It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This...

“I have some bad news for you Sue.”

That's how the phone conversation started when my dear friend Janet called to tell me her husband Dave, also my dear friend, had died.

I was so shocked by her news I totally forgot I was speaking to his widow and focused only on me, the friend - questioning her, making sure this was not some sad joke, wanting to know details of what happened.  It took me a couple minutes to realize my error and come back to her and begin to offer comfort and help.  It still hurts deeply when I recall it.  And quite honestly, I have talked to God on many occasions regarding Dave’s passing, as it was very difficult to make sense of and accept.  But, God is God and I am not.

Dave Norris left this earth on April 9, 2011.  He and Janet were moving their daughter into a friend’s house in Indianapolis.  While there, he noticed the lawn needed to be mowed and decided to mow it.  That was so like Dave - he had a servants heart and never walked away from hard work.  He suffered a heart attack while mowing and could not be revived.  In an instant he was gone - only 60 years old.

We had just celebrated his 60th birthday in February.  We went for a walk in Pokagon State Park (in northeastern Indiana) and then to dinner.  Yes, it was February - but we were outside.  Its where he loved to be.

Dave's 60th

I have wanted to write a piece about Dave ever since his passing, but have held back.   Because to write about Dave would be to talk about my pain, my missing him, the impact he had on my life.  Realizing the pain Janet was going through as his widow it seemed best to put mine on the back burner as it cannot compare to what she has gone through.  But, its time.

Dave was a man of many talents and abilities.  He had several careers.  He had many accomplishments.  To list just a few:  Singing, writing, hiking, caring for the environment, loving husband, father and grandfather.  He was a city planner and Res Ranger.  He worked tirelessly in developing, maintaining and supporting the Mishawaka Res. The list could go on and on.

I met Dave through the church I was attending.  Gosh, its gotta be close to 20 years.  I have known Janet for over 25.

From what I remember, Dave started serving in the church pretty early on.  He eventually worked his way to becoming head usher and also head Elder.  This is worth noting, because if you know anything about the church I was attending, you know that ushering was not just handing out bulletins and passing a plate.  We were a group of hoopin’ and hollerin’ Pentecostals that were serious in our singing, dancing and praising the Lord.  Services were rarely quiet and sedate and ushers were kept busy handing out tissues, moving chairs to allow for more dancing and many other things.  Our Pastor was liable to do anything during a service and ushers had to be alert to what he needed.  Not going to preach today and just pray for people?  Ushers needed to keep order and direct people to the prayer line.  Because people were liable to fall out in the spirit while being prayed for, ushers had to be there to catch them.  Someone getting their praise on and their dancing getting a bit too crazy?  Ushers were dispatched to make sure no one got hurt.  It took special discerning to give people space to express their praise, but also know when someone was just trying to be crazy.  Uh oh, the oil vial is empty and it is needed to anoint someone - shame.  Those ushers got a look from the pastor that would have melted most of us.

There is so much more I could say about the role of an usher (my husband eventually took Dave’s place as head usher). Just trust me that they had to be special people.  They worked hard.  Sunday was NEVER a rest day if you served in our church.

Dave led by great examples of being on time, being respectful, working hard and meeting the needs of those he served.  So, from the get go, Dave was giving of himself.

Eventually, he and Janet started dating.  He was older than her and very different from other men she had dated.  First off, he was white and she was black.  He was pretty quiet and Janet was not.  Janet had two young kids and he never had any.  But it worked.  Long story on their courtship - they dated for years.  Dave struggled with depression and alcohol - but overcame them - I believe very much due to his great love for Janet.  He wanted to be the best man he could be and did not want to live without her.

He treated her with respect.  He opened doors, paid for meals, bought flowers, loved her children.  Encouraged her.   Believed in and supported her.  Treated her the way she should be treated.  It was amazing to watch their story develop.

One of the greatest memories I have is being privy to the day he asked her to marry him.  He decided to do it at church, during a service and he needed help pulling it off.  He asked me to be a part of it.  What an honor.  He knew I had fierce love for Janet and I would do anything I could to help make it go off without a hitch.  I can’t remember all I was in charge of, but I do remember having to make sure a bouquet of flowers got to him at the right time.

Janet was sitting in the front row.  He had arranged for a pause in the service and he walked up to her, got down on his knee, in front of the church and declared his deep love for her and asked for her hand.  Many of us knew the journey it took to get to this place and very few could contain their emotion.  Here was a man not afraid of showing the world just how much he loved Janet.  Oh, he set a high standard for the ladies in the church that day.  I for one never forgot it.

Together, they just took off.  Janet is a singer and her song got better.   Dave was a dreamer and started implementing those dreams.  Dave convinced an inner city girl to live out on a nature preserve and take trips to East Glacier, Montana.  They grew in their roles in the church and both became elders.

The Family

When I started dating Bill, we gathered our friends together to let them know that our relationship had gone from “just friends” to what we called “other than”.  Those gathered who had been my long time friends were a bit hard on Bill, wanting to make sure he was not just taking me for a ride or something like that ☺  I can see it now:  Marce, Pam and Jolene sitting at my dining room table, all of them leaning in as they spoke to Bill, reminding him of the hurts I had from the past, reminding him that if anyone dared to hurt me like that again there would be consequences.  There were strong words, there were fists pounding the table for emphasis. There were those who stuck up for Bill, but the ones that just were not sure yet of his intentions were pretty loud.  And there was Dave, who sat at the head of the table and for sure identified with Bill (since some of Janet’s friends - me included - grilled him a bit when they started dating) and he brought some balance to the table, insuring that no one got injured that day.  I recall that it was the first time I really saw him “elding”, taking on the role long before he got the title.

Bill took it all like the man of God he truly is, willing to endure some scrutiny to win the woman who would eventually become his bride.

In fact, when Bill asked me to marry him, he followed Dave’s example and did so at church, in front of many of our church friends and Pastor.  We were rehearsing for a play, where I had the role of the Virgin Mary, (funny huh) and I was called to the front of the church by the play’s director and there Bill got down on bended knee, recited a poem he wrote for the occasion and asked me to marry him.

We loved getting together with Dave and Janet and had them in our home often.  Dave was grand to cook for as he loved a good meal.  I don’t think I have ever cooked for someone who enjoyed it as much as Dave.  His signature expression “It doesn’t get any better than this” was most often heard by me in the presence of food.

A Huckleberry Delight in East Glacier

The other place I heard that expression was in the outdoors.  He loved nature and we were fortunate to go to Glacier Park with he and Janet.  He had been there over 18 times and was phenomenal in his knowledge of the place.  You name a trail and he will tell you how long it is, the elevation and the time it would take to get there and back.  And he always had a story about it.

He planned our trip out almost by the hour, especially the train ride.  He had taken the 36 hour train ride for all his Glacier visits and knew the scenery we would pass and at what time.  We had dinner at the second seating in the dining car so we could see the sunset.  We sat in the observation car at a certain time because we would be passing the sunflower fields.  Miles of bright yellow sunflowers, waving at us in the wind as we passed. Oh, it was a sight to see and well worth planning for.

