Tragic Accident

It is tough to wrap the mind around such a tragedy.  Pastor Jeff Geske, his wife Laura, and their three children were driving west on I-70 when a driver (reason still unknown at this writing) veered out of the eastbound lanes, came across the grassy median and hit their van head on.  Laura, Joshua (8) and Joy (3) were killed instantly.  Jeff and Jacob (Joy’s fraternal twin) survived with comparatively minimal injuries.

The feelings are still too raw to try to think through and analyze the dynamics, looking for ways to make sense of such a thing.  There is no sense to be made of it.  Having gone through tragedies with very many others in forty years of ministry, there will be time to process the event and look back on it, finding profoundly meaningful elements, what might ultimately be recognized to be great good out of tragedy.  What happened is not good.   What is good is that in the Christian tradition of which these people are a part, of which I am a part, there are resources for survival, even survival with hope.  Those resources provide an understanding of a secure present and future for those who did not survive.

The struggle remains for Pastor Jeff and Jacob to make sense of life again without Laura, Joshua and Joy spending it with them.   Pastors do not feel pain any less intensely than anyone else.  They are no less devastated than anyone else would be.  They, along with all who are Christian, have very specific resources from a connection with Someone who provides strength when human strength fails to a community of support that is caring, ready to surround them with love.

Saturday afternoon when this happened a few miles west of here on Interstate 70, I had just started traveling east on Interstate 70, heading to Kansas City.   I had a great meal in mid-town Kansas City at a restaurant bistro called Nica’s 320 with my Son, Micah and Granddaughter Chloe.  Mom Becky was home sick with a cold.  It is hard to incorporate into my reality that first little grandchild of ours having become a beautiful young lady who can pretty much look me in the eye now.

After dinner, I went on to the Kauffman Center (oblivious to what had happened on that Interstate not long before).  There I saw a performance by Parson’s Dance.  I was overwhelmed by the skill and creativity, moved by deep emotion expressed, wowed by a single dancer performing in a strobe light creating the illusion that he was hanging absolutely still in mid-air in various positions for the six minute piece.  One piece found the grief corner in me as a death was portrayed in a very expressive and moving way.

After discovering (through Facebook) what had happened to the Geske family when I got home, all of a sudden my grief moments moved from center stage to a barely visible margin of reality.  On Friday at the Dermatologist’s office, thoughts of Mary Ann’s struggles surfaced since we had spent so much time there (negotiating very inaccessible rooms and hallways and entry way) dealing with the removal of skin Cancers.  On the way home from the Kauffman Center Saturday evening I was wishing I had someone or some group to spend time with talking about the dramatic display I had just seen just to unwind.  When I arrived home and saw what had happened, I immediately stopped feeling sorry for myself.   While there is no comparing one person’s grief to another’s, the loss in an instant of most of a whole family is almost too much to bear.

I was contacted yesterday evening by one of the local television stations to do an interview, sharing my perception of the impact of this event on the congregation at the morning worship service.   While most of the interview was not used, it was helpful to me to talk it through as the videographer asked questions.  As the Facebook conversation continues, it is clear that the support for Pastor Jeff and Jacob is growing at a blinding speed.  Yes, it is a horrible tragedy.  Nothing any of us can say or do will change that.  At the same time there is being released an avalanche of love and concern and a willingness to do whatever it will take to support Pastor Jeff and Jacob as they build a new life together.

All who pray are encouraged to keep Pastor Jeff Geske, his son Jacob, their extended family, his congregation and all those who love that family in your prayers.

Comment from Australia

I am posting this as a blog entry just to be sure everyone who reads the blog posts on Facebook gets a chance to read it. 

Lawrie says:

January 27, 2012 at 10:37 pm

Thanks Peter for another interesting blog… really good to have a chat and to the people who view this blog many thanks for your thoughts for Eleanor.  I really appreciate it as not only does she have an incredible loving and supporting family but one that truly is now worldwide and multi denominational.  Will keep you posted but at this stage chemo is working well. I hope to see her when I am in the UK in April.

