Sunday, February 1, 2015

Gracious Providence in Provision and Grieving

We can't grieve until we realize that we've lost something.  I'm very fortunate--I've only lost two people in my life that were close family.  One was my father, and the other was my children's godmother--Butch Smith.  Oddly, it took me 12 years to truly grieve for my father, and 2 years to truly grieve for Butch.  I was struck by grief in two peculiar ways which leads me to believe that it was brought about by the HS.

First, one of my dear friends at work, Walker Wells, told me that I had to read "The Road."  Given Walker's faith and intellect, I knew that it had to be good.  But, as always, I find it hard to take recommendations from anyone.  Then, I came down with a pretty significant bug and had to go home from work.  That afternoon, I finally read "The Road" in its entirety.  I couldn't put it down.  The picture of the father's love and provision--and the fact that they were "carrying the light" in a post-apocalypse world full of cannibals--brought me to tears over my father.  This was some dozen years after his death.  Clearly, Walker's suggestion was providential.

That's what my father did--he "carried the light."  He carried the light of grace.  He spent his last 15 years working as the chaplain at Partlow, the former state home for those who were mentally retarded.  (I'm sure that's not the PC word, but it was the word used at the time.)  My father loved those at Partlow.  I remember one in particular, Wayne, who came to our house frequently and was my father's unofficial assistant.  My father loved them, and me and my sister, without condition.  Yet, he had his issues.  In his last years, he was often hateful towards my mother.

I'm not besmirching my father's name by admitting this, but simply being honest which allows for grace.  Yesterday, I was listening to a podcast with Barnabas Piper, John Piper's son, and he was relating the story of when he found out that his baseball hero was a philanderer.  It knocked him right off Barnabas' pedestal.  This is where we go wrong as humans and Christians--we want to put people on the pedestal.  This is not grace.  Grace is seeing and acknowledging all aspects of a person and, yet, loving them.

As to Butch, she filled a role in Debbie's life for which I will ever be thankful.  For many years, I put work above my wife.  (That's why, as it's told in Genesis, God "cursed" work--to redirect our attention from work to God, our spouses and families.)  During those years, Butch was "there" for Debbie.  Debbie could not have had a better friend, indeed mother-figure, than Butch.  Butch also exhibited one-way love to me and my children.  It was nothing short of breath-taking to see such love.

And yet, Butch had her issues.  I think the parent-child relationship is perhaps the most difficult one to navigate.  Indeed, none of us can navigate it successfully.  Indeed, another person, one who is not a "blood parent" can provide one-way, unconditional love more so than the blood-kin.  It's something about the way that God set up the parent-child relationship.  It's not flawed, but it's sure peculiar.  This is what Butch did for Debbie.  But for Butch's support of Debbie, Debbie probably would have left me during those years that I was so selfish.

As with my father, my grieving for Butch struck out of the blue.  I was at lunch with a man that I'd met at a Christmas party.  We were both in the same industry and wanted to get together for lunch.  He reminded me at lunch that, not only was he a member at Trinity, but he was also on the Admin Board--meaning that he had to know Butch.  He did.  As he recalled his fond memories of Butch, tears of grief and thankfulness began welling up in my eyes--sitting at Bettola restaurant.

So, thank you to my father and to Butch for the one-way, unconditional love which you showered upon me and my family.  Praise be to God that you were both Saints and Sinners and, therefore, real and, therefore, persons that I could love instead of worship--for there is only One worthy of our worship.

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