Precious people, special days, moments something like ‘normal’

The last couple of weeks have been sprinkled with memories I’ll always cherish. Each one involved friendships formed decades ago with people still precious to us today. These were happy times, although each was accompanied by road bumps typical for us these days. I’m noting them here so I can look back and remember.

Memorial

May 6 was the memorial service for Dale McCann, who had died a few weeks before at 93 years of age. Dale was the minister at First Christian Church in Longmont, Colorado, where I served as education minister 1974-1976.

Among many wonderful people who enriched our lives those years, Glenn and Carolyn Kirby and Milt and Maribeth Pippenger stand out. Glenn was youth minister at the church; Milt was an elder, a leader in the education ministry, and a constant advisor to me. All four came long distances to attend the memorial service; Glenn spoke, and Milt gave the closing prayer. The Kirbys were in town a day early, which gave us the chance to host them for brunch that Friday. We were together at the service and the nice luncheon provided by the family afterwards.

Milt and Maribeth Pippenger, Glenn and Carolyn Kirby posed after the service, before lunch at the Christian Village of Mason.

These were golden moments. We had spent so much of our lives with each of these couples. Glenn and I worked together every day, and we spent many hours together in each other’s homes or with the McCanns. Pippengers were one of the first couples we met in Longmont; we stayed in their home when we came to interview for the job. And the last year we were there we met every week for Bible study and for prayer, especially about career changes we were considering.

Evelyn warmed to these times together. I had told Kirbys she would probably move between the meal table and the couch while they were here, and they accepted that as if it were normal. (“I was pleased at how she responded to us,” Carolyn told me later.)  

Saturday Evelyn seemed to enjoy greeting many people we knew at the funeral service as well as lunch afterwards. But after lingering there about an hour, she was ready to go home.

Both of us napped before going to our usual weekend get-together with friends on Saturday night, and Evelyn wasn’t as calm there. She was fidgety and unsettled after about 90 minutes, but I was able to stretch that visit to two hours.

Reunion

Last Thursday we attended an open-house reunion of alumni who had graduated from The Cincinnati Bible Seminary about 50 years ago. The planners scheduled two devotional times, and they asked me to speak at one of them. The event started at 1:30; I chose the 2:00 slot to speak, anticipating that we might not be able to stay till the second gathering at 4:00.

Evelyn wandered from her seat to another across the room soon after the crowd had quieted for opening remarks by the event’s host. I was able to move beside her, and when I went to the platform, a friend came and sat in my place.

Marlene Kehrer and Molly Fiensy, former classmates and then Evelyn’s colleagues, paused to pose amid many happy conversations that afternoon.

We enjoyed many happy conversations with folks we hadn’t seen in years, among them two former classmates who had taught with Evelyn in a Newport, Kentucky elementary school right after we graduated. Marlene Kehrer and Molly Fiensy carpooled with Evelyn; they planned projects and activities for students together and helped each other survive in the tough, urban environment they were facing with no experience. I was delighted Evelyn was able to see them again.

And I was totally surprised she stayed engaged all day with people in the crowd and snacks on the refreshment table and old yearbooks available for browsing. We stayed for the whole event and even went to supper with several out-of-towners afterwards! We were there from 1:30 till 6:00. I never would have predicted it.

Cookout

My daughter, Jennifer, and her husband, Matt, were in town last weekend for a Saturday-night wedding, which created the chance for a Mother’s Day cookout with friends Sunday. We grabbed the opportunity, because these friends, Bill and Verna, their son, Donovan, and his wife, Jocelyn, with daughters Ruby and Nora, are all moving to New Zealand June 13. The Webers’ daughter has lived there for many years, and the family decided they would move there to be together throughout the elder Webers’ retirement.

Exciting. Also bittersweet. We have spent many hours with the Webers: holidays, road trips, and uncounted shared meals. For Jen and Matt, Sunday was goodbye. I hate goodbyes, and of course, we all know another is coming soon.

Throughout the afternoon, Evelyn moved from group to group and often stretched out on the couch. She didn’t seem to settle or be really satisfied in any one place for long. Perhaps you can see her unease in her effort at a smile in the picture.

In some ways, all of these experiences are normal, typical of the way folks congregate and celebrate. They happened in the way anyone would expect.

But for me, these happy get-togethers all happened under a shadow of concern: How will Evelyn cope? How long will we be able to stay? What could happen to embarrass me even though gracious friends will understand?

I’m glad for all the opportunities to experience “normal” life these days. Even as I cope with the fact that nothing is truly normal for us anymore.