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11 years ago
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Deacon
T.T. has been sad for the past few weeks - ever since Deacon Wilson passed away. Deacon Wilson, or just "Deacon" as he was commonly called by the members of The Carpenter's Shop, was eighty-two years old when he died from a stroke on a Tuesday afternoon in March. The pastor found him lying on the ground next to the shed where the riding lawn mower was stored. Deacon was apparently changing the oil in the mower before the first cutting of the year. Deacon loved Spring more than any other season for it represented new life.
The memorial service was on Friday. Sunday morning the weather was cloudy and misty. The pastor arrived early, as was his custom, to pray and review his sermon notes. He reached behind his seat for his umbrella and made a mental note to ask the greeters to move the umbrella stand just outside the church doors for the congregation to deposit their umbrellas before entering the sanctuary. This made him think of Deacon. Who would take his place escorting some of the older ladies from their cars under his umbrella this morning? Deacon had performed this task for years. When other greeters simply stood at the top of the steps to shake hands and open the church doors for worshipers, Deacon went out in the weather to make sure the older folk had some cover from the wind and rain.
As he exited his car and looked around the church grounds, the pastor noticed the beer cans and paper sacks tossed outside by passing motorists. Deacon had always picked up the trash in front of the church before anyone arrived and complained. He would have to get someone to handle this task as well, though few would want to risk getting their hands and suits dirty. "I'm sure going to miss Deacon." the pastor muttered softly.
The pastor wasn't the only one who noticed things weren't as neat and orderly as they normally were. Someone had brought the bread and grape juice for communion, but couldn't find the trays or the table cloths. The temperature was a bit chilly for the older members. Deacon had always adjusted the temperature so the sanctuary and classrooms were comfortable before people arrived. And despite the smiles and handshakes from the other greeters, it just wasn't the same not seeing Deacon there to hand out bulletins and inquire how one's week had been.
Children too missed Deacon. He'd always kept Life Savers candies in his coat pocket for the little ones. Deacon loved kids and knew every child by name. He even kept a small notebook with their birthdays recorded; and on their birthdays, Deacon would give them a dollar along with a Life Savers candy. Sometimes the parents thought that their kids were impolite or ungrateful when they'd run up to Deacon and shove their hand into his coat pocket for a candy and run off without saying "Thank you." Deacon didn't think that way though - he was honored that they trusted him and were comfortable around him.
It's common practice in most churches that deacons are nominated and approved to serve for a specific periof of time. Although Deacon wasn't a member of the current deacon board, he continued his duties as though he were. Deacon didn't know how not to stay busy, and people were so accustomed to seeing him out front every Sunday that he was considered honorary deacon for life. It's how he got his nickname.
Although his absence was noticed and felt by most, few members of the church really knew Deacon that well. The pastor knew him best; as did T.T. You see, both T.T. and Deacon shared the same personality - funny, but shy. They are wall-flowers at social events. They are always invited, but they tend to stay off at the side and talk to only one or two people they know best. Deacon and T.T. shared the same political and social opinions, even if T.T. was the more vocal of the two. Neither is comfortable letting others do for them; nor were they too comfortable simply sitting in a worship service as an observer. More often than not, T.T. and Deacon would stand outside and talk while the sermon was being delivered.
That's when I was able to attend church too, even if I didn't go inside. T.T. takes me everywhere - that's the deal we have. So it was nothing for me to sit between the two of them as they talked about the incompetence of the government, the sad state of affairs in the White House, and their worry over the world their kids and grandkids would inherit; or they'd talk about some member of the church who needed some sort of help with a harvest or a power bill. Deacon would scratch behind my ears and run his age-spotted hands over my coat. He usually had a biscuit in his other coat pocket for me if he knew I was coming that Sunday.
Deacon only had one suit. He took as good care of it as possible, brushing it every Sunday before putting it on, and occasionally having it dry cleaned when he had the extra money. Deacon never spent much money on himself. His first priority was his kids, whom he never stopped worrying about. As far as Deacon was concerned, if his kids didn't have to make the mistakes he'd made, he would consider himself a good father. I never once heard him ask anyone for anything, but I saw the joy he received in giving what little he had.
