Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
It was September 20, 1973, he had just finished a concert in Louisiana, his star was rising, his new single “I Got a Name” was scheduled to hit the radio waves the next day. He would board a plane that night with 5 others. They were headed to the next concert stop in Sherman, Texas. Jim Croce had also written and recorded a yet to be released song called “Time in a Bottle.” The lyrics were poetic, philosophical and unfortunately prophetic.
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I’d like to do
Is to save every day
‘Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with youIf I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I’d save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you
Jim Croce would not live long enough to hear those beautiful lyrics on the radio. He would perish on that September night 52 years ago as their chartered plane crashed shortly after take-off. Jim Croce was 30 years old. “Time in a Bottle” would become a posthumous hit even as it reminded its listeners that time cannot be saved in a bottle.
It was 14 years ago, and it was yesterday. In July of 2011 my mother died suddenly in her sleep. She was not old by modern standards, but her quality of life was greatly diminished. She lived in as assisted living facility in the town where she and I were born. She had lived a good life, she was a good person, a retired educator, she left a mark in our hometown. Our family flew quickly to Chicago, we were picked up and dropped off at the Anderson Funeral Home in DeKalb, Illinois. It was a pleasant Sunday evening. The community gathered for a visitation. For three hours neighbors, church members, high school classmates and friends processed by an open casket offering condolences to grieving family members.
My best childhood friend Jimmy Vaughn stopped to pay his respect. Jimmy was an iron worker; his father Red was an iron worker too. They were both tough as nails. Jimmy spent time with all of us and took great delight in my daughters. “Jim your girls are beautiful, sure glad that they took after Felicia.” I walked Jimmy to his truck, he was sorry that he could not attend the funeral the next day, but he had another skyscraper to build in Chicago. We embraced in the parking lot. As I walked back toward the funeral home he called to me, “Friends for life!” I responded, “Friends for life.”
The funeral at First Lutheran Church was followed by a graveside committal at Fairview Cemetery. There my mother was laid to rest next to my father and my four grandparents. We returned to the church fellowship hall for a luncheon of ham, potatoes, Jello salad and cookies. My cousin Mike approached me across the room, an ashen look on his face, he took my arm and pulled me aside. The words he spoke cut to my heart. “Jimmy Vaughn is dead. He fell from the worksite a little over an hour ago.” Felicia and I went to his home, waiting there to break the heartbreaking news to a new widow. Three days later I officiated at Jimmy Vaughn’s funeral less than half a mile from our childhood homes. He was 52 years old. It was 14 years ago, and it was yesterday.
We cannot save time in a bottle. We do not know what tomorrow will hold for us. Let’s live and love today! Let’s speak the tender words that our loved ones long to hear.
“Yet you do not even know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” James 4:14
One beggar, telling another beggar where to find bread, I am your,
Pastor Jim
PS: If you would like to respond directly to Pastor Jim, please email rvlindus@whidbey.com.
