So I have been worrying this post about my Grandfather's funeral since Tuesday, and still it hasn't taken form or style. I have wondered how to do him justice, but I cannot. Any attempt I have made to pen something of his life and death has failed. I will simply, as usual, share my heart. It may not be profound; it may not even be intelligent, but it is what it is.
I could tell you infinite details about the man he was, the life he lived or what was said about him in his death...but I will not. If you would like to know more about the man he was, you may visit THIS LINK. Instead, I have to tell you about family ties, the power I felt with so many kin under one roof. You may think I wax nostalgic, and I confess, I do.
The service was held at a traditional Lutheran church, the church my Grandfather's father helped build, the church where my Grandparents more-or-less grew up, where my Grandparents, great aunt, great uncles, mother, aunt, cousins and many others in my extended family were married, the church where my sister and I and many of our cousins were christened, the church where many of my family have been celebrated in death. My Grandfather helped build the annex in the 1950's and my grandparents worshiped, served and celebrated there for 60 years, and more.
I share all that to show you a glimpse of the history in this place. While most of the extended family has long since moved on from this church, there is a sense, probably for all of us, of coming home to this place. It is a fitting gathering for my patriarch that so many of the people he is related to by blood or by love come to say their final goodbyes to him here.
The service was beautiful. There was the singing of hymns, the presentation of a wonderful and humorous eulogy and slideshow by my father and my uncle (the sons-in-law), a recording of my brother (a classically trained vocalist) singing the 23rd Psalm, and kind and hopeful words shared by the Minister. There was also special, albeit spontaneous, recognition for Cindy, my grandfather's caregiver, for her tireless and extensive effort to keep him comfortable at home with my grandmother rather than having him admitted to a nursing home. She was embarrassed by the applause, but very deserving for the quality of life she gave to him in his last year.
After the service a reception was held in the same fellowship hall where countless other family events have been celebrated. While we all appreciatively ate the lunch prepared by the hospitality team, I mingled, enjoying the chance to catch up with cousins and other extended family and friends, many whom I have not seen in some years. At the same time, my children and their cousins went exploring in this mysterious building with all its hallways, basement rooms and secret nooks, precisely the same as I had done as a girl, and it made me feel the turning of time, the passing of a sort of ritual on to the next generation.
And it has recently become increasingly apparent to me that I am buffered from the eventual passing of my own parents by only one remaining grandparent...and as I reflected on the circle of life I realized that as I passed the rite of church-basement-exploration on to my children, I, in turn, inherited a new place in the passing of generations, one of which eventually will be mine.
So in this church, with all it's history, which could be tangibly felt in my opinion, something in my understanding of a role of a church shifted.
On this blog I have railed against all that I perceive to be wrong with the institution, and I still hold to those things, theologically speaking. However, I have failed to champion the churches all across America as the tie that binds that they are; for many people they are as much a part of the family as any living, human member. Maybe we, of my generation, are losing something in the evolution away from the "family church". Unfortunately, I fear too many churches are caught up in some directive to be the spiritual and moral authority in people's lives, rather than a place of stability and love I believe they are meant to be. In my grandparents case, it has been the latter, and the value of that to my extended family is priceless.
My roots runs deep in this place, close to 100 years have passed that this church has been a fixture in my family. The realization had an affect on me...it saddened me that in this day and age we are far too content to let family ties wither, and only something like a funeral will bring us all together again. Family is far more important than we realize when we are young. I know that now.
Monday afternoon, we went to the cemetery to bury our patriarch, and we were met with an honor guard. Seven soldiers who bear the duty of celebrating the life of American Veterans with guns, a trumpet, a flag, and most importantly, dignity and honor as fitting for their service.
As the shots were fired, it didn't escape me that we are even free at all to have religious beliefs in this nation only due to the service of our fathers. grandfathers, or great-grandfathers in WWII.
As the trumpeter played taps, I thought to every veteran who has died, especially those who do not have the benefit of a long and beautiful life, and I quietly thanked them.
