My Gentle Giant

Somewhere within grief is a great joy. I do not believe I could have said this with such reassurance had I not experienced it so overwhelmingly this past week.

I had the honor of being with my father as he passed from this life to the next and I can unequivocally say that it was the most profound moment of my life thus far. It was horrible and wonderful all at once.

I also had the honor of writing his eulogy. For those of you who knew my dad, take comfort in these words. For those of you who did not, you missed out. He was a delight.

I hope these words comfort you. I hope they make you laugh. I hope they nudge you to reach out to your people now and from now on. Time on this earth is limited.

Until I write again - Lauren

There once was a woman who died and went to heaven. When she got there, God said it wasn’t her time. She had 33 more years left to live, so she went back to earth and lived it up. She got plastic surgery, died her hair, got new teeth, and bought fancy clothes. One day she was tragically hit by a bus and died straightaway. Once she got to heaven, she told god, “I thought I had more time.” God said, “I didn’t recognize you.”

Probably not the most traditional way to start a eulogy but my dad wasn’t traditional. He was a fantastic mix of quiet strength, compassion, and quirky.

One thing you may not know about my dad is how funny he was. When he was department head for his Sunday school, he used to spend hours perusing the internet for jokes like the one I just shared to tell folks to put them at ease and put a smile on their faces.

My dad fiercely loved those in his life and if you were ever on the receiving end of his affection, you know how true this is. In the quiet places, he sought to comfort those in his life. This might have been a hospital visit or a card, or coffee in is pj’s. In recent times, it meant praying from his lazy boy. Jim Phillips loved his people. He cried out on their behalf. As I read through some of his journals, I got to see into the special visits he had with so many of you. His written words about the friends in his life show me just how special you all were to him.

He seemed to be especially fond of Ephesians. I found verse after verse marked and one theme began to emerge: the power of god. That even in the mystery of Christ, when we have faith, when he had faith, God was there ready to fill him up. He underlined verse after verse about crying out to God for strength.

Ephesians 3:14-17, 19 “For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name I pray that out of His glorious riches, he may strengthen you with power through his spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith…that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”

My dad desperately sought the fullness that only our Lord can give. He wrestled with his own depression, fought feelings of inferiority, battled in the dark corners of his mind, and wondered if he was enough. Still, he pursued God with reckless abandon and through it all found comfort and peace from the only One who can satisfy our souls. The same is true for any of you here today. No matter who you are, what you’ve done, what you’ve thought about doing, where you come from, there is rest for your weary soul today in Christ. He came to give us all an abundant life despite our circumstances. By grace you can and will be saved.

My dad was a huge movie buff and spent his early years working at a movie theatre. When Sandra Dee burst onto the scene, he declared her the finest actress of the year. Did you know my dad loved Sandra Dee? I didn’t. But he wrote extensively about her in his journals from his teenage years. In 1959, he wrote her a personal letter and was convinced this was the first step towards everlasting love. How could she resist him? He just knew once she read his note, she’d fall in love with him.

Did you know my dad went to work as a teenager to provide for his family so that his mother and brothers could have food on the table and shoes on their feet? He did. It was a pattern set into motion early on in his life: he always made sure those around him were taken care of no matter the cost to himself.

Did you know that there was nothing my dad couldn’t build, fix, or design? He was a master craftsman.

Did you know that my dad spent the early years of parenthood eating hotcakes and sausage and fishing with my brother and I because he wanted us to know from the start that we were his treasure? He did.

Did you know that immediately after my mom finished praying for God to send the right person to her the phone rang? It was my dad. Doesn’t matter that it took him 2 months to call. He did. My dad did things in his own time and always at the right time. 50 years later the love between my mom and dad is a testimony to the vows they made so long ago. Through it all, together they remain.

Did you know that my dad never met an animal he didn’t want to raise? Growing up, Jay and I have memories of crows in the backyard, deer that came home with him, snakes, ferrets, and most recently a slew of squirrels he raised. As many squirrels as he raised the last several years, he only had two names he would give them: Pearl or Buster. I guess that kept things simple. He loved animals so much that he often couldn’t let go. I remember coming home to visit a few years ago just after his cat Zena had died.

My mom told me offhandedly to not put anything in the downstairs freezer. I didn’t ask why. I sure wish I had. Because when I went to get something from the fridge, I opened the freezer door too only to find the cat wrapped in a few garbage bags and frozen solid. I accidently dropped the frozen cat in the drive way and the sound it made as it crashed to the ground was quite distinct just in case you wanted to know.

My dad had recently had surgery on his toe and couldn’t walk well enough to give her a proper burial. See, that’s the kind of man he was. He believed that all creatures deserved dignity. That’s how he treated everyone he knew: as though they were indescribably precious.

And you are.

What we want you to know in this moment and as you leave this place is that you matter. Even if you don’t think you count. Even if you don’t feel like you deserve it. You matter simply because you are, because our loving Father created you. We hope that you can find rest and strength in this truth.

So, take the leap of faith to believe that your worth comes from the mere fact that God chose you. Family, friends, always take the time to go see your people. Take the time to talk. Tell those you love what they mean to you and why they matter to you.

Comfort those who mourn. Be the hands and feet of Christ to all you see.

Matthew 11:28 Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

Rest easy gentle giant. For you are home now. And it is well. Blessed be.