Now, this was not a private conversation. In fact, about 500 people (by Jim’s estimation) bore witness.
We were given a generous and special gift from my sister and brother-in-law, which included tickets to an event at the St. Louis County Library and an overnight stay in a nearby hotel (the hotel is another blog post entirely). The event was an onstage interview with Garfunkel, moderated by a local St. Louis public radio host. Tickets included a pre-autographed copy of his new book, What is It All But Luminous, Notes From an Underground Man.
We knew the seating was first-come-first-served, so we planned to arrive at the library by 4:30 p.m. for the 7:00 p.m. event. We spent 30 minutes inside the library before they closed the doors at 5:00 p.m. to finish setup. Doors opened again at 6:00 p.m., so we spent an hour waiting outside. Jim and I were numbers one and two in line, respectively.
Before the library closed, I tried to bargain with the employees: My husband and I will help you set up if you’ll let us stay in here and save the front row center seats. They declined our generous offer, but they did show us where to get in line so we’d be first and we were.
We’re first in line!
Promptly at 6:00 p.m. the doors opened and we raced to our front and center seats. It was entirely worth the wait, even though it’s still 80-too-many degrees in St. Louis in October.
Here I am in front of the stage holding my book.
My hair looks a little funky from being outside in the St. Louis heat/humidity for an hour. But see how close the stage was?
There were absolutely no photos or videos allowed during the interview, so no photos of Artie. Which was OK because the interview was fascinating and toward the end they opened it up to questions from the audience.
So of course I raise my hand, and I’m the very last question.
The woman in charge of the event hands me the microphone. I’m about 10 feet from ART GARFUNKEL, y’all.
I momentarily froze. He was looking at me. The first thing that came out of my mouth was:
Me: ( Verklempt and overcome and almost involuntarily):Omigosh I am talking to Art Garfunkel.
AG + 500 people: Loud laughter
AG (Commenting on my top): I love your lace. Youknow wardrobe.
Me. (To myself):Omigosh a lifelong New Yorker just complimented my clothing.Art Garfunkel just said I look good. (I’m enormously thrilled as I’ve always been a huge fashion nut/clothes horse.)
Me (Aloud to Art Garfunkel + 500 people): Mumble mumble something lame like I try.
Me: First of all, thank you, because 46 years ago you taught me to harmonize. I listened to your songs all the time, and I’d go through them twice. First I sang your part and played it again and sang Paul’s part. I still sing a damned good harmony (I do).
AG: Smiles. Crowd laughs loudly.
Me (To myself): Omigosh I made Art Garfunkel smile.
Me (To AG): For all of your poetry, how is it that you’ve never put a melody to those words?
AG: Good question. They are two different things. Paul Simon is brilliant at it. I tried it and it didn’t work for me.
Me: Second question: The Concert in Central Park in 1981 was a true high point of my life.
AG: Mine too.
Me: I read that you didn’t like your performance. When I heard that, I thought to myself, “What in the world—?”
AG + 500 people: More loud laughter
Me: You were both flawless.
AG: You listened differently than I did; you heard the two of us back together, the songs, the memories … I heard the fine nuances and imperfections …
Me: I still watch it and it still makes me weep.
AG: Smiles at me.
We left our home near Memphis at about 8:30 a.m. and arrived in St. Louis in time for lunch. We met quite a few very nice people, many of whom were amazed that we had driven five hours. I’d have driven 10 hours for this experience.
Me with my autographed book
P.S. Oh, yeah I forgot to mention the book. It’s is an easy read, but, like Garfunkel, it’s a bit strange. He even admitted to being weird, so my saying this should not hurt our new BFF relationship. It’s sprinkled throughout with his poetry, which is quite nice, and is full of expressions of love for his wife and children.
Early one morning last week I checked Facebook and saw this status:
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.” — Washington Irving
I’m a crier. Weddings, funerals, books, movies, songs. The groom’s face at first glimpse of his bride. Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus. The book of Psalms. The Notebook. It’s embarrassing at times, but overall I count it as a blessing; I’d rather cry than not feel at all.
I’ve seen some tears this week. A few days ago at Manna House: a mother in raw, anguished grief on the morning after her daughter’s violent death. Later that day, a daughter’s agony as she searched for her missing parents and feared the worst.
Those moments took my breath away.
The women’s tears opened the door for comfort; an outward sign of need and vulnerability that would perhaps not otherwise have been expressed. An opportunity for others to empathize and walk with them through the grief, even if only for a moment or two. And an honor for me to be invited onto the sacred ground of another’s tears.
I’m comforted by Psalm 56:8:
Record my lament; list my tears on your scroll (or in your wineskin); are they not in your record?
In ancient times, tear bottles (or wineskins) were used to catch the owners’ tears in times of grief. King David wrote this Psalm as he was being pursued by enemies who sought to kill him. Some scholars say David believed that God has a tear bottle of His own in which He collects our tears.