As for the ironed paper.. well yes Peter , papers were duly ironed, presented to “she who must be obeyed” and tea was made with warmed cup and pen ready for the sudoku….  plus the tissues out of the box placed next to paper ready for use if required.

Another thing Peter could not get over is our lovely game of cricket. Whilst there are three forms of the game I prefer ” Test Cricket” .. this is between countries and we usually have 3 – 4 tests, each 5 days in length, each day having play from 10.30 in the morning till 5.30 in the afternoon with a short break for lunch and afternoon tea.  There is the shorter version that starts at 2pm and ends about 10 pm and the even shorter verson of about 4 hrs.  I prefer the real cricket, test cricket…. I do accept that I can no longer criticise the length of play of American football…. Next time you come down under Peter, make it in the summer and I will shout you a day at the cricket… This time it is cold drinks, sandwiches (I like vegemite and cheese) and the odd glass of cold lager (for hydration).

Also was interested in Peter’s comments on skin cancers.. a terrible Australian fact is that I think we lead the world in melanomas… Getting your skin cancers frozen to an australian male from the age of 45 years on is sadly an annual event. I only hope our next generation who have had years of sunscreen do not have this risk.

Signing off I do thank Peter and all his friends including the people who read this blof for thinking of my relation Eleanor in the UK, 18 months old and a lifetime ahead for this lovely little girl.

Thanks so much

Lawrie from Australia

Oh No, Not my Face!

It did not stop him.  Armed with a canister of Liquid Nitrogen he started squirting.  First it was under my eye, then on the side of my face.  I just went there to check on a very tiny barely visible wart-like spot on my face that had appeared in the last two or three months.  I thought it would be good to check on it while it was still very small, about the diameter of the graphite center of a #2 pencil.  That spot turned out to be something with a scary name, Seborrheic Keratoses.  Of course, it is something that usually comes with age.  It is of no consequence, not at all dangerous, just in a location that warranted a quick removal by freezing it.  By the way, that treatment really stings.

What was surprising was that he spotted another very small area that I couldn’t see, even with a mirror.  I could feel that it was a little rough area on the side of my face at about eye level.  I guess it is good that the visible spot got me to the Dermatologist.  I would never have discovered the one on the side of my face, at least not until it was much bigger and more obvious, had I not come in for the tiny spot that was visible on the front of my face.  That rough spot is called an Acetinic Keratoses.   It is a dry scaly patch that is considered the earliest stage in the development of a skin cancer.   At this stage it also was easily treated with another assault by the squirting canister of stinging liquid nitrogen.  When I was young, sunscreen hadn’t yet been invented, or if it had, its use was not very common.

Gratefully, at my age whatever visual evidence is left after the squirted spots have healed will not have much effect on this face.  It will still be 68, soon to be 69 years old, wrinkled and covered with mostly white hairs.  I had best take off my list the career in television or modeling skin products for men (if there are such things).

After coming from having been attacked with the liquid nitrogen, I stopped by the Flying Monkey for a treat.  What a treat it was!  Not only was there the usual wonderful pour-over cup of coffee but two impossibly good creations of Chef Jamie.  I had a cup of white chicken chili that had rich flavors, spices that captured my palate.  Along with it came bread made that morning with corn meal and chili’s that had been sent to him from a spot in Mexico that Jamie called the Napa Valley of chili peppers.  If that wasn’t enough, I was treated to part of a piece of fudge made with gourmet chocolate, espresso and English Walnuts.  I forgot about the stinging on my face.

After I got home Mate Lawrie from Australia used Skype to give me an update on Eleanor, for whom we have been praying.  Eleanor is an 18 month old with an extremely rare form of Leukemia.  The doctors have been giving her chemotherapy since no bone marrow match has yet been found.  There is a sort of good news/bad news update.  The good news is that the chemotherapy so far is working very well, well enough to take her off the list for a bone marrow transplant.  The bad news is that most of the few with that rare form of Leukemia have died even after transplants.  Continued prayers are needed.