As we were hiking through the trails, Bill and Janet would often go faster and get ahead.  Dave always walked beside me and never let me walk alone.  I would tell him he could go ahead, I would keep them in my sight (one of the hiking rules he taught us was to never lose sight of your group) because I thought for sure he was going slower for me.  But he said “No Sue, I always hike at a slower pace” and I believed him.  He took the time to enjoy the journey, smell the fresh air and notice the smallest details.  On a particularly difficult trail that had a lot of uphill climbing I stopped as we stood before yet another climb.  As I caught my breath I asked him if our destination, “Hidden Lake” was worth it.  Because at that point, I was ready to just find a rock to sit on and let them go ahead.  With great sincerity in his voice, he said it was.  I trusted him, so I pushed on.  We got to the higher ground and were greeted by mountain goats and the beautiful view into the valley where Hidden Lake was.  A small, beautiful lake surrounded by trees and mountains.  It took my breath away, not from exhaustion, but from the beauty.  I had never seen anything like it and treasure the memory.

Hidden Lake

East Glacier with Dave and Janet - not Hidden Lake, but another beautiful one

Walking the trails with Dave meant you got to see things that your inexperienced eyes would have surely missed.  Flowers, animals, streams that were hidden.  Dave knew they were there and it helped to keep you going.  Sitting on rocks near crystal clear waters of streams tucked away in a place it seemed only Dave knew about.  Dipping your hot, tired feet into the cool stream was like a piece of heaven.  The sound of the water lulling you, pulling you into its spell of wonder and contentment.  It was hard to get up sometimes and move on.

One day we were walking the trail past a small body of water and Dave stopped us and pointed - there was a moose almost completely covered in water, but he had seen just a part of him sticking out.  As we watched in silence, this huge moose lifted its head and body out of the water.  For a girl who’s picture of a moose was “Bullwinkle”, this large creature was unbelievable and beautiful.  Of course we just watched from our place on the trail, as clearly the moose could have run us over without batting an eye.  Priceless.  Dave was a wealth of knowledge and it was fueled by his love of this place.

East Glacier

East Glacier

East Glacier

We have trails that wrap around foothills near our house in Escondido.  Not quite the massiveness of Glacier National Park, but beautiful still and I would have loved to share them with Dave and whenever we walk them I think of him.  Bill reminded me that when we walk them, Dave is there with us.  I believe that.

Dave was pretty quiet in his manner until he laughed.  Wow.  His laugh was loud and boisterous - almost sinister - I loved it.  But when you saw his smile as he laughed you knew there was no darkness in it, just joy.

None of us are perfect and Dave was no exception.  He was human and struggled as we all do.   He tended to “brood” about things at times and it was hard to get through when he felt that way.

One of those situations was when some things were changing at our church.  It was a transition in pastors, in leadership and direction.  To explain it all would take away the focus from my intent, which is Dave, so I will be brief in my description.  I mention it because it happened in the last years of his life and I believe it to be very significant.

This part of my story is the one I struggle with the most.  Because it affected me so deeply, I know my view is biased.  Honestly, there are some things that still anger me about what happened. I have had several re-writes on this part, and hopefully I have curbed the anger enough to allow the heart of the matter to come through.

I had been a part of the church for 20 years, Dave not far behind.  It was a crazy time of deception, lies and coverup.  Certain leaders felt they were accountable to no one and many were unwilling to confront them.  Those that chose to were labeled as traitors.  Now, some of our core beliefs were transparency and shared leadership, so when the deception came to the surface, it was a huge blow to the church.  Scripture was cast aside as were the teachings that came from our pulpit over the years - all of a sudden, certain people did not have to follow the teachings of Christ.

Dave was head elder, so these things impacted him in many ways.  I know there were many hurts during this time for Dave and he took it hard.  Lots of people behaving badly and treating the people who loved them badly.  He took a sabbatical from church.  It was a dark time for us.  We went to Dave and Janet for direction.  They opened their heart and home to us - something we needed desperately.  I talk about it in more detail further on. After a time, he ended up leaving the church and a few months later Bill and I did as well. 

Dave moved on, but many of the hurts and misunderstandings remained hanging out there unresolved.  Stubbornness and pride I guess kept people from doing what should have been done. Thankfully, I know he came to much peace about it all in the last year or so of his life.  But to me, it remains grievous that he died so soon after all this.  My point in sharing this?  You never know when your time is up my friends.  If there are hurts, try hard to correct them.  If there is offense, make a move towards reconciling.  You may think you have all the time in the world to make amends, but the reality is - we don’t.

Around this time I found out that Dave was a gifted writer.  I hosted a couple open mics in the lodge at “The Res” in Mishawaka, IN, the nature preserve that he and Janet were caretakers of.  Woops, let me get it right - Rangers.  (Ranger Dave and Ranger Janet beautified this place and took care of it with great love)  Dave read some of his work at one of these open mics and amazed us once again with his depth and beautiful words.

Dave's open mic performance

The last time I saw Dave was on his 60th birthday in February 2011.  We walked through Pokagon State Park and then went to dinner.  Janet and I walked and talked about where do we go next, what is God saying to us.  Dave and Bill walked not far behind talking about what men talk about.

We went for dinner at a favorite place of theirs not far from the park.  We had a great time and Dave seemed very much at peace. He talked to us about some ideas he had for the future and was designing a backpack for hikers that he wanted to market.  We were surrounded by great food, laughter and dear friends.  It just does not get any better than that.

60th Birthday dinner

I shared this at his funeral: 

There Is No Better Man

When we speak of Dave Norris, I must say: Where is there a better man?  Can you tell me?

There is my wonderful husband who stands above the rest in my eyes – but I am biased.

No, outside of my husband, of all the men I have ever met that walk the earth, there are few that could hold a candle to my friend Dave.

Dave set the standard for men when he courted his bride Janet. When he proposed to her, he did so in front of his church, on bended knee for all to witness.  He wooed his bride the way Christ woos me, with persistence and passion. I knew from that moment I would settle for nothing less than that kind of fearless love and devotion – he set the bar high.

And the wooing never ceased as whenever Janet would walk into the room, a grin from ear to ear would be on Dave’s face.   And if she was singing - if you were wise, you never tried to speak to him as all his attention was turned towards her, admiring the woman who was his queen.   And don’t let him catch YOU talking – you ran the risk of seeing the OTHER side of Dave as he gave you a look that made you know, you don’t want to mess with him.

Janet and Dave unlocked the treasures in each other that seemed to be held captive while they were apart.  Their joining brought to light all that God put inside them.

Dave was an elder, father, servant and friend.  He has been all those things to me at one time or another and I am a better person for it.

I have so many stories of Dave; From their wedding, trekking through Glacier Park, years of going to church together, and the many meals we shared – and I can’t even get started talking about the love we shared of coffee…its hard to choose just one. 

