MANY THANKS

I just wanted to pop in this evening to tell you thank you so much for all of your heartfelt messages as we have spent the past week navigating life now without my Dad.  Honestly, it's been a whirlwind of preparation and arrangements and details and we are worn out so I haven't had any time to be on social media and finish reading them all yet, but I will.  I'm spending this week trying to catch up.  Those I've seen so far have been so encouraging and our family truly appreciates how you have cared for us through your kind words.  

We had Dad's funeral yesterday and it was a bittersweet celebration of his life.  Our greatest desire was not only that we honored Dad and everything he meant to us, but that we drew attention to our sweet Lord that Dad loved so much and followed with all of his heart.  I believe the Lord was gracious and granted us favor in that desire.  I wanted to share just a few personal glimpses from his service with you as well, you all have been so kind to our family over the years that I thought you might enjoy seeing them. 

When thinking about Dad's casket spray, we all knew that we didn't want the usual formal, fancy spray.  That wasn't Dad.  My sister had an acquaintance that she used to work with who is now a florist and we worked with her to design the spray.  (Highly recommend The Arrangement in Yukon if you're local, they were wonderful to work with.)  You all know that Red River, NM, is a special vacation spot for our family and has been since the first time we went in 1984.  Dad loved the mountains.  The florist agreed to let my sister supply a lot of the stems from her land and garden, so she brought in pine and cedar clippings, snapdragons that she grew from seed, blue salvia, and some pecan leaf branches.  We were so pleased with how it turned out. 

My Mom and sisters had also put our heads together to personalize it a bit further, and came up with the idea to tuck some of Dad's tools into the arrangement.  So I gathered some things out of the garage that I thought would work well and lightly wired them in or stuck them down into the floral foam if possible.  I used a small level, a few screwdrivers, a wrench, clamp, putty knife, chisel, fold out wooden ruler, and a few of his paint sticks the he kept to refer to the colors.  Dad also especially loved Christmas and the Fourth of July so we added a small flag and a bubble light that he had made into a nightlight. It was just so unique and represented him well, exactly what we wanted. 

We gathered up some special mementos and Dad's favorite things and displayed them in the foyer.  Over the years Dad made each of his girls and then each of his grandkids wooden step stools, so we all brought ours and set them out along with the other special mementos and photos.  The grandsons all chose one of Dad's ties to wear at the funeral. 💙

I'll close with the copy of what I shared during the funeral if you're interested in reading.  Those who know me in person know that speaking is not my favorite thing to do, especially in such an emotional setting, but last week as I thought about sharing the Lord brought some specific things to mind that I wanted to convey.  My prayer is that Dad was honored well, we sure do love him and already feel the huge hole in our hearts.  

Good Afternoon,  I’m Jennifer, Phil and Vivian’s oldest daughter if we haven’t met. Thank you all so much for being here today.  We know there are many other places you could have been and other things you could spend this time doing, but we’re truly grateful that you have joined us here to honor my Dad, and I’m thankful to share a few words about him with you today.  

After we returned home from Houston Monday evening, I woke Tuesday morning and spent some time in the Word reading from Dad’s favorite Psalm, number 84, his key verses which you’ve seen printed in the folder today.  Early in the chapter as David expresses his joy in being in the tabernacle of the Lord, I couldn’t help but think about how much joy Dad must be experiencing as he is seeing first hand the words that he has faithfully studied the majority of his days come to life. He walked uprightly. And now he is beholding every good thing the Lord has stored up for him. The chapter concludes saying "O Lord of Hosts, blessed is the man who trusts in you." Dad had a deep, lasting trust in the Lord and is experiencing first hand that blessing of a life lived glorifying God.    

My Dad was not the life of the party (but he usually helped prepare for the party) but when he did talk, a wise person would lean in and listen, and probably would not soon forget what he had to say. Although I could never live up to the incredible example that my Dad has set, in many ways we are the same person.  We don’t particularly need to talk a lot but  we are always thinking about something. We would rather figure out how to do something ourselves than try to explain to someone else what we wanted or hand the project over to someone else to complete it. We are not overly emotional on the outside, but hold deep feelings about things on the inside.   He taught me a wealth of practical tips, tricks, and skills that I draw from every day, and he’s taught my husband and kids some of those things too. 