On a lighter note, since it was again a Saturday morning in Canberra (Friday afternoon here), I asked Lawrie if he had ironed the morning paper yet.  He walked out of view and returned with the huge Sydney paper, neatly folded and ironed.  It just makes me laugh.  After our conversation, he was going to head outside to do some odds and ends of work in the vegetable garden.  It still seems strange to be talking to someone who is in the middle of summer, although it barely seems like winter here with the mild weather.

In the next post I plan to do an update on the writing project (still not actually begun).  I spent about an hour on the phone with a very successful Writer friend, getting some counsel.  Now as suggested, I need to do some reading before going to bed.

Thanks, I needed that! (Plus: In the right place at the right time.)

It has been so long that I had forgotten just how much impact writing a sermon can have.  When people go to church and hear a sermon preached, they can listen or not listen; they can tune in to the message or blow it off completely, try to understand what is being said or daydream.  The person who preaches does not have all those options.  The person who preaches has to stay awake and listen to what he/she is saying whether it is worth listening to or not.

Writing a sermon demands actually searching out the meaning of the Biblical passage or passages for that Sunday.  It has been a while since I needed to pull out the Greek New Testament.  The grammatical form of the word I wanted to look up demanded getting out the Sprachlicher Schlussel (need to know a little German to use it) to get the right spelling of the root word so that I could look it up in my nine huge volumes of the Theological Wordbook of the New Testament by Kittel.

Writing a sermon demands figuring out what a particular passage has to say that makes a difference in a person’s ordinary life.  A sermon is not a lecture but an attempt at providing a lucid enough communication so that a person can actually encounter the presence of a loving and forgiving God through that communication.  The preacher’s goal is to say enough to connect the Bible passage to people’s lives, then get out of the way so that the people listening can themselves engage the passage or passages.

To write a sermon with that in mind is a powerful experience.  If no one finds so much as a speck of value in it when I preach this sermon in ten days, I will have already gained enough to make it worth writing.

The Right Place at the Right time:

There was an unusual convergence this evening.  I went to the church to meet with a Confirmation student for whom I am Mentor.  I came early.  The first person who greeted me was Les.  After our initial greeting, he reminded me that just a short time ago, he was diagnosed with ALS.  He was in last Sunday’s prayers, so it is public information.  We had a long conversation in which the strength of his faith was clear as was his courage in facing a harsh reality.  Once again, the years of dealing with Mary Ann’s illness, and his awareness of that, opened a level of conversation that might otherwise not have come so readily.  I was grateful to be at that spot at that moment so that our conversation could happen.

I was tugged away from that conversation by a couple who told me about the fall yesterday and broken hip of someone who has come to be a good friend.  He is in his early 80’s and has some mobility issues, but up to now has been driving and able to walk unaided – slowly and carefully, but unaided.  At least for a while, that will no longer be the case.  He is one of two people whose funerals I have promised to do assuming I outlive them.  (Those two promises have the stamp of approval of the current Pastor.)

After a good (at least for me) time spent with the Confirmation Student in the Mentoring session, another Member shared with a couple of us information on the upcoming surgery of her Spouse.  There are unsettling questions until the surgery is done.  We could talk for a bit about the feelings associated with not yet knowing the answers to those questions.

Next came a conversation that was also very significant.  A fellow retired Pastor is caring for his wife who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.  The progression is creating significant challenges.  Many of those challenges are not unlike ones that Mary Ann and I dealt with.  Somehow it feels as if value is being added to Mary Ann’s and my life together when what we went through and how we dealt with it provide understanding and insights helpful to others.   We talked at length.

This has been a couple of days of tapping into 40 years of experience, using muscles that have been used very seldom since I retired three and a half years ago.  It remains to be seen whether or not those muscles still work.    Then comes the matter of whether those muscles will continue to be exercised in some way as my future unfolds in this new stage in life.  I continue to wonder how to respond to the Call to Live in the time I have left.