Last Sunday, the pastor and the church decided that Deacon deserved more than one memorial service. Members brought food and instruments and the whole day was spent eating, singing and simply being together. Deacon's children, none of whom attended their dad's church, were invited. I think that his family learned something about their dad that they didn't realize when he was alive. To them, he was a loving and gentle, if opinionated man; a good father, if not successful in the things that success is measured today. As person after person got up and shared their stories about Deacon, both family and friends discovered that here was a man whose character and loyalty and wit had touched lives in many small but significant ways. The day was spent in celebration of Deacon's life and in community with one another.
Papa stopped by to see me on Monday. He asked me how T.T. was doing - not that He couldn't know, but because He delights in choosing not to know everything just because He can. Papa loves to share the joy of His children, just as He's willing to experience their sorrow - because He cares about the same things they care about. "If anything matters, everything matters." is something God likes to remind us.
I told Papa that T.T. was still sad about the hole that Deacon's passing had left in his heart; and in mine. Papa gave me a squeeze and assured me that Deacon was just fine. "He's still a wall-flower, even in Heaven, Bubba." Papa explained. "It's as though he's still not convinced that he deserves to be with Me. Jesus explained to Deacon that it was our love for him that made him welcome into our family, but Deacon's still processing all that's been done for him."
Papa went on to say, "Part of Deacon's reticence to let himself go and be free to explore the heavens like he wants to, is that right after he arrived, he ran into a couple of liberals he recognized from television. Deacon never expected to see a liberal in Heaven, so now he has to rethink his old opinions. For Deacon, the distinction between liberals and conservatives is as far apart as East is from West. If one is right, the other has to be wrong. But there they are in the same place, so which one is wrong - or are they both?" "Believe me," Papa said, leaning in closer to me and with a grin said, "they were more surprised than Deacon to find themselves among the distinct minority in Heaven."
"Deacon doesn't realize it yet, but Heaven is far bigger than social thought or about theology or eschatology or other human ideas. It's about discovering My mind and My heart for my creations. Deacon's destiny is to explore new worlds, just as I whispered to him in his mother's womb." I asked Papa about T.T.'s destiny, but He shook his head and told me it's not for me to know. "T.T. walks a similar path to that of Deacon, but every destiny is different as every person is different." I must have looked worried because Papa quickly reassured me that "You'll see them both again, Bubba. Trust me."
I wanted to ask if there's a Bojangles in Heaven, but didn't want to appear too 'worldly' to Papa. If there is, I'm sure that Deacon will have a biscuit for me next time I see him.
The memorial service was on Friday. Sunday morning the weather was cloudy and misty. The pastor arrived early, as was his custom, to pray and review his sermon notes. He reached behind his seat for his umbrella and made a mental note to ask the greeters to move the umbrella stand just outside the church doors for the congregation to deposit their umbrellas before entering the sanctuary. This made him think of Deacon. Who would take his place escorting some of the older ladies from their cars under his umbrella this morning? Deacon had performed this task for years. When other greeters simply stood at the top of the steps to shake hands and open the church doors for worshipers, Deacon went out in the weather to make sure the older folk had some cover from the wind and rain.
As he exited his car and looked around the church grounds, the pastor noticed the beer cans and paper sacks tossed outside by passing motorists. Deacon had always picked up the trash in front of the church before anyone arrived and complained. He would have to get someone to handle this task as well, though few would want to risk getting their hands and suits dirty. "I'm sure going to miss Deacon." the pastor muttered softly.
The pastor wasn't the only one who noticed things weren't as neat and orderly as they normally were. Someone had brought the bread and grape juice for communion, but couldn't find the trays or the table cloths. The temperature was a bit chilly for the older members. Deacon had always adjusted the temperature so the sanctuary and classrooms were comfortable before people arrived. And despite the smiles and handshakes from the other greeters, it just wasn't the same not seeing Deacon there to hand out bulletins and inquire how one's week had been.
Children too missed Deacon. He'd always kept Life Savers candies in his coat pocket for the little ones. Deacon loved kids and knew every child by name. He even kept a small notebook with their birthdays recorded; and on their birthdays, Deacon would give them a dollar along with a Life Savers candy. Sometimes the parents thought that their kids were impolite or ungrateful when they'd run up to Deacon and shove their hand into his coat pocket for a candy and run off without saying "Thank you." Deacon didn't think that way though - he was honored that they trusted him and were comfortable around him.