I love that thought. That He sees each tear as it falls and keeps them in His bottle. That every tear I shed is known to Him. And that He comes, with tear bottle in hand, into to those raw, vulnerable moments when the tears will not be contained any other way.
One of the last photos taken of my Dad; Jim took it in the backyard of the house I grew up in, probably in late May 1993; they were cooking on the grill, which is why the dishtowel is slung over his shoulder.
The most important thing my Daddy taught me: grace
The Oxford American Dictionary defines grace as:
Simple elegance or refinement of movement,
(in Christian belief) The free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings.
A divinely given talent or blessing
The condition of being favored by someone
My Dad had grace in all its meanings. He moved gracefully, both physically and socially. He swung a golf club with grace and practiced orthodontics with grace. When he drove the boat, he could bring the rope right into the hands of the skier without missing a beat.
He loved to learn and schooled himself thoroughly on a variety of subjects; it’s hard to imagine that he never knew the Internet, never had an email address.
He loved most music, especially classical, and amassed an enviable collection. Among his favorites were Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Pathétique, Op. 74, The Impossible Dream, from Man of LaMancha and his favorite hymn, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.
He had a nickname for each of his patients and always remembered it. A handsome, well-dressed man, he could move easily in the most sophisticated social and professional circles, yet he could truly relate to and be accepted by those in the most humble of circumstances.
He wrote beautifully, was an accomplished and poised public speaker, he sang beautifully and just about the only thing at which he was not particularly adept was resealing a zip-top plastic bag.
His faith was profound as anyone I’ve ever known, yet as simple as a child’s. He knew that it was not our own goodness or our compliance to a set of rules that earned our place in heaven. If we could earn our own way, it would only give us cause for pride and arrogance. With a burning passion he hated the legalism that so many are willing to accept as a counterfeit for grace. Though they frustrated him, he felt for them, as he knew they would never know the true peace of the Father’s agape love.
When we chose his epitaph, we decided on one simple word — one word with several meanings that represented every facet of the life he lived on earth: grace.
This is my Daddy giving me my diploma at my high school graduation. He was president of the school board at that time and it just worked out so he could do that. And, yes, I know my hair is bad and that the white sandals are very bad, especially with the tan pantyhose.
This is my Daddy giving me my diploma at my high school graduation. He was president of the school board at that time and it just worked out so he could do that. And, yes, I know my hair is bad and that the white sandals are very bad, especially with the tan pantyhose.
So here are some more things my Daddy taught me:
“A mean-spirited person is his/her own punishment.” Daddy would always say in response to mean, hurtful behavior, whether directed toward us or others. I’m not sure it was great comfort at the time, but it has proven true. I’ve seen many miserable, hateful people in my life, and none of them are happy. Anyone who purposely inflicts pain on others is more miserable than they are making you. Don’t waste time and energy on revenge; it is unnecessary and really isn’t as much fun as it seems anyway.
God really is merciful. Daddy’s faith was the strongest, most powerful, simple, pure and most authentic of anyone I’ve ever known. He touched many people and impacted many lives for Christ. But the one thing Daddy knew that he could never bear was the loss of a child. He always said that if he ever lost a child, he would go crazy. God spared him that. Two of his children have been diagnosed with cancer, one suffered multiple miscarriages and one buried his wife of five years at the age of 30. Although I believe that Daddy’s faith would have seen him through any of these trials, he was spared and I’m grateful for that.
Love deeply, fully, unconditionally. His love never depended upon my accomplishments, outward appearance or anything but the fact that I was his child. He told me truth that I didn’t want to hear and when he hugged me he was never the first to let go. When I hug my kids, I never let go first.
Give. This might seem obvious, but it amazes me that so many people don’t get it. Stuff is not as important as people. He gave sacrificially and he gave with joy. He was generous wihout being indulgent. When I was pregnant with Elizabeth, just before she was born, we had an unexpected car repair. The charge was $1800, which may as well have been $180,000 at that time in our lives. Jim’s first call was to my dad. I know he must have been scared, he must have rehearsed how he was going to ask his father-in-law for $1800, but there was no need. Daddy sensed what he was trying to say and just asked, “How much do you need?” He sent the check that very day. He never asked when, how or if we would pay him back. We did, but we knew we didn’t have to. He knew our situation and our struggles without being told and he cared more about us than he did the money. After he died, we found several of the checks that he had never even cashed. I think I still have them somewhere, as a reminder that people really are more important than stuff.
The first week in October is always hard. My dad’s birthday was October 4 and it always makes me feel a little blue, though this is Daddy’s 15th birthday in Heaven.
He loved my daughters deeply and cherished his time with them. They are now 15 and 19, yet his earthly life with them stopped when Elizabeth was a new preschool graduate about to enter Kindergarten and Sara Ann was a happy one-year-old with beautiful dark eyes who took her first steps a mere month before he died. He was strong, with a gentle and protective way of loving my girls that is one of the things I miss the very most about him.
