in the comforting surroundings of their neat, cared-for home. Al was a worker-bee who lived quietly and diligently. After a career delivering milk, he went to work as a church janitor, serving way into retirement years. He kept their home's yard immaculate, even into this last year—with the concession of hiring out the lawn mowing. He also loved sports and sometimes shared watching games with my husband.
Georgia was the complement to Al's quiet demeanor. Outgoing, social, she made friends wherever she went. Neither she nor Al were Christians when they married. Four daughters came in rapid succession, and in the busyness of mothering Georgia felt her spiritual void. She visited a church—daughters in tow—and had a follow-up visit that led to her accepting Christ as Savior. She kept praying for Al, and in time, he, too, decided to follow Christ. A quiet man, he honored the Lord through his diligence and steadfastness.
As their daughters grew into beautiful, talented teenagers, the boys came around. She insisted that their dates be Christian young men. That meant that some heard her present the “Four Spiritual Laws.” As a result, lives were changed. Some ended up in ministry vocations. Her nest empty, she still impacted her world and growing “grand” family. Her outside-the-home interests—including “senior swims” at the YMCA and a weight-loss group—became platforms for her faith. I remember her joy when one of her swim-partners started coming to church.
I was about a decade older than her daughters, but she still scooped me into her friendship circle after my marriage. She modeled good people skills for me. She also modeled service. When I broke my ankle at a terribly inconvenient time (I was care-giving my mother-in-law, slipping into dementia), Georgia was among those who showed up with beautiful meals to help carry us through the worst of being “laid up.” Later I returned the favor a few times when they went through illness. By her reaction, you would have thought my plain cooking was something a gourmet chef whipped up.
More important, Georgia prayed. She knew the burdens of my heart. She prayed and checked up on the requests. About two weeks before her death, when Al was struggling to live, I called and asked if we could have a “two minute porch visit.” With Covid concerns (even though we'd both been vaccinated), she sat in a chair on the porch and I had a chair in the walkway. She, the encourager, now needed encouragement. Two minutes went to fifteen. I broke the “no-contact” protocol and hugged her when I left. I had no idea that in the next two weeks a cancer diagnosis and major stroke would end her life. How sweet that Heaven called both the same night.
Three days later, I got word that an incredible friend, Dan Miller, died at 84, his polio-damaged body just worn out. Some thirty years earlier, I heard him speak at a banquet honoring church volunteers, and it was a WOW! event. He was one of the last victims of polio in North Central Washington in 1955, just weeks after he graduated from high school as a decorated athlete. Yet, despite profound disability, he headed for college determined to major in physical education! As he put his dream before his college advisor, the wise man said, “Let's see what you can do.” And Dan did it, becoming (like my husband) an elementary physical education teacher despite significant paralysis. Plus, he taught himself to play guitar (holding it backwards to accommodate his disability) and played in a band. And, later, he got his pilot's license and even flew an ultra light.
Finally, when post-polio problems made his daily school-administrator-role harder and harder, he retired early, transforming his occupation into “inspirational speaker,” sharing through humor and honesty his life story of breaking barriers. Mostly through word-of-mouth, his opportunities exploded over the next twenty years. In more than 1,500 presentations, he spoke to thousands in 44 states and provinces. He had major appearances:
*8,000 at the “Million Dollar Round Table International Conference”
*6,000 at back-to-back services at Schuller's Crystal Cathedral
*12,000 at Gaither's 25th Praise Gathering in Indianapolis. (Plus, featured in a Gaither Homecoming video.)
*13,500 at two California Christian school teacher conferences
Because of the friendship that developed through our interviews and contacts for the articles, it was a natural transition to help him prepare his autobiography—without charge. Asking for pay never was in my plan. I was simply glad to help spread his amazing life message. But Dan and Judy were givers. I needed a newer computer. He gave me his when he upgraded. Then came a traumatic year when we were nearly killed by a drinking driver. A few months later, Dan was speaking in our town and called our home. I was at the hospital with our son, who needed some treatment for his face scars from the wreck. My husband took the call; Dan told him to take me to a certain computer store. While in town, he had picked out a new system for me, paid for it, and told the salesman who to call. I wept over this extravagant gift—a boost to me and to our high school kids as the technological age took hold. For several years, they also sent unexpected/unsought checks of “appreciation”--sharing the blessings of his speaking ministry.
In our life journeys we will encounter difficult people and wonderful people. God knows we need the latter's encouragement. And as we have been blessed, we are in turn to bless others. How grateful I am for these “senior-than-me” folks who lived out in winsome ways the Lord's command to “love one another.”
I miss them. We will meet again. The house has left the lot. There's an empty spot on earth. But there's a new home, in Heaven.
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