I share one that changed my life and encompasses who Dave is.  A couple years ago my heart was broken in ways I never imagined possible.  At the time, Dave and Janet were elders at our church, as well as our friends.  We sought Janet and Dave out for direction and wisdom.  They welcomed us into their home, and as I sat before them, broken, hurt and confused, Dave said, “Let’s talk about things not as elder and congregant, but as friends, because that’s what we are”.  He had no idea how badly we needed to hear those words.  There was no “posturing” in Dave, no invisible rules to follow because he held a title.  He never chided us for questioning, but understood our pain and offered comfort, support and prayer.  Dave saw our need and tended to it.  His tender heart, which had also been broken by the circumstances, helped mine to stay tender and not get bitter.  Even in his pain, he pointed the way toward Christ.  For that, I am forever grateful.

There is no better man.

April 2011

These writings offer just a glimpse of this man’s story.  Dave Norris was a complex man with wonderful gifts and they live on in us.  He was real.  He was fun.  He was caring. He was a great man.  He was my friend and I loved him.  He is in my heart still and I miss him.  I thank God he was in my life and I carry a part of him always.

Till we meet again Dave; till we meet again...

Start Me Up...

Start : To begin or set out, as on a journey or activity.

We are always starting over, starting again, restarting, jump starting.  As long as it includes the word "start" I am good.  Of course, ending can be a good word too, as in the end of the road, end of an ordeal or “The End”.  We want to avoid "It ended badly".

Starting means there is movement; something happening, possibilities, things to look for ahead.  Of course, we can start and never move past that point.  Projects we have started, jobs we started, relationships started, education started - but somehow we never followed through.

So along with the word start, I like completion. Completion:  Conclusion, fulfillment - having every necessary part or element; entire.

We start something and we see it through.  Completion can be different than "finished" as we can “Be finished with that" and it may mean we started but never completed something.

Life is a series of starts, stalls, stops, finishes and hopefully completions.  Starting and completing one thing always leads to another as we should never be quite "done".  To live we must continue on to the next thing, expanding our mind, our views, our love and lives.  Life is about movement, expansion, cycles, seasons.

I have heard several sermons that included the words "Before God started the world, He finished it", meaning He had it all planned before He put it in motion - made escapes for all our mishaps, solutions for all our problems. No "new" thing we humans think up had not been already perceived by God and He made sure to have a solution for it.  

I ponder that periodically.  Now, I don't happen to think that it means we have no choice in our lives or that all is "preplanned", therefore making no difference in how we live as it will all end up the same.  No I think that what it means is that God has created a place for us to make choices, mistakes, walk paths, explore possibilities and have a great time doing it.  Life is a grand journey and there is no "one" road that will take us to our life's purpose.  I happen to believe if your road includes a heart felt seeking of God, then you are on the right one. God will take care of the rest.

The road you take may be too steep for me and the road I am on may not have enough scenery for you.  Thats one of the cool things about God, we are all created uniquely and the possibilities are endless and anything but boring.  I don't think the people who believe we all have to do it the same way have read much of the bible, as it is filled with people finding their path and purpose in God many different ways. Jesus was the best example of not doing things the accepted way and His path is the one I choose to follow.

One of the great lessons I have learned in life is a quote from a sermon heard many years ago: "All that I know is not all there is to know".  A lesson learned more recently is my own quote:  "All that you know is not all there is to know".  Its the combination of many you's and me's that make it complete. There we are, back to the concept of "completion".

Some things take a lifetime to complete, other things can be done in shorter time spans. Your completion of a task may not have the same end result as my completion of that same task.  The only sure thing is that the completion of one always leads us to another and our challenge is to recognize where we should focus our energies.  We just have to start somewhere.


Sue Barnard
August 2012

Untangled....

I untangled a wind chime that hangs in my yard.  Seems a silly thing to write about, but it spoke to me.


This wind chime is made up of delicate flat circles, formed from shells.  They hang from strings of fishing line.  There are several strings that hold the shells, making a beautiful tinkling sound as they blow in the breeze.  I bought it on a visit to San Diego, one of my favorite places ever, so when I hear it, it brings sweet memories of ocean breezes and sunshine.


I’ve had it in the house all winter.  It had gotten tangled together after a storm last year and I hung it on a hook in our family room until I had a chance to put it right.  Since warm weather is here, I decided to take it back outside, but did not take the time to untangle the strings.


It still made noise, but it was more of a clanging together, not the peaceful, soothing sound it usually makes.  The tangled strings did not allow the shells to move freely, so the sound was harsher and only moved if a strong breeze came by.


One morning as I sat outside and sipped my coffee, I took note of the tangled wind chime and the irritating noise it made, and I missed the comforting sound of the past.  So, I got up and went to where it hung on my Magnolia tree branch. The strings looked hopelessly tangled and clumped together, impossible to set free again. I determined I would figure out the mess of these strings.

I picked a “clump” of tangled shells and pulled a bit and it only seemed to make it worse, so I lightened my grip and watched how they fell and could see the path the twisting took.  There were 3 or 4 of the lines twisted together and as I carefully held them, and took the weight off the string, I began untwisting them and one string at a time they came lose and fell free.  As I freed one clump, I went to the next, once again, taking the weight off the string, finding the start of the tangle and working my way up to the top of the string.  Finally, all the strings were free and the shells hung unencumbered, each one able to move on its own to the breeze. Once again, the sound was one of beauty and harmony, not a clacking noise. The chimes were able to fulfill their intended purpose.


As I sat back and enjoyed the familiar sound of my treasure, I thought of me.  How I can get to be a tangled mess and there seems to be no way to make sense of me.  I am functioning, but not really how I want to – I am weighted down by life and worries and stuff.   I am as a “noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians because I may be speaking, but it is without love.   You know I’m here, but you’d rather I wasn’t for the awful noise I am making.   

Thankfully, those that love me take the time to gently pick me up and see where I am stuck.  Helping me to carry the weight of life, they patiently untangle and help me to be free once again allowing my true sound to come through.

A Day To Remember...

March 28, 2012.  Today would have been my oldest sister Carol’s 70th birthday.  Hard to believe she has been gone almost 5 years.

She died way too young at age 65 in April of 2007.  Carol had respiratory  problems as a result of smoking for many years. Sickness got to her that year and she could not recover.  She left behind a story and its important to remember.

Carol had been living next door to us with my mom for several years when she died.  This came about after her husband died and she had to get rid of her house.  The plan was for her to help care for my mom (who was also ill with respiratory problems - damn cigarettes).  It was beneficial for both of them.  Mom could still live somewhat independently because she would have help and Carol needed a place to live.  But soon it was clear that Carol needed almost as much care as my mom.

Thinking of Carol brings so many memories to my mind, many of them painful and sad. Carol was married twice and neither husband treated her well.  She and her wife-beating first husband were a big part of my childhood.  No child should see or be exposed to the things I was witness to.  Seeing Carol’s abuse and chaos shaped and formed much of my world back then and the imprint is still with me to this day.  Even as a kid I knew that what they called “marriage” was whacked.  One year I gave Carol a sympathy card to commemorate her wedding anniversary instead of celebratory card.  I got in a bit of trouble with my mom for that one.  I may have only been 11 years old but I was sure that their relationship was nothing to celebrate.