Back in the Pulpit

I almost titled this “Back in the Saddle Again” but there is neither saddle nor horse involved, just a Pulpit and Chancel.  Actually, this may be the first time in my entire forty year career that I have done what is called “Pulpit Supply,” preaching at a church other than one I am serving.  Until two or three days ago, I have not been ready to accept any requests to preach other than requests from the current Pastor of the congregation from which I retired to preach there (where I am still a Member).  That Pastor asked and I agreed to preach and lead two services a year ago, New Year’s Eve and all the Services one Sunday shortly after Christmas a year ago.  Those two times and one additional time (the Sunday the Current Pastor was Installed) are the only times I have preached and led worship in the three and a half years since I retired.

Since I have indicated to District Officials that I am not open to doing pulpit supply preaching at other congregations, I have rarely been asked and when I have been asked I have declined.  I was surprised to the verge of being shocked when I emailed with my reply the Pastor who made the request of me to preach at his church while he is gone.  I said, “Yes.”  The congregation is in a University town about a half hour from here.  I attended the early morning Service today to see how that Pastor leads worship.  Every place does it a bit differently.  It is by far easier to preach a sermon than it is to move around the Chancel and be at the place that congregation is accustomed to the Pastor standing at the time they are expecting the Pastor to be there – saying the words they are expecting to hear.  In addition there is an Organist, Choir, Acolytes, Ushers, Readers, Sound Tech, Communion Assistants, all doing a variety of tasks demanding coordination with whoever is leading worship.  There is a special message to be given to a group of very unpredictable children.

It would be easier if I had a more cavalier attitude about leading worship.  Since leading worship is the profession of a Pastor, it is reasonable to expect the Pastor to do a good job, a job that is well-planned and well-executed.  I take that very seriously.  It would be irresponsible and unprofessional not to at least attempt to come prepared.  I find the claim that it is better to let the Spirit lead in the moment than to come prepared a very transparent excuse for not being willing to do the work a Pastor is Called to do.  It is just silly to suggest that the Spirit can only lead if there is no preparation.  In the language of theology, that is mistaking testing God for trusting God.  Musicians and performers of every sort know that there is a whole lot of preparation needed to create the possibility of a moment in which the inspiration is palpable.   I also recognize that no amount of preparation guarantees that such a moment will come.  It is also clear that there needs to be a readiness to abandon the plan when the moment demands it.  I learned that in 18 years of working with Youth.

The question remains, why did I say yes to this request?  I don’t know for sure.  It just seemed like time to give it a try.  The Pastor there needed to be gone for a post-Christmas break with his wife.   As I have noticed many times before, I seem sometimes to be observing my own choices more than making them.  I enjoyed the service this morning.  The place seems to be a good fit for a first try at this.  People were friendly and there were a couple of folks who knew me because of crossing paths in the congregation here from which I retired.  It is just one Sunday and I may never do it again.  We’ll see what the future brings.  The task of trying to write a book is a daunting one that may not allow the time to write sermons and prepare to lead worships as well.

In a couple of weeks when I preach and lead worship at that congregation, between the two Services I will do a portion of the Journey to Healing presentation on the trip to New Zealand and Australia and its place in my grief journey.  The timing is good since I will do the same shorter presentation the Friday before at an Ecumenical ministry with the Aging that is called the Shepherd’s Center.

What an odd turn of events.

Iron the Newspaper????

It is true.  Friend (Mate) Lawrie from Canberra, Australia does it.  He routinely gets up in the morning, gets the coffee/tea ready, and brings in the paper so that it will be there ready to read.  While watching an episode of the British series “Upstairs, Downstairs” the servants ironed the morning newspaper and were appreciated for doing so (kept the ink from rubbing on to hands).  Lawrie’s wife Heather noted that she too would appreciate such a thing.  Can you imagine the points Lawrie is ringing up every morning as he serves up a freshly ironed paper?   I just laughed.  By the way, he is serious.  He is really doing it.  He showed me the paper he had ironed with its perfect crease.  When we ended the call, he was going out to get the big weekend paper from Sydney — a big ironing job!

