GONE

I write at length this week to remember some remarkable friends. God teaches us through wonderful people we have known.

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.

For several years we exchanged the same silly “old-age” birthday card featuring birds known for their longevity. For example, the Algerian condor, 106 years. We'd add an appropriate note each year as we sent it back and forth. Georgia also did something nobody else had done for me: she put on a surprise birthday party for my 65^th birthday. She was 81! But I came to her house to find many dear friends gathered to celebrate me! I cry to even think about it. She'd asked the guests to bring something (like fabric or gift cards) to support my ministry of sewing baby blankets I donated to local hospitals for families in need. Imagine, a party honoring that! In subsequent years, she'd always ask, “How many blankets are you up to?” (I got to 1,400 when she died.)

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 25^th Praise Gathering in Indianapolis. (Plus, featured in a Gaither Homecoming video.)

*13,500 at two California Christian school teacher conferences

Besides the mega-conferences, there were the smaller gatherings—like my church's “volunteer banquet.” After hearing him, I told my husband, I need to write up his story. Dan and his wife Judy were so gracious in that process, which eventually resulted in articles in major inspirational magazines. Then it went in a “Chicken Soup for the Soul” book. And finally, gathering together our notes, I helped him write his autobiography, Living Laughing and Loving Life. He self-published, selling or giving away an extraordinary 72,000+ copies. (The cover--reflecting Dan's sense of humor--showed his son cradling a fish like a baby and holding a granddaughter like a prize catch.)

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.

Living Looser

Our two kids were both in college when I sent them this doctored-up photo of their parents. How better to “lighten up” the pain of paying for college?

Though my personality runs to the serious side of the spectrum, I’ve found balance in letting humor seep from the seams. Even back in my scholar personality of high school, I self-appointed myself to spiff up the music room’s stale bulletin board with a page of jokes and cartoons, purportedly published by the BBBBBBC (Building Better Boring Band Bulletin Boards Committee).

Enter marriage and motherhood, and humor was a parental survival tactic. It was also one way to help build well-rounded children. Here are some of the things we did.

*Be imperfect. Our kids heard their parents laughing about their mistakes. Mine involved their dad’s new white tennis shoes for teaching elementary physical education. They’d gotten muddy, so one morning I tossed them in the “dark” wash load. They emerged pink, thanks to some new red pants in the same load. His foible as a life-long fisherman: flinging out a long cast with his favorite rod and reel and accidentally letting go of them. Plunk.

*Be imaginative. Our kids’ best toys came in a box that we filled…with yardage remnants, wigs, shawls, funky glasses, hats, allergy masks, old nightgowns and yard-sale costumes. Called the “dress-up box,” it aided hours of creative play. While the kids were still little, at Christmas we re-enacted the Nativity story with the kids as the key characters, Dad as the donkey and Mom multi-tasking the extra roles. Another box held hand puppets (found at yard sales and thrift stores) that starred in original puppet shows behind a “couch” stage.

*Be irrational. Sometimes we changed the rules, like having dessert before dinner, or having the kids be “cook” and “waiter” for guests Mom and Dad at the kitchen table. Over milk and crackers, the parents hammed it up with atrocious manners like talking with food in our mouths, using fingers instead of forks, and arguing over who got the biggest portion. We called it “teachable moments” as the kids saw their own bad habits.

*Be interactive. Playing together included charades with Bible characters (Samson flexed his muscles and combed his hair, bent-over Sarah swaddled a baby). On long car trips it meant add-on stories (“There once was a weary mother who…”) and alphabet drills (F my name is Felix, and I live in Farmington and sell frankfurters). And yes, besides letting the kids play “fort” with sofa cushions, chairs and lots of sheets and blankets, we actually crammed a tent into the living room for a “camp-in.”

*Be infamous. Celebrate being “normal” and prone to funny stuff. We had “code names” for hilarious family events. “Eagles” recalled the zoo trip to see raptor birds and Mom getting disgusting “plops” in her hair while she stood under a tree for shade. “TP Streamers” coded a bare-bottomed 18-month-old streaking out of the bathroom with a lengthening stream of toilet paper in hand. We also started a “Funny File” notebook where we pasted all those too-close-to-home cartoons retired from tenure on the family refrigerator.

Trust me, a sense of humor can defuse some not-so-fun experiences. One afternoon a split scalp from a fall sent me to the emergency room. Home again with the wound stapled shut, I found my teens unusually solicitous in offering me ice and an afghan while I rested in my recliner. Later, after much behind-the-bedroom-door giggling, they presented me with a get-well card in which they’d expressed their love and kisses with X’s and O’s--created with a desk stapler.