Her second marriage was no better in my mind.  Her second husband beat her as well and abused her children.  During those years I was busy raising my own family and did not see Carol as often.  But we only lived a couple blocks away from each other and there were many a night she and her girls walked over to my house after Carol suffered a beating.  She and her girls would stay for a few days, he’d call and apologize.  They would talk on the phone for hours.  God how I wanted her to walk away from this marriage as well, but she never did.  She ended up taking care of him till the day he died.

I had the privilege of being Carol’s caretaker till she died.  I was not the “Florence Nightingale” type, I was more the “Nurse Ratched” style.  Of course, my heart was not made of stone as Nurse Ratched’s was.  While on the outside it appeared easy for me to bark out reminders to do her exercises, eat right and not throw her money away, on the inside I was mush.  My heart broke for her over and over again because I knew the wounds of her life.  Caring for her put me smack dab in the middle of her complicated life and personality.  Carol was a very complex individual and dealing with her complexities could stretch you till you were ready to snap.  There was many a day I wanted to throw in the towel with her because she seemed determined to continue on a destructive path. 

But God.  He gave me patience, compassion and determination in dealing with Carol.  Did she know of the many, many tears I cried after some of our conversations?  Not just tears of frustration, but tears of sorrow.  Even though I could get pretty angry at Carol, I was still very aware that while I may have witnessed the abuse, she was the one it happened to.  She bore the mental and physical scars and God made sure He reminded me often.

I was also very aware that Carol had to live with the knowledge that some of the choices she made were selfish. Because of that, others were hurt.  She allowed her children to be in harms way and that is something that I don’t think she ever truly got over. 

We talked many times about these things and as I said, my role was to stay strong and urge her to look ahead.  Be the best she can be now. All my pushing and prodding was to keep her moving and alive.  If I had anything to say about it, her latter years were going to be more stable and safer than her earlier life.

Carol’s life impacted me forever.  She was my big sister and I loved her.   On this day that would have been her 70th birthday I remember her with that love and share the eulogy I wrote for her funeral.

Carolyn Hartz Eulogy  April 2007

A funeral is a time to speak well of the departed, to remember the good times, the stories, the memories. But for me, funerals are more than just remembering someone’s past.  Since it puts in the forefront a life that has ended, it is also a time to look at the life I am living and asking the question “am I living it well?”

But first, we focus on Carolyn.  Even though I grew up calling her Carol, she loved being called Carolyn.  I have to say that I am sure Carol is in heaven now.  She knew God and loved Him I believe.  So, we rejoice that her suffering has ended as her eternity has begun.  She has left behind all that was dark in this world to embrace the love and acceptance of our heavenly Father.

Carol’s life was not an easy one, as it rarely is for any of us.  But hers was especially difficult and wrought with much heartache and struggle.  Some of the struggles were the result of the choices she made, but much of it was at the hands of others who mistreated her.  Finances were never plentiful and at times her relationships with family and children were full of friction.  But, Carol was a survivor.  And if put in the same circumstances she went through, many of us here would have given up long ago or been committed to an asylum.  But Carol kept going, getting up each day to face a world that could be very cruel.  And she did it with a smile.

Carol was my oldest sister, so she has always been a part of my life.  There were different seasons of relationship between us.  Sometimes I was just the “kid sister”, other times a friend and peer.  But mostly my purpose in her life was prodder, defender and sometimes rescuer. Early on in my life with Carol, because of the knowledge I had of her life and what went on in it, God put fierceness for her in me.  My Pastor describes it as “booger love” – you just can’t shake it off even if you wanted to.   And believe me, especially in her latter years, I am sure there were times Carol wanted to “shake” me off of her.

Because of her close proximity to my house as a kid, we started sharing things early.  She lived just two doors down from me, and she was the “cool” big sister who let us get away with way too much.  My life with Carol was one of sharing many firsts: first cup of coffee, first cigarette, first real serious thoughts about God.  Carol was raised in the Catholic Church and as a child I attended church with her.  I was mesmerized with many of the rituals she practiced, dipping of the finger in the holy water, kneeling at the pew, the mysterious act of communion.  Much of my early introduction to church and God was through Carol.

Some of you may not know it, but Carol was a bowler in her younger years.  As a child, I remember standing at the bathroom door, looking up at her with wonder as she would transform herself from “at home” Carol to “going out” Carol, while getting ready on her bowling night.  She would stand in front of the bathroom mirror, wearing her bowling shirt, applying makeup and teasing her hair into a “poofy” hill.  There were several steps in this transformation and each one done in a particular order each time.  I knew she was done when she would pick up the big, metal can of hairspray.  With a long, lit cigarette hanging from her freshly painted lips, eyes squinting from the rising smoke, she would apply large quantities of hairspray to keep it all in place.  I was fascinated, and stood close to watch, having no clue of the dangers of mixing aerosols and fire together.

It was one of many “rituals” Carol practiced.  Things having to be done in a particular way at a particular time and to deviate from that could bring much protest on her part.  It was one of the curiosities of Carol; regimented order in a life that at many times was composed of chaos.

Carol liked to have things around her, lots of things, close at hand.  Crochet projects, crafts, suduko books; STUFF.  For the last few years, Carol has lived with my mom in a house next door to mine, so I was in their home often.  Surely one of the things we had issue with between us was her insistence on having her whole existence within arms length – and Carol had a LOT in her existence.   But what I perceived as clutter were things that were important to her, and for some reason she always had to have them close; perhaps to keep them safe, to know they were there and would not be cast aside.  So, I imagine her now, in her heaven with unlimited access to yarn, unopened mail, Avon and puzzle books.

One thing I admired about Carol was that she never tried to hide the fact that she needed people.  She was very social and not afraid to approach someone she didn’t know to greet them and perhaps take the opportunity to “grill” them a bit.  She loved to know about you – it truly interested her and she had a memory like a steel trap and could recall information most people would have overlooked.  And if you discussed something with her and there were facts she did not know, you could be pretty sure in your next conversation Carol would be prepared and have the missing information at hand.

I must confess to you Carol’s assertiveness in her social dealings was not something I always appreciated.  About 8 years ago (1999), I had just begun to date my husband Bill and was bringing him to a family event for the first time.  Being scrutinized by someone’s family can be nerve wracking, and Carol’s aggressiveness could be a little daunting before you got to know her. I knew this guy was quite a catch and did not want to scare him away before we were solid!  So, certain family members were put on “Carol watch”, and were to be ready to intervene and divert Carol’s attention if Bill started to look scared by her “assertiveness”.  As it turns out, I had nothing to fear.  Bill held his own with Carol and they sparred many times on many different subjects.  He loved her and spent weeks renovating the home she shared with my mom.  He never balked at caring for her and welcomed her into our lives.

Carol, while small in frame, was strong in spirit and will.  People could be fooled by her petite looks, thinking that she was timid.  But anyone who had cause to deal with Carol could tell you that she had very strong opinions on a multitude of issues and had no problem telling you that.