Lawrie and I used Skype to visit for quite a while this Friday afternoon (early Saturday morning for him – still can’t get my mind around that).  We caught up on what is going on in each other’s lives (Lawrie and Heather have three young adult children).  We check in that way every once in a while.

Another newspaper related item is that Lawrie uses the old newspapers to eliminate weeds in his vegetable garden, keep the moisture in the ground and provide nourishment for lots of worms.  He just lays them on the ground as is, in a trench between the pumpkin plants, and at the drip line around fruit trees.  He never needs to water.  Straw goes on top of the paper for the sake of aesthetics.  He has done it for years and it works very well.  The summer climate in Canberra is much like the summer climate here in Kansas, very hot.

Yesterday morning our Spiritual Formation group added a member new.  This is a good time for such an addition since we are just beginning an activity that three of us did a number of years ago.  It is called a Spiritual Autobiography, reflecting on our lives from the beginning, looking at events in terms of their impact on the Spiritual dimension of our lives.  While the group maintains a level of confidentiality freeing us to speak openly and develop trust, on occasion I will share only in general terms insights that emerge.

Today began with memories of Mary Ann and this evening memories of her have returned.  This morning I attended the funeral of former Parishioner Bill.  He was just about a year and a half younger than I.  He died after a long battle with Cancer.  He was a very good man, much loved.  As the procession with the casket came by my pew, draped over the casket was the Funeral Pall given in memory of Mary Ann.   It caught me off guard and took my breath away just for a moment.  The message in the Funeral was well spoken and the soloist sang a piece so beautifully that it touched all of us.

Tonight, I listened to some wonderful music on our local NPR classical music station.  As I sat, listening, I watched family pictures move by in a random sequence on the computer that sits on a table in the living room.  The screen saver on that computer was Mary Ann’s entertainment especially in the last months when she could no longer easily track the television programs.

As I watched the pictures go by tonight on that screen saver, the pictures of Mary Ann brought to the surface a deep longing to have her with me again.  I miss her so very much.  There were some pictures of her sitting in the wheelchair on the rocky shore of a River in Missouri.  With much difficulty Son-in-Law Denis and I had gotten her down a rough pathway on to that rocky shore.  My feelings were conflicted.  There was sadness at seeing pictures of her bound to that wheel chair.  At the same time there were some good feelings that came with the realization that she got to be out there with the Lisa and Denis and the little girls.  Micah, Becky and Chloe arrived a little later so that we were able to spend time together in a cabin at that State Park.

I have started reading the blog posts I wrote during the last year and a half of being with Mary Ann full time.  As I expected, it is taking me back to that time in our life together.  It will take a long time to read through the 755 pages culminating in those I wrote at the time of her death.  I need to do it to prepare for trying to write some sort of book about these past years.   After I finish reading those 755 pages, I will go on to read the 365 pages of the blog I started writing after she died (and continue to write – this blog).

There is more going on, but that will come in future posts.  For any who enjoy watching birds, there have been two new appearances in my backyard.  A Sharp-shinned hawk hung around on the back fence for a while.  It is not an uncommon bird, just not common to my backyard.  The Raptor that normally comes by to try to catch the smaller birds is a Cooper’s hawk.  Then I saw a little bird flitting around in one of the trees in back.  It confused me a bit.  When I got the binoculars on it, it turned out to be a Yellow-rumped Warbler flashing his little yellow butt at me.  That is another common bird that has never before made it to my backyard, at least when I have been looking.  Those two sightings brought a little excitement into the last couple of days.  Again, sometimes it is the simple things that bring joy.

Prepared for Coronation

Yes, I will soon be crowned.  The preparations were demanding.  Actually, the preparations took place in the throne on which I will be sitting at the coronation.  I won’t be sending invitations since it will be a private ceremony.  Pictures will be taken, but they will not be published.  They will be taken to document the event.  The coronation itself will take place in about three weeks.  That will allow time for the crown to be meticulously formed so that it will fit perfectly.