And as they solemnly and precisely folded the flag that had draped his casket, handing it to my Grandmother with the words "On behalf of a grateful nation, we present to you this flag in honor of your husband's faithful service", I wept.
I could tell you infinite details about the man he was, the life he lived or what was said about him in his death...but I will not. If you would like to know more about the man he was, you may visit THIS LINK. Instead, I have to tell you about family ties, the power I felt with so many kin under one roof. You may think I wax nostalgic, and I confess, I do.
The service was held at a traditional Lutheran church, the church my Grandfather's father helped build, the church where my Grandparents more-or-less grew up, where my Grandparents, great aunt, great uncles, mother, aunt, cousins and many others in my extended family were married, the church where my sister and I and many of our cousins were christened, the church where many of my family have been celebrated in death. My Grandfather helped build the annex in the 1950's and my grandparents worshiped, served and celebrated there for 60 years, and more.
I share all that to show you a glimpse of the history in this place. While most of the extended family has long since moved on from this church, there is a sense, probably for all of us, of coming home to this place. It is a fitting gathering for my patriarch that so many of the people he is related to by blood or by love come to say their final goodbyes to him here.
The service was beautiful. There was the singing of hymns, the presentation of a wonderful and humorous eulogy and slideshow by my father and my uncle (the sons-in-law), a recording of my brother (a classically trained vocalist) singing the 23rd Psalm, and kind and hopeful words shared by the Minister. There was also special, albeit spontaneous, recognition for Cindy, my grandfather's caregiver, for her tireless and extensive effort to keep him comfortable at home with my grandmother rather than having him admitted to a nursing home. She was embarrassed by the applause, but very deserving for the quality of life she gave to him in his last year.
After the service a reception was held in the same fellowship hall where countless other family events have been celebrated. While we all appreciatively ate the lunch prepared by the hospitality team, I mingled, enjoying the chance to catch up with cousins and other extended family and friends, many whom I have not seen in some years. At the same time, my children and their cousins went exploring in this mysterious building with all its hallways, basement rooms and secret nooks, precisely the same as I had done as a girl, and it made me feel the turning of time, the passing of a sort of ritual on to the next generation.
And it has recently become increasingly apparent to me that I am buffered from the eventual passing of my own parents by only one remaining grandparent...and as I reflected on the circle of life I realized that as I passed the rite of church-basement-exploration on to my children, I, in turn, inherited a new place in the passing of generations, one of which eventually will be mine.
So in this church, with all it's history, which could be tangibly felt in my opinion, something in my understanding of a role of a church shifted.
On this blog I have railed against all that I perceive to be wrong with the institution, and I still hold to those things, theologically speaking. However, I have failed to champion the churches all across America as the tie that binds that they are; for many people they are as much a part of the family as any living, human member. Maybe we, of my generation, are losing something in the evolution away from the "family church". Unfortunately, I fear too many churches are caught up in some directive to be the spiritual and moral authority in people's lives, rather than a place of stability and love I believe they are meant to be. In my grandparents case, it has been the latter, and the value of that to my extended family is priceless.
My roots runs deep in this place, close to 100 years have passed that this church has been a fixture in my family. The realization had an affect on me...it saddened me that in this day and age we are far too content to let family ties wither, and only something like a funeral will bring us all together again. Family is far more important than we realize when we are young. I know that now.
Monday afternoon, we went to the cemetery to bury our patriarch, and we were met with an honor guard. Seven soldiers who bear the duty of celebrating the life of American Veterans with guns, a trumpet, a flag, and most importantly, dignity and honor as fitting for their service.
As the shots were fired, it didn't escape me that we are even free at all to have religious beliefs in this nation only due to the service of our fathers. grandfathers, or great-grandfathers in WWII.
As the trumpeter played taps, I thought to every veteran who has died, especially those who do not have the benefit of a long and beautiful life, and I quietly thanked them.
And as they solemnly and precisely folded the flag that had draped his casket, handing it to my Grandmother with the words "On behalf of a grateful nation, we present to you this flag in honor of your husband's faithful service", I wept.
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