Anyone who knows Dad for long knows he is a craftsman and a problem solver.  As an adult, every time we’ve moved, there have been quite a few projects Dad has helped with in each new place we’ve lived, and I know that’s true for Corbin and Sarah as well.  His latest joy was spending time in Seminole on Micah and Sarah’s land and helping them with “country” projects there.  He replaced the batteries in all of our watches.  He built things for us.  He guided us through completing our own projects.  He hung wallpaper for me.   He cranked ice cream on the Fourth of July.  He cut up the celery and onions in precise cubes for the dressing at Thanksgiving. He fixed cars. He glued broken things back together.  He wound the clocks- yes, they still have plenty of wall clocks in their house that carry chimes throughout the house every hour (believe me, I used to stop all of them at night when I would come back home for a visit or they would keep me up all night since I wasn’t used to hearing them any more). He knows every inch and quirk of the house, because he’s rebuilt or built from scratch every bit of it.  I don’t really remember a time growing up when he wasn’t working on a project or fixing something, and most of that time our house was under construction. And I don’t mean just cosmetic updates.  With occasional help from friends on some bigger projects, he almost single handedly doubled the square footage of the house, adding on a large section across the back span of the house and an entire second floor with two staircases leading up to it.  We’ve heard it from several friends these past few days, but anyone who was ever in Dad’s garage could verify what a well equipped workshop it is (and we’re pretty sure we caught a glimmer of wonder and jealousy in their eyes).  It isn’t fancy by any means, but it contains any tool or supply one could ever need. And it is perfectly organized.  When I was gathering some of Dad’s most used tools and favorite little things to incorporate into his flowers here I knew exactly where to go to find what I was looking for.  Even recently when he wasn’t physically able to go into the garage to get something, he could tell us exactly where it was just by picturing it in his mind.  

When I was young just starting to wonder what Dad’s job was, my mind couldn’t compute that they said he was an “Engineer”. I had no idea he drove trains and I couldn’t figure out when he had time to be gone on trips since he left every morning and came home every day before dinner.  After clarifying that he was a “Mechanical” Engineer and explaining what that was, his career didn’t seem quite so thrilling to this young girl.  But it was the perfect occupation for his precise, analytical mind.  I know a favorite memory of Corbin’s and mine was when we were elementary age and Dad took us to work with him a few times.  Every day he walked through the neighbor’s back yard and waited at the city bus stop behind our house to ride to work at City Service in the First National Bank building downtown. We would pay our fare and ride with him (so many stops!) and  while in his office he copied pages out of graph paper books that we would spend the morning filling in with whatever patterns and colors our hearts desired. Then when he might actually need to get some work done he’d turn us loose and send us down to the lobby to explore Streets, the Hallmark store, and other shops along the corridor.  And we always looked forward to a slice of Big Al’s pizza down in the tunnels.  This past Christmas my family had planned to go see the decorations at the newly refurbished First National, but we were never able to coordinate a free evening to do it.  After Christmas I ended up asking Mom and Dad to go with me so just the three of us toured all of the festive Christmas spaces and walked down memory lane rambling through various parts of Dad’s old familiar building.  I didn’t realize at the time how grateful I would be that things worked out on that outing just how they did and what a treasured memory we were making. 

  

Another vivid childhood memory is camping out at what was once known as “Beracah”. Mom and Dad have been members of Putnam City Baptist Church for over 50 years, so that was our home church as kids.  Some here today that are long time PCBC friends might remember that Beracah was a piece of land just off of what is now the Kilpatrick Turnpike and Northwest Expressway that they intended to build on one day, but at the time it was still just vacant pasture land we were able to access and spend time at.  It was really cold the night we were out there so Dad left the lantern on to try to keep the tent warmer.  You might see this coming, but at some point we woke up to the lantern burning a hole in the side of the tent!  Pretty sure we got home much earlier than expected from that overnight adventure.  