At the preparation I was given a temporary crown so that I can function until the coronation with the real thing, a crown of gold – or will it be porcelain, I forgot to ask.  Two hours sitting in a chair with two people in my open mouth much of the time, along with multiple instruments, including a drill and a polisher at different times was necessary to be fully prepared for the coronation.  There were also a couple of frames filled with gunk that had to stay in my mouth at different times for a few minutes each.

What else will it be but a coronation?  In three weeks I will receive the crown.  It doesn’t sound right to say it will be installed.  I will receive a crown.  That is what happens at a coronation.  The truth is there was already a crown there.  The old crown had to be removed.  I am hoping that the three weeks between crowns will not leave me with diminished status (what status???).

I think I will stop this now, since I am running out of dumb things to say about getting a new crown put on a tooth.  I am glad to be done with the drilling and the gunk.  Gratefully, I have a wonderful dentist, who has a great staff.  They dealt with Mary Ann in a gentle and caring way for many years.

Ever Seen a 34 Pound Cat?

I have.  Today I drove out into the country to a little town about an hour from home to the Jepson Pottery Studio.  There he was.  At his heaviest he was 34 pounds.  Mary Ann and I used to go out there, sometimes bringing friends Mary and Jeanne with us to look at rows of shelves filled with stacks of beautifully glazed pottery of all sorts.  The cat was so big that when he rubbed against our legs he almost knocked us over.  He is now a shadow of his former self but still very large.  Apparently his new food is much healthier fare.

The day was beautiful, clear sky, bright sun, unseasonably warm (reached 55F).  The trip reminded me how much I love the open and uncluttered landscape of Kansas, providing a fully visible horizon on all sides.  The trip was beautiful and at the same time a poignant reminder that Mary Ann is no longer here with me as I sat in the van by myself.  I also realized how much I have changed since she died.  I have always dreamed of living out in the country, surrounded by fields and woods and wildlife.  Now, I don’t long for that sort of solitude and isolation.  I want people around, community and relationships.

Last Saturday evening I enjoyed the Symphony, spending time talking with friends from the church I served before retiring.  They happened to have seats nearby.  The music was very entertaining, most of it Spanish or influenced by Spanish music.  It ranged from a Rimsky-Korsakov piece to the Overture to West Side Story to Bolero by Ravel.  The instrumentalists on one of the pieces included a team of four who played one Marimba, often needing to move out of the way when another of the four moved into his or her space.  It was fascinating to watch.

Sometimes it is the little things that bring pleasure.  I am now the proud owner of a salad spinner.  What a cool gadget!  When the handle is pushed down, the basket inside spins rapidly and the water flies off the greens.  I decided to add a large salad to my choices for a meal.  The salad spinner is a new toy to help motivate me to make that healthful meal choice.  My first use resulted in a salad of freshly spun greens mixed with chopped green onions, dried blueberries and cranberries, pecan pieces, sliced carrots, chopped broccoli, chopped green peppers, some sliced olives, a couple tablespoons of Parmesan cheese and a few squirts of a lite Italian style dressing. Recently someone who reads these posts noted that I often write about food.  Maybe I should rewrite the “About” section of this blog to add the goal of providing healthful food preparation options for people living by themselves, people who are seriously challenged in the art of cooking.  By the way, the trip to the Jepson Pottery studio included the purchase of a large salad/pasta bowl that matches a couple of other pieces already in the kitchen (more motivation to eat salads).  Aesthetics makes a difference when it comes to food.  Try putting a raw hamburger in the microwave and see if the look of the end product impacts how your taste buds respond.  How food looks affects how it tastes.

Another acquisition is a small metal pot with a swan-necked spout formed to allow doing the pour over way of brewing coffee.  That along with the ceramic holder for the filter allows me to make a single cup of very good coffee without having to make a whole pot.   As I said, sometimes it is the little things that can bring pleasure to a mundane task.  I consulted with some of the barista’s at PT’s, especially Brandon, to get the precise grind setting so that the resulting cup of coffee isn’t muddy or too weak.  By the way, a 12 ounce cup of coffee is made with 13.5 ounces of water at slightly less than 200F (30 seconds after boiling) using 27 grams of coffee ground at a medium setting, not too fine, not too coarse.  Part of the hot water is poured into the grounds and they are allowed to bubble for a short time, letting off the bitter gases.  Then the rest of the hot water is poured slowly into the center of the grounds.  While I have not experienced the tea rituals in Japan, I suspect this rivals them.   I tried it and it worked!  The resulting cup of coffee tasted almost as good as the pour overs I have had done by one of the very well-trained Baristas at PT’s.