He taught me so much — over the next few days I’m going to share some of those things, as there are too many for just one day.
Never buy the one in front. He would get up early on our wekeends at our lakehouse in Arkansas and Elizabeth and her Dada would go to Wal-Mart. Months later, after I had bought some defective product, which I had picked up in haste, she reminded me, “I knew that would happen. You broke Dada’s rule. Never buy the one in front.” To this day, Elizabeth will reach to the far back of the shelf to avoid the one in front.
Pay attention to things. Sometimes we are so busy running to and fro that we don’t pay attention to things around us. On another one of Elizabeth and Dada’s early morning Wal-Mart trips, he had shown her how the the early morning dew sparkles on the grass. She still remembers the “sparklies,” and, at 19, still remembers the moment. Great moments often come when we pay attention to small things.
Don’t be afraid to feel. My dad was deeply emotional. He was not afraid to feel and not afraid to express it. He could never say the blessing at Christmas or Thanksgiving without choking up and making everyone else cry too. When he hurt, he hurt deeply, but his joy was deep.
Good things come to those who wait. He often drove us crazy moving slowly and taking his time making decisions or major purchases, but he taught us that the best things don’t come quickly or easily and are always worth waiting for.
More tomorrow as I remember him throughout the week.
It was nearly two weeks ago that Jim was informed that his position will be eliminated as of 12/31. He works for an international Fortune 500 company, with sales of $26 billion, that has seen more than its share of downsizing and outsourcing over the past several years. So while not entirely unexpected, the confirmation of our concerns over the past few months was nevertheless a blow.
Through the years, our family has been extravagantly blessed — we will celebrate 20 years of marriage later this month; 20 years of commitment, love, friendship and a shared sense of calling to our highest mission — the spiritual growth and development of our two girls. God has used us in spite of our many weaknesses, mistakes and failures to shape them into bright, beautiful, gifted, fun-loving and (usually!) delightful human beings whose hearts belong first and foremost to Him.
He has comforted us in the loss of those we have deeply loved and guided us through uncertain and anxious times. We have trusted Him with major decisions, serious illnesses and the daily stress, anxiety and worries that accompany life with teenage girls. We trust that in this transition He will be faithful as He has been before.
— My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9-10
When things are going well, we have the illusion of strength and security. It is not until we encounter a situation that is completely outside our control that we are forced to acknowledge that we are truly powerless. Nothing has really changed except our own mindset; we are not any less secure than we were when things were going smoothly; the only difference is that we now realize it! So — now that we have been reminded that we are weak, we can boast in our weakness and find peace and comfort in His strength.
Because we know that His grace is sufficient, we can choose to be free from worry about the future. That doesn’t mean that there is no fear or stress, or that there aren’t tears, discouragement and frustration; it doesn’t even mean that, knowing His goodness and faithfulness, we always do choose to be free from worry. There are good days and bad days.
What I do know for certain, though, is that, as I like to tell my kids, God’s plans for us have already been put into place. He had it figured out before we were born. He has answered the questions, done the deal, dotted every i and crossed every t. And He will reveal His plan to us on His timetable, not on our own. We are not called to understand His timing, just to trust Him and to do our best with the gifts He has given us.
Last week we heard a sermon from Sam, our former senior pastor. He preached from Daniel 3, (which is also what I’ve been studying in my Thursday morning Bible study) the story of Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego in the fiery furnace. The three men were thrown into the furnace by King Nebuchadnezzar because they would not worship the king’s idol. They could have avoided their fate by one simple act: bowing down to the idol. But they refused to take the easy way out; though they faced an agonizing death, they allowed themselves to be bound and faced the furnace. Here is what they said:
“O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” Daniel 3:16-18
They knew that God was able to deliver them from death; but they trusted Him even if he chose not to. And we all know the end of the story; they survived the furnace without even the smell of smoke on their clothing (v.27). We also know that there was a fourth man in the fire with them, whom many Bible experts believe to be Jesus. And the three men went on to prosper as they never had before and the king decreed that all would worship the one true God.
Sam said it so much better than I ever could, but the point is that Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego trusted completely, even to the point of death, not knowing if God would deliver them or not. What blessings would they have missed if they had sought to save their lives and avoid the furnace? The nation would have continued to worship a worthless statue and the three probably would not have been promoted to the lofty positions they achieved.
So, maybe we are in the furnace now. But we are not alone. There is a “fourth man” right here with us. And although it’s scary, I really don’t like heat at all, and an easy way out could be really nice right now, there will be blessings on the other side that are immeasurably more satisfying than earthly security.
Please pray for us; pray for patience, strength, guidance. But don’t worry about us — there really is no need — we are already rejoicing in the good that will come from this trial as we trust in His perfect will.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11