As I said before, my role in Carol’s life was not that of a typical sister.  Nice was not my portion with Carol.  Kindness, caring, loyalty, protection, encouragement and of course deep love; but not always nice.  Her loving heart and her need to be loved resulted in not always using the best judgment in making choices for her life.   For some reason, God saw fit to allow me to see into Carol’s heart, to understand her, even if I did not always agree with her.  He gave me the strength to not care if I was not liked by other people (including Carol at times) in going to great lengths to keep her active and helping her make wise decisions.   Tough love it was at times, and I have no doubt she knew that even though it was tough, it was love nonetheless.

But God balanced my wrath with others who came along side with amazing grace and I want to say thank you to some people that I know made an impact on Carol’s life.  I am sure there are many more that I don’t know about, but these are the ones on my heart.

My sister Patty was actually a combination of both fierceness and grace for Carol.  Because this is a funeral, and a eulogy, some stories of Carol’s life are best told over a cup of coffee, or perhaps a stiff drink, so I won’t give all the details of the story, but just enough for you to get the point.  When we were kids, there was an incident at Carol’s house.  A madman broke into Carol’s home and, while I had run and hid in a closet with her young daughters Cathy and Mary, my sister Patty, a young teenager, stood holding only a broom as a weapon between Carol and this intruder.  I will never forget the image as I peered out of the closet I was cowering in, seeing Patty’s 5 foot frame facing this 6 ft plus man.  I could see the fierce look in her eyes and knew if he had taken a step closer, Patty would have defended Carol to the death.  But 40 years later, this same woman came as an angel helping Carol face yet another giant in her life, when Carol had to move out of the house she had lived in for over 20 years.  As it has been mentioned, Carol had lots of stuff.   She was moving into an apartment and had to downsize drastically.  I was losing patience in the sorting process because Carol was reluctant to get rid of most things for one reason or another, and I was ready to just throw everything out!  But then suddenly, Patty the angel appeared and as I, along with my daughter Shay and sister Jackie, worked at throwing things out in one room, Patty graciously listened to Carol’s stories about each possession and who gave it to her, the story behind it and what it meant to her, as they decided whether to keep it or give it away.  Because it was important to Carol, it was important to you Patty, and that is true love.

Then there is my Mom:  A mother always, caring for her child, always wanting the best for her.  At all times generous with your children, you gave above and beyond with Carol.  At an age when most parents are only thinking of their own retirement and Florida condos, you made sure the last years of Carol’s life were not a struggle and put her needs above your own.  That is the unselfish love of motherhood – that is the love of God.

Catherine:  Taking care of her in the most intimate way possible, bathing her, looking out for her, alerting me with health concerns.  You guys fought over housekeeping, but you know she loved it.  Your spunkiness gave her a reason to get up every morning.

Her Church.  Carol loved this church and it’s people.  It was a lifeline to her and gave her strength and community.

Many of my memories of Carol have the picture of a cigarette hanging from her mouth.  In the end, this would come back to haunt her and slowly, but surely steal something we take for granted everyday - the ability to breathe.  I have been asked not to preach on the evils of smoking; so I will not say all that I would like to on this subject; but I will say this:  I hear many excuses of why people can’t quit - stress in their life, I have been smoking so long, on and on, and having been a smoker at one time myself, sympathize.  But I must point out that Carol, after over 30 years of smoking and at one of the most stressful times in her life, while facing cancer, chose to quit.  Even though others around her chose to keep smoking, which as any smoker will tell you is one of the hardest roadblocks in quitting, she still managed to rid herself of cigarettes.

Carol’s life had purpose and meaning.  While not always the dream life I am sure she had hoped for, she still kept hoping, kept going in the best way she could.  She left behind many memories and shared much of herself with so many.  Without her in my life, I would not be who I am – and I LIKE who I am, and am a better person for having known her.  I have witnessed abounding grace to a depth I did not know was possible, I have learned that loving someone is not always easy and does not always include the word “nice”.  I have seen the power of God at work over and over in places that seemed hopeless; I have learned patience and compassion far beyond what was possible in my own flesh.

So, in closing, I go back to the beginning of my eulogy and ask, “am I living my life well?”  Have I fulfilled the purpose God put me on this earth to fulfill?  Am I at peace with myself and those around me?  What lives have I touched? Tomorrow is not promised to us and if this was my last day on earth, would I be able to say, “I’m ready to go”.  If I left this earth realm today, would I be pleased with what I have left behind?  Is God pleased with what I left behind?

As I ask these things, I not only think of myself, but I think of her children.  My mantra to your mom in regards to you was always this:  The best thing you can do for your kids is to get healthy and stay healthy.  Not just in body, but in mind and soul.  Be an example to them of a life lived well.  Put behind the past and live today; today be the best mom you can be.  The best thing you can do for your children is to be an example.  The example your mom left you is that she fought; she did not always triumph in the ways we would think a victory should look, but she did fight.  So, cry your tears of grief, but let them cleanse and refresh you - tears without purpose are just waterworks.  The best way to honor your mom is to live well, to live a life that is full of loving and giving.  That will bring a smile to her face.

Spring Has Sprung...

Spring has sprung in South Bend, Indiana. Or is it summer?

Its only March, yet the thermometer climbs to the 80s and at night I am running the fan because I am so hot!  Where am I?

The trees are budded for leaves, the magnolias are in bloom, crocus' are up, robins are nesting and the grass is green.  It seems like it was winter one day and spring the next, not the normal segue.

Now mind you, I am not complaining about it.  I live for spring and summer, as the winters in the Midwest absolutely exhaust me.  I have written before about how it seems the older I get the harder it is to get through the cold and snow.  But this winter was so mild it was hardly a blip on my screen.  I may have worn boots a few times and sure I had my winter gloves out, but I think my fall jacket got me through, never really needing to break out the heavy stuff.  We had a couple of storms, but one of them was while we were spending the holidays in San Diego, so we missed it completely.  Thank you Jesus.

Because of the "early" spring, we are a bit unprepared.  Our outdoor furniture remains in the garage, as does the grill.  In the back of our minds is the thought there has just got to be one more snow storm on the way, so we have waited.  I am thinking we should just take the plunge and haul it all out.  It will be able to take a beating or two in case our fears pan out.

Which brings me to my thought for today - being ready.  Ready for what you might say...well, ready for anything.  Not just ready, but willing and able.

As this warm weather hit, one of our first responses was to sit outside, especially if we were out to eat.  We go to our favorite local place, Fiddlers Hearth, and sit on their patio. We went to our regular wine tasting and sat outside with good friends Don and Kathy last week.  We watched the sunset, enjoy the bird songs.  Its lovely.  But we are amazed that no one else is joining us.  Really?  Its March and its almost 80 degrees!  You are content to stay inside?