I realize that the above paragraph suggests I may have just gone over the edge on this coffee business.  Maybe so, but I’m having a good time on the other side.   I do realize that in the grand scheme of life, with all the needs of humanity, whether my coffee is made at just under 200F is of not of great significance.  It just adds some interest to a simple task.

755 plus 365 Makes 1120 Pages!

Those pages contain most of my life for the last 3.5 years, including the last year and a half of Mary Ann’s life here.  I don’t know how well I would have survived these last few years without spewing out tens of thousands of words and sending them out into cyberspace to be gathered up by those of you who have taken time to read the posts on the two blogs I have written.

I am grateful that our Son, Micah was able to help me gain access to the posts through a free website that puts them into book form with page numbers and a table of contents.  Today I took the files over to Office Max and practically did in their large copy machine as it spit out 560 two sided copies on three-hole punched paper.  It was not cheap, but it was worth it to have two-sided copies.  I now have two large three ring binders, each containing one blog.

Next week I will begin preparations for trying to write a book by reading the two blogs from the beginning to the present.  I wonder what that experience will be like.  I may be overwhelmed with feelings as I re-experience the last year and a half of Mary Ann’s life.  It is so hard to accept all that she had to go through enduring that terrible disease.  There are also descriptions of the depth of the love that bound us together.  I hope those passages will bring some comfort and peace.

In the process of downloading the first blog, Micah noticed that there is a small but steady stream of hits on that site.  There are occasional comments by people who have found a particular post helpful as they deal with caregiving issues or their Loved One deals with Parkinson’s.  He observed that it was good to see is still providing help to people.  I noticed that a few days ago the number of hits was five or six times the usual count.  It dawned on me that the letter included with Christmas cards I sent had probably arrived in a number of households around that time.  I included the addresses of the two blogs in that letter.

I expect to relive the grief and the travels as I read the second blog.  The travels have been on my mind this Christmas/New Year season.  There have been bits of interaction with a number of those I met on the trips.  Verena sent a Facebook greeting to a number of us in the US.  She was Micah and Becky’s exchange student a few years ago.  In September he and I stayed at the home she shares with her Mother Brigitta and Sister Silvi in Munich.  I received a beautiful electronic Christmas Greeting (an Iconograph) from the Szabo’s (Pastor Gabor, AnnaMaria, Gellert and Domi) with whom I stayed in Canberra.   I received a Christmas card with a nice note from Franzi and exchanged greetings with Martha on Facebook.  Martha and Franzi kept an eye on me when we backpacked the Milford Track in New Zealand in March.  They showed me around Berlin (where they grew up) in September (this is repeated info from last post).  There were email or Facebook exchanges with Matt from Melbourne (Milford Hike), Kevin and Bethany from the San Francisco area (Milford Hike), John and Christina from Sydney (Kepler Hike, plus time with them and their family in Sydney).  Mate Lawrie (Canberra – Rugby game, dinner with the family) and I exchanged greetings.  There was an email interaction with Ngaire who along with Mum and brother Vic spent time together at the farm and touring the North Island of New Zealand.  There was an exchange with Rosie who along with Alastair own the Backpack Homestay in Te Anau on the South Island of New Zealand that served as home for a number of days.  There was a Facebook interaction with Terri (Australia) with whom I spent three hours on a plane from New Zealand to Australia.  Catherine and Sean and I (Los Angeles area) interacted via email having spent time together in the Sydney airport waiting for a plane (along with a momentary connection days earlier in Northern Australia).  Robin and Margaret (with whom I stayed in Northampton England) sent a card and we subsequently emailed back and forth.  I sent emails to Katie (South Island of NZ in March and again in London in September), Mark and Agatha (London) whom I met on the Kepler Hike.  I had a Christmas phone call from Pr. Fred who now lives in Berlin.  That was a treat.

