Today’s Word from Pastor Tom Kidd…
He died January 13. Uncle Norman’s death was the penultimate death of his generation. Only Auntie Corrine is left. Mom (Bergit) was the oldest, then Signe, followed by Corinne and then baby Darlene. Darlene was married to Norman who preceded her in death. Except for Corrine, they and their spouses are all gone. Last Saturday the family, along with Nativity Pastor, Heidi Calhoun (great job Pastor), hosted the Jetson version of a church memorial service as we all “Zoomed!”
Whoop! Whoop!
Where’s the macaroni salad? Where’s the green Jell-o? And the green bean casserole? How can you do a Lutheran memorial service without a potluck and stories shared in the church basement? Oh, that’s right… Trinity Lutheran doesn’t have a church basement. But you get the idea. Anyway, we had what I would believe to be a meaningful service and afterward 30 of us stayed online and offered a toast to a life well lived. Uncle Norman was the last of the men who married into this family.
Grandpa Nels and Grandma Ida had seven children live to adulthood; four of them girls. OMG these were four of the most fun, most playful Norwegian divas you could imagine and when they got together it was potato salad and laughter enough to shake off a pandemic. Corrine is the only one left and we told her she cannot die. We couldn’t handle it. Modeling the best of the family humor she did give us permission to prop her up in the corner if and when such an event would take place. The family is praying for Jesus’ second coming to arrive first.
Anyway, I think these women took in husbands like some might take in a rescue dog. You know, they were okay, and with 10-15 years of grooming they weren’t without hope. These guys were allowed to bark all they wanted right to the end of their chain. Right up until their beautiful brides spoke up. Norman was the last. He was really a good guy. Darlene was the photographer in the family (I married her successor). Some authorities carry a weapon as sign of their authority; Darlene carried her Instamatic camera. No event was without merit to memorialize.
One story, just for memory sake:
Norman was charged with the task of taking the family photo for whatever the heck event we were gathered for. “I can’t see you; you look fuzzy!” protested my dear Uncle Norman. Finally, in exasperation my sweet little Auntie Darlene shouted, “Norman, take the damn picture!” To which Norman dutifully clicked the camera with the flash bulb pointed in his eye. The rest is a blur of family crumpled on the floor laughing while trying to maintain control of their bladders, all the while Norman is flailing around the living room doing a really fine Monty Python impersonation while knocking over lamps crying out, “I can’t see, I’m blinded.” You can’t make this stuff up.
And now Norman is gone. Stormin’ Norman was a good man. He loved his family, he loved his church (“I was a charter member, you know!”), and he was a faithful friend to ever so many.
Besides providing me with a moment of joy in the telling, there is a greater point to my sharing the before-mentioned. Actually, two points. The first is to remember, everyone’s story is holy ground. We need a spirit of reverence when listening to someone’s story. God has sanctified our lives and as such commands us to listen with a sense of humility, for everyone has made it by God’s grace.
Secondly, we were created to frolic, to play. Life has again become deadly serious and too often we live as if we have forgotten that spirit of free play that is inherent in the garden scene in the Genesis Creation Story. Laughter is healing. So, I share a bit of my family story to remind us all to maybe frolic just a bit more, do not be so afraid of being silly and maybe, just maybe, picture Jesus saying to Peter, “Peter, just take the damn picture.” Thanks Norman.
Gratefully, Pastor Tom