I am a freak about eating outside anyway.  It "got" me years and years ago in Newport, RI.  I was there with my sister-in-law Billie for my brother Greg's "Officer Training School" graduation.  We had traveled from Indiana with their two young children one spring.  The weather was mild and many of the restaurants had outside seating.  The coolest ones were places where the whole front of the restaurant opened up, bringing the outdoors in.  I was hooked.  I never wanted to eat indoors again, especially if it was by a body of water!

I even have plans for one day having an indoor/outdoor kitchen.  I have seen beautiful pictures of kitchens that open to the outdoors not just for eating, but for cooking as well.  Not just grills, but stoves and ovens too.  Now, thats what I am dreaming of.

So, my love for eating outdoors is clear.  And I don't expect everybody to share that love.  However, in a part of the country where good weather is limited, I do expect people to embrace the gift we are experiencing right now. 

I have really been thinking about this, as it has happened several times since this warm weather hit. (I am working full time right now and not cooking much, so we go out often of late) Its just one of those silly everyday experiences that God uses to get my attention and teach me something.

Whats He saying now?  Be ready.  Things can change when you least expect it and you need to be ready.  Ready for what?  Well, ready to take advantage of whatever opportunity that change is presenting.  The change before you may not last very long, so enjoy it while its here.

See, I think thats one reason people aren't taking advantage of this warm weather.  They think its not going to last (like us not getting our patio set up).  Why get your hopes up for something that is fleeting?  Well, because you may experience something in that short time that will change your life, or someone else's.  Then a fleeting moment becomes an eternity moment.  But you have to be ready and willing.

Not taking advantage of this weather means you are missing some beautiful sunsets, bird dances and early blooms.  Of course, its not just the weather that is changing, but other things in our lives as well.  Are we embracing the changes or do we still have our winter gear on, shielding us from any fluctuation in our circumstances?  Are we staunchly looking at the calendar and saying "its not that time" or are we willing to bend and be open to something out of the ordinary?

My prayer is that God will help me to see those openings- the "worm holes" that will take me to another dimension to experience something unusual.  I am certainly out of my "normal" comfort zone lately with this working thing.  There are some things I love about it and some things I hate. But its gotten me to start paying better attention to a lot of things.  Its taught me that even though I have been "out of the mix" for quite a while, I still "got it" and I can run with the young dogs.  I am not too old to learn, not too impatient to teach and I still have lots of ideas yet to bring to reality.

The Glory...

I came across this recently while I was looking through my open mic folder. I have never shared it publicly, but must have thought about it since it was in there.

As I was reading through it, I was reminded of the peace that surrounded me as I wrote it and it came upon me again as I spoke the words. So many of my people need that peace right now, I thought I would share it.

This was written in January of this year while I was visiting my mother-in-law and Bill was home preparing to leave for Africa.

Glory

The glory of God surrounds me as I sit outside a coffee shop in Southern California. Even though there is a parking lot in front of me and a freeway below me, I sense the beauty and fullness of my creator.

It is in the sun that rises before me and almost blinds me from its brightness, but I will not move – because it is part of the glory. It represents the light of God that continually shines in our darkness. As it rises it reminds me that it is always there - sometimes we have to wait for it…be patient…know what time it is…have faith. His light is always there, we just have to make sure we walk in its path.

His glory is in the fact that it is January, yet here I sit outside. The “normal” calendar I am used to back home in Indiana has little effect here. It is winter, but yet it is not. It is chilly but there is no frost or snow in my view and to me that is amazing and glorious.

God’s glory is in the emails I have read this morning from my dear friend Daniel. His encouraging words that urge us to focus on the power of God inspire me and lift my spirit even higher. Is this possible?

God’s glory is in the voice of my beloved as I spoke to him this morning on the phone…so many miles away, but yet so near as there is no separation between our hearts that are linked in spirit, soul and body. That even though his location in body is far from mine at this moment, I sense his love for me and know it is true and strong. It is especially strong as I sit here because he is the one that introduced me to this wonderful place while we were courting. Because we share that bond, whenever I am here I am reminded of the early days of our love and it feeds the great love that we share today. It is a love that has grown and not stagnated, always expanding in its depth and purpose.

God’s glory is in the wonder in my heart as I contemplate how good God is to me - that He has always been good to me. That I am loved, I am favored, I am treated so well by a Father that is full of love for me. He cares about what I care about, He makes my path straight and eases my burdens with His kindness and love. This morning as I sit here I sense that He is saying to me “I know your life and the burdens you have carried. My eyes have never been blind to your pain and I was always there and had a plan. I knew my love would be enough for you and healing would be your portion. It pleases me that you are at peace and your life is full of good things. Accept my blessings and share them with others. Be the light that is my glory.” January 18, 2011

As I think back on that day, as I was sitting there and basking in what God was speaking to me, it reminded me that many times the measure of what we get from God has to do with how much we are willing to accept and receive. To believe that His love and blessing are not just for others, but are for US. To know that even in the midst of our turmoil, He has a plan, that there is purpose in our struggles. That just as it pleases us to see our children full of joy and blessed, it pleases HIM to see us that way as well. God desires for us to embrace His love for our own life - thats really the only way we can effectively share it with others. I know, these seem to be simple things and I am probably preaching to the choir, but I am troubled sometimes in speaking with friends how this concept seems so far from them. They will believe for others, but not for themselves.

So these are my thoughts on this cold November day in Indiana. They may have been formed while I sat in the sun of California, but they still live in the winter of the midwest.

Autumn Dance...

The season has changed and we are into Fall and not far behind will be Winter, cold and snow. It is the way of the midwest and if you live here you ready yourself to let go of the warmth that summer brings...or you move.

Letting go...it seems that is a word rattling around in my head and heart a lot the past few years.  Letting go of anger and disappointment, letting go of some people - not always by choice.  Just letting go.

Hopefully letting go of one thing opens my arms to embrace something else.  That is what I am hoping for in the coming season.

Sitting in the sanctuary of my patio recently, I wrote this piece.  I shared it at a couple recent open mics and it was well received.  Hope you enjoy.

Autumn Dance

The leaves are falling

Colors changing, the green leaving, replaced with orange and gold

I watch them as they drop from the trees

Just a few at first, then they fall in great waves

But before coming to rest on the ground

They dance upon the air

Some twirl and swoop

Others flutter and pause

They stop in mid air, just floating, floating

Enjoying the journey, seeming to say “whee, I am flying!”

There are some brave ones that hang on and wait for a strong wind

And as it catches them they fly high into the air before they give up the ghost and rest on the ground

Falling further than they would have

Had they just released when there was less turbulence

Or maybe, they are not brave at all, but hold on past their time, afraid of the fall

And the wind leaves them no choice and says “its your turn"

However they fall, fall they will and I love the dance as they go

It reminds me of a snow shower as they flutter by, so many at once

But instead of a cold wet kiss they bring a sweet scent as they brush past you

And all the falls of years gone by are stirred inside me and I close my eyes to embrace it

The sight of the turning leaves brings comfort and sadness

Comfort in the beauty and sadness in knowing the season of warmth is coming to an end

Soon the falling leaves give way to falling snow

And all that is left of autumn are bare branches

Branches that reach to the sky in surrender

Dark, bare, exposed – no cover to warm them

They are at the mercy of the season and I identify

Some seasons are dry and cold and you pray for the change

For now, I will just enjoy the dance

Sue Barnard

9-21-2011

A Table Of Friends...