I realize I have mentioned these folks very often in earlier posts.  It is clear that I have been impacted greatly by the connections that have emerged with such a variety of people in so many different places.  Each and many others in some way have played a role in my grief journey, if only by listening to my story.  I doubt they realize how much difference they have made in my life.

I Think It’s Going to Happen

The deposit is in the mail.  I’m singing with a choir this summer touring Northern Germany.  I have the list of pieces we will be performing and the sheet music will be in the mail tomorrow.  The program is a challenging one.  At times we will be singing in German to Germans – no small task.

Shelbie was the Organist at the parish of which I was Pastor in the Oklahoma City area from 1987 to 1986.  She has always been impressive at playing the organ and leading a choir as well as planning a music program.  She is also gifted at improvisation at the console.  By now she has a Doctorate in Choral Conducting and is serving a parish in Plano, Texas (Greater Dallas area).  She emailed me about this possibility just days before the trip to Europe in September.  After returning from the trip, some pieces fell into place and it became too significant an opportunity to pass up.

Just the thought of singing in those ancient, elegant, reverberant worship spaces in Northern Germany resonates to the core of my being.  It takes me back over 45 years to the times our Seminary Choir sang in such places in London, Cambridge, and multiple cities in Holland and West Germany (the Berlin wall had been built just five years earlier).  This trip will take me back to Berlin where if his schedule will allow, new friend Pastor Fred (he and wife Cindy have lived in Berlin for 19 years) and I will talk about how to get to my Mother’s birthplace.  I just got a reply from Martha on Facebook that at this point she and Franzi may be able to meet for a meal while I am in Berlin.  Martha and Franzi are the two who kept an eye on me when hiking the Milford Track in New Zealand.  When I was in Berlin in September we had a meal together one evening and they spent the next day showing me around Berlin where they grew up (East Berlin before the wall came down).

I realize it will be difficult to learn the music without being able to attend the rehearsals in Dallas.  I plan to be in Dallas a few days before we leave in time for a Wednesday evening rehearsal.  There will be a rehearsal or two for a few folks in Oklahoma City at some point in the spring.  I hope to make those rehearsals.  A good friend here, the former Choir Director from the church from which I retired as Senior Pastor, indicated a willingness to help me learn the music.  She has had some health issues in the last few weeks that may remove that option.  Gratefully a fellow from Alabama who will be singing bass with the choir is also traveling by himself, so we will be able to eliminate the extra charge for single rooms by rooming together.  I will stay an extra week in Berlin with only a very small change in the cost to me.

Some of today was spent getting tickets for a three more concerts in Kansas City in the coming weeks.  I enjoy Celtic Music, so Riverdance and The Celtic Woman concerts have been added to the calendar.  The most exciting is the Organ Dedication Concert at the new Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts in Kansas City (the venue that compares favorably to the Sydney Opera House).  The organ is impressive visually and the room has perfect acoustics.  I can’t wait to hear it!  That is not until some time in March.   The Organist will be James David Christie who has been internationally acclaimed as one of the finest organists of his generation. Since 1978 he has served as Organist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

Today included some time at the Honda Dealer for routine service on the van.  While in the waiting area, I ended up joining a conversation in which one of the women revealed that her husband had Parkinson’s disease, Alzheimer’s and Lewy Body Dementias.  He is in full time residential care.  The three of us talked about the struggles that come with caregiving.  It was a chance to use some of what I learned in the past twenty-five years.

One of those quick moments of remembering came when I was drying my hair after this morning’s shower.  The memory was the intimacy Mary Ann and I shared when I washed and dried her hair.  They were some of our best moments.  While those memories are laced with the sadness of loss, they are filled with a warm and comforting image of her at peace, secure in our love for one another.

It is time to get some rest on this cold and snowy night.  Maybe winter will come after all.