Coming and Going

Coming and Going

"Life is about coming and going". That is what my cousin Bill said at his mother's funeral yesterday.  I wrote that down (actually I typed it into notes on my iPhone).

My Aunt Bertie was my mother's sister. She was 86. She had raised five children and worked and volunteered at a variety of things. She and Uncle Ken had been married for 69 years. She had done a lot of coming and going. But she had spent the last twelve years in a nursing home. Alzheimer's had ended her coming and going. But that did not keep her husband Ken from coming and going to her. Twelve years of coming nearly every day to the nursing home to see his wife. Twelve years of going back home to an empty house. Nor did it keep her children from coming to and fro to visit. Coming to make sure she was taken care of and then leaving to take care of the other responsibilities in their lives. I am sure there were times that the coming and going was difficult and probably a few times they asked why. But some things you just do because it is the right thing to do. You come and you go because that is what life is about.

So yesterday we gathered for her funeral. To be honest I argued with myself a little about whether I should go or not. I had not seen her in a long time and I did not know my cousins very well. It would be a long trip and would my going really be that helpful? But her children had come to both of my parent's funerals and some of them had even made the trip to Virginia when my niece died. I had been honored by the care and concern demonstrated in their coming and going. So I decided that I wanted to go and I determined that I should. Though I had not yet heard my cousin Bill say it, I guess something whispered in my ear that life is about coming and going.

So I went. Brock who is always up for a trip came with me to keep me company. We shook some hands and hugged some necks and caught up on a few people. We shared a few memories and sang some of my Aunt Bertie's favorite hymns. We celebrated the life she had lived and we rejoiced in the heaven she now enjoyed. Then we left.

I am so glad that I came. There are some things we just need to stop and go do, because life is about coming and going.  And you know sometimes we get so busy with the comings and goings of life that we forget that life is about coming and going.

Success,, Failure, Praise, and Criticism

So much of life we have control over and so much of life we have no control over. Sometimes those most likely to succeed don’t or maybe they could not. Sometimes the least gifted hit upon a good idea or make the right connections and experience success beyond anyone’s dreams. Sometimes we make mistakes that place a damper on all we do for the rest of our lives. Yet some folks can overcome the greatest of mistakes. Sometimes there are accidents and illnesses that limit lives or end lives much too soon. And sometimes the sickest among us manage to live long past the expected three score and ten. Some people are equipped with the best of tools. But sometimes the people who have the best tools are unable to use them. Sometimes they refuse to use them. Sometimes people pick up broken tools and remnants and manage to build something great. Some people can hear hateful words and it rolls of them like water off a ducks back. Other people can hear the same words and they sting the soul and act as a curse forever. Some people can take charge of their lives and some people cannot. I do not understand all of that but such is life. And since that is the way it is we probably need to be a little more reserved in both our praise and in our criticism.

My grandfather Williams was a country preacher. I remember him but I was four years old when he died so obviously I did not him well. Most of what I know about him comes from the stories my mother told me. My mother often quoted an old saying that she had heard from him. “There is so much bad in the best of us and so much good in the worst of us that it hardly behooves any of us to talk about the rest of us”. Sounds like a wise word to me.

Forty Year Reunion

In the spring of 1975 I graduated from Scott County High School in Georgetown, KY. That was 40 years ago. They held a big reunion this past week end but I did not go. I have not been to any other of my reunions either so I am certain my absence was not a surprise to anyone. With the exception of one person I have not really kept any contacts with my high school friends. It has been much too long to make any real connectivity now. Besides I work every weekend and I live a lon...g way away. So the time and expense would be much too great for a rendezvous with people I barely know. Besides I am not that good at parties. I had lots of good excuses. So I ignored the invitations and pleas to come to the reunion and decided to let high school remain a distant experience from the past. In recent years however I have re-connected with a few of my classmates via facebook and somehow I got added to a group called Scott County High School Class 1975. The morning after the reunion people started posting pictures and I got curious. I did not recognize some of them. Of the ones I did recognize I was a bit relieved to discover that I had survived the 40 years as well as most of them had. There were 152 of us in that graduating class. I was saddened to discover that 16 of those have died. Surely in this age of modern medicine that is way too many. I mean I am only 58. That is not old is it?

That got me to thinking about the brevity of life. Indeed I have way more years behind me than I can expect to have in front of me. When this life is over there will be a glad reunion in heaven and I plan to attend that one. Indeed God has put eternity in the hearts of mankind. But since life is brief I want to live well and do something of significance while I am here. The British missionary C. T. Studd wrote a famous oft quoted two line poem: “Only one life, ‘twill soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last”.

Thanks, Mrs. Griffin

My first grade teacher was Mrs. Wilma Griffin. We were kin. She and my Dad were first cousins. I was somewhat proud of being related to my teacher. But I was also a bit afraid of her. Though I held our kinship in my back pocket not once did I ever play that card. I had a lot of respect for Mrs. Griffin. Even as an adult, if I were to see her in a family setting I could not call her by her first name. She was always Mrs. Griffin to me. I learned a lot of things in that first g...rade classroom in the basement of East Bernstadt School. I had perfect attendance and made decent grades. But the lessons were routine enough and came easy enough for me that the specifics of them do not stand out. But twice that year Mrs. Griffin stood before our class and made an announcement that left an indelible impression on me. One day she got our attention and told us that President Kennedy had been shot and killed. Later that year she told us that our school would be integrated the next year meaning that we would have black boys and black girls in our class the next fall. I do not remember raising my hand and asking any questions about either of these announcements. I think I had a pretty good understanding of what they meant. I knew they were both big events that altered my world.

Mrs. Griffin died this last week. She was 92. I had not seen or spoken to her for close to 30 years. But in the course of those years my mind has gone back to that first grade class room many times. Yes, teaching is important. Teachers do make a difference. Thanks, Mrs. Griffin.