It's common practice in most churches that deacons are nominated and approved to serve for a specific periof of time. Although Deacon wasn't a member of the current deacon board, he continued his duties as though he were. Deacon didn't know how not to stay busy, and people were so accustomed to seeing him out front every Sunday that he was considered honorary deacon for life. It's how he got his nickname.
Although his absence was noticed and felt by most, few members of the church really knew Deacon that well. The pastor knew him best; as did T.T. You see, both T.T. and Deacon shared the same personality - funny, but shy. They are wall-flowers at social events. They are always invited, but they tend to stay off at the side and talk to only one or two people they know best. Deacon and T.T. shared the same political and social opinions, even if T.T. was the more vocal of the two. Neither is comfortable letting others do for them; nor were they too comfortable simply sitting in a worship service as an observer. More often than not, T.T. and Deacon would stand outside and talk while the sermon was being delivered.
That's when I was able to attend church too, even if I didn't go inside. T.T. takes me everywhere - that's the deal we have. So it was nothing for me to sit between the two of them as they talked about the incompetence of the government, the sad state of affairs in the White House, and their worry over the world their kids and grandkids would inherit; or they'd talk about some member of the church who needed some sort of help with a harvest or a power bill. Deacon would scratch behind my ears and run his age-spotted hands over my coat. He usually had a biscuit in his other coat pocket for me if he knew I was coming that Sunday.
Deacon only had one suit. He took as good care of it as possible, brushing it every Sunday before putting it on, and occasionally having it dry cleaned when he had the extra money. Deacon never spent much money on himself. His first priority was his kids, whom he never stopped worrying about. As far as Deacon was concerned, if his kids didn't have to make the mistakes he'd made, he would consider himself a good father. I never once heard him ask anyone for anything, but I saw the joy he received in giving what little he had.
Last Sunday, the pastor and the church decided that Deacon deserved more than one memorial service. Members brought food and instruments and the whole day was spent eating, singing and simply being together. Deacon's children, none of whom attended their dad's church, were invited. I think that his family learned something about their dad that they didn't realize when he was alive. To them, he was a loving and gentle, if opinionated man; a good father, if not successful in the things that success is measured today. As person after person got up and shared their stories about Deacon, both family and friends discovered that here was a man whose character and loyalty and wit had touched lives in many small but significant ways. The day was spent in celebration of Deacon's life and in community with one another.
Papa stopped by to see me on Monday. He asked me how T.T. was doing - not that He couldn't know, but because He delights in choosing not to know everything just because He can. Papa loves to share the joy of His children, just as He's willing to experience their sorrow - because He cares about the same things they care about. "If anything matters, everything matters." is something God likes to remind us.
I told Papa that T.T. was still sad about the hole that Deacon's passing had left in his heart; and in mine. Papa gave me a squeeze and assured me that Deacon was just fine. "He's still a wall-flower, even in Heaven, Bubba." Papa explained. "It's as though he's still not convinced that he deserves to be with Me. Jesus explained to Deacon that it was our love for him that made him welcome into our family, but Deacon's still processing all that's been done for him."
Papa went on to say, "Part of Deacon's reticence to let himself go and be free to explore the heavens like he wants to, is that right after he arrived, he ran into a couple of liberals he recognized from television. Deacon never expected to see a liberal in Heaven, so now he has to rethink his old opinions. For Deacon, the distinction between liberals and conservatives is as far apart as East is from West. If one is right, the other has to be wrong. But there they are in the same place, so which one is wrong - or are they both?" "Believe me," Papa said, leaning in closer to me and with a grin said, "they were more surprised than Deacon to find themselves among the distinct minority in Heaven."
"Deacon doesn't realize it yet, but Heaven is far bigger than social thought or about theology or eschatology or other human ideas. It's about discovering My mind and My heart for my creations. Deacon's destiny is to explore new worlds, just as I whispered to him in his mother's womb." I asked Papa about T.T.'s destiny, but He shook his head and told me it's not for me to know. "T.T. walks a similar path to that of Deacon, but every destiny is different as every person is different." I must have looked worried because Papa quickly reassured me that "You'll see them both again, Bubba. Trust me."
I wanted to ask if there's a Bojangles in Heaven, but didn't want to appear too 'worldly' to Papa. If there is, I'm sure that Deacon will have a biscuit for me next time I see him.
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