In his mid-30s Dad became a believer after being raised in a devout Catholic  family.  From that point on he was devoted to being a faithful student of the Word. He taught a 5th grade Sunday school class for years, in fact the florist who assembled the casket spray attended PCBC as a child and said being a part of Dad’s class was the clearest memory she had of her time spent there. He spent the greatest portion of his teaching time leading adults.  Many of you here have been under his teaching for years, and although I know I’m biased I suspect you can verify that his lesson is possibly the most sound and thorough Bible teaching you’ve likely consistently encountered.  And it probably contains the most words he will speak for the week, but what more important message could he relay than the understanding of God’s Word?  It was very important for him to study and teach the word with accuracy, without reading anything extra or his own thoughts or opinions into it.

My memory is foggy on certain events from growing up, but one picture that will always be burned in my mind is all of the early mornings that I would catch a glimpse (or rather the occasional early morning that I would actually see with my own eyes- I certainly was rarely up that early- but we still knew the routine) but I would see Dad sitting in his chair at his desk studying his Bible and diligently taking notes and writing cross references in the margins.  And of course he had a little ruler he used to underline or highlight verses (that were probably color coded somehow), and everything in his Bible was written with a mechanical pencil in his precise script.    As a young family we would have memory verses written on index cards that we would review at breakfast, and we often had family devotions in the evenings once a week or so.  I distinctly remember one when dad made a big yellow sun out of poster board and printed “God Is” in the center of it, and then wrote a different characteristic of God on each ray coming out of the center, then we studied a different one of those characteristics during each devotion for the next several sessions. It was important to Dad that he was raising us to know and grow in God’s Word like he was.  We know that Dad was a pillar and frequent resource for doctrinal questions at his church.  His pastor Bill Hulse was sharing with us the other night how Dad as a Deacon and leader has been instrumental for decades in helping to craft key policies that are still being referred to at their church today when a question arises about church polity.  What a heritage. It’s often said of many, but my Dad was truly one of a kind. 

Before I close I want to thank Mom publicly.  Over the past 4 months, regardless of how tired, stressed, worried, frustrated, or anxious she was she met every need that Dad had physically, and rarely left his side.  Each time I came to help I expected her to be drained and down in spirits but most of the time she was cheery, positive, and encouraging to Dad- cheering on each small accomplishment, all  while also being engaging, compassionate, and encouraging to others we encountered in waiting rooms, treatment rooms, and even those coming in to their home to care for Dad.   We truly watched her put her wants and needs aside to faithfully care for him.  Even after 53 1/2 years they grew closer these past few months, spending time doing devotions and reading the Word together.  She was steadfast and clung to her trust in the Lord through those months.  I also want to thank my sisters and their families for how everyone pitched in and used their gifts to help and minister to Dad- whether it was transporting to doctor visits, moving furniture, researching details, meeting physical needs around the house and yard, or helping with so many different aspects of his care.  Today my sisters and I have expressed our love and our desire to honor our Dad each in our own way, Corbin and I sharing with words and Sarah sharing with her creative talents, carefully selecting many of the flowers in his casket spray from her garden and spending too many hours to count compiling the family video you’ll see in a few minutes. 

Last Saturday night was our last one with Dad here on this earth.  It was after midnight and we thought he was stable enough for the time being and situated in a regular hospital room for the night until we could see doctors and discover test results the next morning, so I went back to the hotel to sleep while Mom stayed the night in the room with Dad.  After we both had had about an hour of sleep Dad took a turn for the worse and it was evident that they needed to move him to ICU.  By the time I got back to the hospital they had already moved him and were diligently working to care for him. Mom was filling me in on what I had missed and she recounted how everything had happened so fast and we were all so tired and couldn’t think clearly that she wasn’t sure what to do when they needed to transfer him to ICU.  Should she stay in her pjs and just go as is or get dressed?  Always the voice of guidance and wisdom, Dad simply told her to Get Dressed.  Those two simple words were one of the last phrases he was able to verbally communicate with her. Get dressed. Be ready. I truly believe that through his lifetime of study, preparation, and teaching of God’s Word,  that’s what his underlying message consistently was. Be ready. Be ready for what the Lord has called you to do.  Be ready to give an account.  Be ready to help someone in need.  Be ready to support someone who is hurting.  Be ready to give of yourself.  But most of all, be ready for eternity.  Be ready to meet the Lord face to face, knowing that you have nothing to offer your Savior more than a life lived seeking to know and glorify him.  And I know Dad would say the same to all of us today.  Get dressed.  Be ready.