31. As Don Dies

“Today [March 19] is the Feast of St. Joseph, the righteous man….We find Mary standing under the cross. Seeing his mother and his beloved disciple, John, Jesus says to his mother, ‘Woman, this is your son.’ (John 19:27). About Joseph there is no word. What happened to him? Did he die?… Joseph was a saint! He lived it all in a great hiddenness. Ignored by the Gospel writers and by the early church, he emerges today as a man trusting in God even when there was hardly anything for him to hold on to.”

Henri J. M. Nouwen, Sabbatical Journey: The Diary of His Final Year (New York: Crossroad, 1998), 130, 131.

I write this column as I sit by my dying father-in-law, Don Bodamer. Don has been in declining health in the last several months, but has been able to enjoy meals and TV shows with the family until ten days ago when he refused to eat and began staying in bed. We celebrated his 93rd birthday on March 24. Although he joined us at the dining room table and blew out his candles on the banana pudding that Susan had made for him, he was in no mood to celebrate and ate none of the pudding that day. (The next day, he had a nice bowlful, though, which he liked and which made us feel better.)

Since I have known him, for more than forty years, Don was always the pastor’s right-hand man. Don loved to plan, to research, to lay out options so a decision could be made. If the sanctuary needed to be re-roofed, or the kitchen needed a new dishwasher, or a new church sign needed to be installed, the pastor would call Don. This was in the days before the internet. Don would send for mailings of descriptions and prices, would call to speak with sales reps, would collate all the information, make a neat type-written presentation, and give it to the pastor and the session. This freed the pastor to visit the sick, prepare a sermon, head a meeting, and write a newsletter article. 

Once Don got an idea in his head, he was very persistent. This affected things at church, too. Don’s career at Dupont focused on safety, so if there was a safety issue at the church, Don was on it. Was there a tree close enough to the sanctuary that it could fall on the building with a big wind gust? Don was getting bids to have it removed before anyone else even knew there was a potential problem. Were there too many church door keys floating around the community? Don donated Dupont stock to the church that was to be sold and used to replace all locks with top-of-the-line Sledge locks. At times,I imagine that got to be a bother for the pastor and others in leadership, but I’m sure they all knew Don’s heart and knew that he had the best interests of the church in mind.

Don’s major volunteer work at the church was as the leader of the Ramblers. This was the senior adult group that met monthly for meals and trips. Again, Don used his organizational prowess to discover all the sites within a two-hour drive of Nashville that older adults might enjoy, figure an affordable price per person, make reservations, secure transportation, create sign up sheets, and make sure that everything went smoothly on the day’s event. 

When Don retired from Dupont, he became one of the founders of Fun with Science. FWS was a program offered to local schools by retired Dupont employees. Every Thursday for many years, Don and his team did a 45-minute all-school presentation in some school’s gymnasium. The presentation was part magic show and part explaining why this was not magic at all. It’s science and science is fun and wonderful and you ought to think about giving your life to a career in science! It was evangelism, Dupont-style.

I have many other stories and memories and appreciations of Don, of course. But these came to mind as I read Nouwen’s comments about St. Joseph. Most saints are ordinary people who try to express their love for God and church and community through their unique blend of gifts, personality, and character. They do not make the papers or the news features or the gospels. They do what they do not for flash or splash but because there is a need and someone needs to do something. So, the saint steps up. They are not perfect. They can be overbearing because they have a vision and they have a plan and they want it done right (which is their way). Saints can be frustrating. Maybe that’s why a lot of them were martyrs. 

I sit by the bedside of Saint Donald, an imperfect husband, father, brother, employee, and church member. Imperfect, but wanting to help. This side of heaven, that’s all we can ask for.

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25. Missing Loved Ones

“Absence and presence touch each other. Precisely where we feel most present to each other we experience deeply the absence of those we love. And precisely at moments of great loss we can discover a new sense of closeness and intimacy. This is also what the Eucharist is about. We announce the presence of Christ among us until he comes again! There is both presence and absence, closeness and distance, an experience of at-homeness on the way home. I was struck again by the paradox that loving someone deeply means opening yourself to the pain of his or her absence.”

Henri J. M. Nouwen, Sabbatical Journey: The Diary of His Final Year (New York: Crossroad, 1998), 114.

Every year near the end of January and near the end of March, I realize that I am feeling down. When I realize that I am in a funk, it takes little reflection to understand why. I miss Mom and Dad. My mom died on January 21, 2015, and my dad died on April 1, 2013.  This year, I’ve been reminded of this regularly through Facebook’s “on this date” feature that takes you to the post you made that day in prior years. For example, today’s was:

“Dad seems to be getting weaker in his breathing. He is receiving ‘comfort care’ so there are no monitors and no vital sign checks. He looks very relaxed. Of course, there is no way to know if he is aware of his situation or our presence, but we treat him as if he is, just in case. At the suggestion of my son, Ben, I read several chapters of the Bible aloud (and loudly) to Dad, including John 14, Romans 8, and Revelation 21-22. Those words helped me and, I believe, helped Dad to prepare for the end of this life. Tomorrow is Easter… and Dad’s 77th birthday.”

I think of Mom and Dad a lot, but especially when the siblings get together. “Mom and Dad would be pleased to know that we all still love each other and love to be with one another,” I think. Then, there are milestones. When my first poem was published, I really wished Mom, who had many songs and poems of her own published, could have known. When we moved into a new house that we had built to our specifications, I wished Dad, who was wheelchair-bound, could have been here to celebrate with us and to use the elevator so he could see each floor. When our first grandchild was born, I wish they could have held their latest great-grandchild.

There is hope that loved ones who have died can somehow know what is going on in our lives. One of my sisters told me that every once in a while, she notices a hummingbird is looking into her house from the kitchen window. Mom loved hummingbirds. So, my sister sees this as a sign that Mom is “just checking in.” Not that Mom was reincarnated as a hummingbird, although that may have been a close second choice to her were there not a Heaven. After my sister told me that, I went home to work in my garden. I heard a loud buzzing above me. I looked up and it was a ruby-throated hummingbird hovering over the green bean plants I was weeding. I had to laugh as I said, “Hey there! Tell Mom everything is good.”

I think this is the paradox that Nouwen has discovered. We are separated from a loved one, yet we sense their presence. In our sorrow, we find ways to celebrate their gain. We mourn their absence even as we celebrate new victories. I suppose that the more persons that you lose, the more real this paradox becomes. 

“Lent is a time to get in touch with our experience of absence, emptiness, unfulfillment, so that in the midst of our overcrowded lives we can remind ourselves that we are still waiting for the One who has promised to fulfill our deepest desires.”

Henri J. M. Nouwen, Sabbatical Journey: The Diary of His Final Year (New York: Crossroad, 1998), 114.

Image credits: Mom and Dad – me; Hummingbird – Image by YLawrence from Pixabay

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