This is a long one folks, trying to condense 30 years into a few paragraphs.  It is precious to me, so did not want to cut it short.  It is a story I hope you enjoy and can relate to.

Recently, we had a dinner celebration.  Our very dear friends Dan and Connie were in town and we had a dinner to give them a chance to see some old friends on their short visit to South Bend. 

We meet at Don and Kathy’s home.  They are marvleous hosts and their home is full of comfort and hospitality.  There are 14 of us in attendance - a great number to gather around their large dining table.

Set before us is Goat Cheese and Pesto Torta, Bruschetta and Crostini, Peppadews, German Bologna, Lasagna, and a beautiful Lettuce Salad with lots of goodies hidden in it.  For dessert we have NY style Cheesecake and Marce’s White Chocolate Fantasy Cake.  We mill around, casually nibbling the appetizers, preparing dinner plates, pouring wine and eventually we gather at the table.

It’s a complicated story how we all met and got hooked up, but I will try to make sense of it.  I would guess that all of us have different versions of the tale, so right up front I will say these are my recollections and I can't guarantee the total accuracy of my 52 year old brain.

I don’t remember exact dates after all these years, but know that several from this group have been in my life for over 30 years.  Some I met through a house church I was attending.  We were a small group, but had strong beliefs (the leader of the group was a devout follower of Bill Gothard) and the group was like a family.  We not only tended to peoples spiritual need, but financial needs as well.  It always amazed me at how generous this small group was and what we were able to accomplish.

While we were a tight knit group, we could also be a bit volatile, splitting several times over the years, losing a few and picking up others with each divide.  I was pretty young when a lot of that was happening, with two young children.  I have to admit I did not know what a lot of the “hubbub” was about during these bouts of turmoil, although there were times when I’d pipe up and give my opinion on some things.

The group was very male oriented in the leadership area.  Women had their place and it was pretty much to be at home taking care of their husband, house and children (Thanks Bill Gothard).  Not many worked outside the home.  If you were not absolutely thrilled to be cleaning your house and tending to your husband’s every need, there was a bit of a stigma that got attached to you (and I imagine a lot of prayers were prayed on your behalf).  This attitude really went against the grain of me, as I had some bad vibes from growing up around a dominant, abusive man and I was determined not to follow in some of my relatives footsteps.  I remember like it was yesterday at about 11 years old consciously making the decision after witnessing one of the many incidents of abuse my brother-in-law inflicted on my sister Carol, that no man would ever treat me that way.  And that was only a part of my story where men were concerned — so, I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder in this area.  I am sure the word “rebellious” came up behind a few closed doors when my name was mentioned.  I hold no ill towards those who may have felt that way at the time.  I don’t know if anyone knew my “whole” story and even if they did, still probably would not have known what to do with me!

I loved my family, being married and being a mother, but there were certain aspects of homemaking I did not excel in. I was only about 20 or 21 at the time.  (I had gotten married at 14 and accepted Christ at 15)  Being a mother came pretty naturally to me, but keeping house was a different story.  Eventually, I mastered cooking, baking and finances, but never quite got the hang of keeping a neat house. Often I felt inferior to the other women who seemed to have embraced the love of it, while I only dreaded it.  I thought that perhaps I had missed getting the “cleaning gene” that came with salvation.  Even though several of their homes were often in disarray, as mine usually was, many of the women appeared to get great joy in washing, cleaning and cooking all day.  This was not my story and I felt very guilty about it for years.

When we had fellowship times, I longed to be included in the “male” conversations that were taking place in the living room of the home we met in.  The women usually congregated in the kitchen and talked of canning vegetables, raising children and recipes.  While these things did interest me, the men were usually talking about Jesus and the things of God, and that interested me much more than water bath canning instructions.

The house church had been together a while when Dan and Connie came from California to attend the church.  Dan and the current "lay" pastor had long been friends.   Dan, an ordained minister, eventually took over pastoring.  With Dan and Connie as pastors, a whole new world was opened up to me.  Connie did not fit the mold of the usual pastors wife (she did not play piano).  She was a gifted teacher, as was Dan, and they would share in the pastoring.  While she was a very supportive wife, he was also a supportive husband and acknowledged and encouraged her gifts, which were not just in cooking and keeping house.   Their marriage was the first I took note of where they truly respected each other.  It was a turning point for me.  Dan brought an equality to the women of the church that had been missing and it gave me hope for something more.

As I mentioned before, it is a complicated story with heartaches as well as joys.  Anyone who has been involved in organized church for any length of time can imagine some of our struggles.  Dan was very different from Tom, the man who started the church, and those differences eventually came to a head and we experienced yet another church split.  This time, Dan left and started his own church.

This was a great struggle for my family.  My husband at the time, Dave, really loved Dan.  Dan was able to reach him in ways the other men had not been able to.  Now, I am not saying the men of the church did not try...they did.  But so many of the male bonding activities were centered on sports and Dave was not a sports kind of guy.  So sports oriented were the men that we would change our church service time to accommodate watching the Superbowl.  He would try to participate at times, but would usually come home humiliated, feeling much the same way I did when it came to housework.  He just was not good at it.  He liked debating with the men, but his ideas were usually challenges to the “status quo” and not readily accepted.  While we were in the same situation as the other couples in the church...marriage, job, kids, etc., we were several years younger and still had that push to challenge things...just because.

Dan also had a great influence on me.  As I mentioned before, he and Connie set a great example for respect and equality in marriage.  Her gifts were just as important to highlight as his and he encouraged women to participate in many areas.  I attribute my writing and public speaking today to Dan.  One day we were having a lively discussion on some things very dear to our heart in his living room (I had graduated out of the kitchen with Dan) and he said to me “Write that down”.  I said, “Write what down?”  He replied “What you just said, write it down.”  I did, and it became an article for a newsletter the church produced called “The Salt Mine”.  Not long after that, he asked me to take his place at an event he was scheduled to speak at and could not attend.  I felt very honored to be considered to stand in his stead.  I have not stopped writing or talking since.

We ended up attending both churches for a while.  The “old” church held great pull to us — we helped raise each others kids, got baptized together, shared our joys and heartaches with each other, prayed together.  As I said, I did not quite fit as well as some of the women did, but their influence and encouragement in raising my kids was priceless.  I cannot ignore that through this body of believers I learned to study the bible, the importance of community and witnessed the deep love of God.  It was a great foundation.

We eventually chose Dan’s church.  Some came with him, others stayed behind, new people were added. We grew and thrived there.  It was exciting to be on the ground floor of a new church.  This one was more formal in some ways than the old church, as we had a denomination we were under (Assemblies of God), but still met as a “house church”.  We rented a local hall on Sundays for our meetings and eventually converted Dan and Connie’s garage into a meeting room as well.

We kept connection with many of the people in the “old” church.  It wasn’t always a deep connection, at times only occasionally seeing each other through various events, but it was always good to see them.   Eventually, Dan and Connie left too, moving to a different part of the country (a total of three times in fact), and have settled in Seattle, WA.   We have kept in touch all these years consistently and I treasure their place in my life.

So, we fast forward to today, the table of friends.  Many of us now grandparents, some finding their way to attending the same church together again, others no longer attending any “organized” church at all, and Dan, now a newly ordained Anglican minister!  Talk about never seeing something coming...that would be it.

We gather at Don and Kathy’s house, one of the couples whose marriage was birthed in the “old” church and are still together - 33 years now I believe.  Amazing.  We eat dinner together, and drink wine and sangria.  A few of us that arrived early got to partake of Kathy’s famous “Cosmos”...something that probably would not have happened when we were attending church together “back in the day”.  While I do remember sharing a bit of wine a time or two all those years ago, it never flowed as freely as it does today.  Those of us who chose to partake appear to be moderate, responsible drinkers and it is one of the things we have “grown” in.  We also enjoy discussing wines and such and a few of us attend wine tastings together.  Some of our group choose not to drink alcohol (lips that touch wine will never touch mine), and no one thinks badly of the other for their choices.  Maturity is a wonderful thing.

Here are the names of those in attendance:  Dan & Connie, Don & Kathy, Chuck & Sue S., Barry & Cheryl, Jim & Maggie, Bill & Sue, Mike and Bill P.  I will attempt to connect the dots.  From the “old” days:  Dan, Connie, Don, Kathy, Barry, Maggie, Mike and Bill P.  Those grafted in by re-marriage:  Sue S., Cheryl, Jim and Bill.

Don and Kathy have a long dining table in their spacious country kitchen and in the middle of our meal, Father Dan encourages us to tell our stories of meeting Christ. We encourage him to start with his, and since another attendee, Chuck, was instrumental in that, we hear a bit of his story too.  Kathy tells her story, which brings her to her connection with Barry, who was friends with the man who would become her husband Don. (It was Barry who introduced them)  Maggie shares her story, and her husband Jim, shares his recent health struggles and the wonder of God through it.  Then we hear from Cheryl, whose story is quite amazing and reminds us all that it is the love and grace of Jesus that drew us.  Throughout the evening we all interject a bit of something, especially after we hear the details again of how some of us got connected.  A few help tell another’s story.  Believe it or not, I am not talking a whole lot, mostly just drinking it all in and smiling at the wonder of it all.

I think of how many there had an influence on me as I literally “grew up” amongst them. The connection with Dan and Connie I described earlier.  But many here are forever etched on my heart.  One of my best friends ever, is Bill P.  His story is very deep and early on in our relationship God placed a seed in my heart for him that has planted deep roots that are not easily moved.  He was in and out of my life for many years as he would leave church, come back, leave again and eventually left the area and moved to Seattle.  But we stayed friends, talking on the phone, writing letters.  He eventually found his way back to South Bend and we again went to church together for many years.  He is “Uncle Bill” to my kids and a part of most family dinners and events.

Barry was married to Evie at the time we attended church together and their house became a refuge for me from the chaos of my own.  My first husband and I were struggling on many levels and I confided our deep secrets to Barry and Evie, many times late at night after I finished my shift at a local Cantonese restaurant, “Marks”.  I would show up on their doorstep bearing leftover Egg Drop Soup and they would say, “Stay a while” and that was my cue to bear my soul.  Evie and I became good friends and she was one of the women who really encouraged me in raising my children. 

Barry is forever in my heart for many reasons, but one that stands out is an apology he made to me.  During the time we were attending church, we had a pool party at someone’s home.  At some point a few of the guys thought it a good idea to start throwing women in the pool.   After throwing a couple of the women in, they set their sights on me and grabbed my arms and legs.  As they were carrying me to the pool I asked them not to throw me in.  I did not do well in water and was not a great swimmer and especially do poorly when it comes to “horsing around” in the water.  When I was young, my crazy brother in law, the one that beat my sister, thought it was great fun to hold me under the water one year we were at the lake.   A six foot plus man holding a 10 year old under the water against their will and then laughing about it when they finally let the gasping child free can leave a mark - and it did for me.  The closer they carried me to the water, the more terrified I got.  They ignored my pleas and kept walking towards the pool and when I realized they were going to go through with it, I became hysterical; crying, begging and pleading for them not to.  My hysteria must have moved them, because they put me down at the pools edge, leaving me embarrassed at my outburst, yet grateful it had an impact.  It hurt me that they would allow me to get to that point and not listen in the beginning, but life went on.  Years later, at a church reunion, Barry came to me and apologized sincerely for that day.  It meant a great deal to me that even though much time had passed, he still remembered and thought enough of me to make it right.

There are so many more stories of these friends, these comrades, demonstrating true “agape” love for each other.  It was our common love of God that drew us together and it is that same love that keeps us coming back.  The years have given us the wisdom to know how precious true friendships are and that relationship is really what God is all about.  So many of the “rules” we once thought so important have faded, but what remains is the love.

So as I sit at the end of the table, listening to these friends, watching, observing - I am pleased.  Pleased at who they have become, pleased at who I have become.  I no longer consider myself second class because I hate cleaning house.  In fact, I have no shame in stating that finally, after many years of dreaming about it, this year I have on occasion hired a housekeeper. 

No longer do the men and women talk separately; we all sit together at one table, equally sharing what is on our hearts.  There are no judgements of the “new” spouses, all are welcomed into the mix.  I am witnessing dreams being fulfilled and dreams yet to begin.  Some of us are still struggling with many things, but some of us have found the peace we were seeking all those years ago.  All this warms my heart and I believe, makes God smile.  It is life, it is friendship, it is fellowship...it is God.

Long Road...

I wrote this piece while contemplating how quickly things can change our lives, especially a heartbreak.  One moment all is well and with just a few words, knowledge comes your way that changes everything.  Its at those times you just hope you can feel peace again.

Long Road

The storm that came through is one that rips hearts
It breaks your dreams and upsets your carts

I feel whipped and winded, dazed and confused
It came like a tornado and ripped me in two

It’s a long road back to the calm after the storm
Walking through debris that can cause great harm

Feelings, heartaches, pain strewn about
Seeing it all before me makes me want to shout

Shout to the heavens, cry aloud
Scream at the destruction that is all around

People have been wounded and lives re-arranged
Foundations have crumbled and everything is changed

The pain of it all seems too much to bear
The reality of it just seems so unfair

I look for my center, the peace and the quiet
But all I see are the remains of a riot

My world has been demolished by a raging fire
And there is no trace of the peace I desire

Where did it all go and can I get it back?
Why couldn’t I defend against this destructive attack?

Like most storms there was no way to control it
It came and went in what seemed just a moment

But the power it carried was considerable
The damage it left behind is miserable

It’s a long road back to the calm after the storm
Searching for the way that will bring me home

©Sue Barnard  8/2010