Page 72 of Of Literature and Lattes
“He’s not coming. He doesn’t get it, Seth.”
“Who doesn’t get what?” Seth followed her gaze, catching on that she was speaking of Jeremy.
He’d caught the younger man out running errands with his daughter the afternoon before. “I’m not planning on going to the funeral,” he had said. “I’ll be in the way. George doesn’t know me. I’ll express my condolences next time he comes into the shop.”
“That’s not good enough.” Seth’s tone had surprised them both. He softened it. “I can’t tell you how much the men in our group have shown up for me in the past few years, and they’ll be there for you. Tomorrow is part of that.”
Jeremy had protested again, so Seth left him with one final thought. “You’re either in or you’re out, no matter how many times you make the meetings. Janet and I will save you a seat.”
Janet squeezed his hand. “He doesn’t understand that he needs us, all of us.”
“Give him a few more minutes.”
“I’m not sure how long I can hold out.” She tucked closer. “Saving seats at a funeral is not cool.”
He almost laughed out loud but caught himself just in time. Nevertheless, a hiccup escaped and that earned a quick hard glare from his soon-to-be wife.
As the organ began the first notes of “Be Thou My Vision,” Jeremy slid next to Janet. Seth could feel her melt with relief and turn her focus forward.
Pastor Zach then stood and welcomed everyone. After a few words, he motioned to Bella Williams to begin the first reading.
As she read from Isaiah, Zach looked out into the congregation. In many ways he felt unworthy to officiate Margery’s service. He had only met her twice, both times while visiting her at home after pain and weariness had slowed her speech and thinking. He recognized her peace, however, and it had been a beautiful gift—to him.
That’s what humbled him now. Everyone in this place had known and loved her. Margery had lived in their midst for sixty-some years, and at the end, when he should have offered comfort and guidance to her, she had given them to him. Again Zach felt as if he were taking from his new congregation and not giving, not shepherding them.
As soon as the second reading ended, this one from Colossians, he stood for the Gospel reading and the homily. The family had chosen the Good Samaritan parable from Luke’s Gospel, and he had prepared well. He’d stayed up late into the night making sure he hit all the right notes and could deliver each line with clarity and conviction.
He stepped forward and found his mind blank. He looked down at his notes and felt his fist crumple them without even recognizing that he willed the action. He closed his eyes for a beat and a prayer and then simply spoke without knowing where the next seven minutes would take them.
He talked of neighbors, friends, enemies—for there weren’t many greater enemies than the Jewish people and the Samaritans in the first century. He talked of love, care, and sacrifice. He talked of Margery and the stories people had shared in the past week, the lives she touched and the legacy she left behind. He talked of what he saw within her children and the care that permeated their home. He talked of blessings. He talked of peace.
As he felt himself winding down, he glanced over to Father Luke, who sat fully vested to the right of the altar. He wasn’t alone. The revelation was so clear and hit him so hard Zach looked around, fully expecting the entire congregation to have felt it. He had never experienced a placement or a town in which rectors, priests, and deacons from other parishes came to his church, planned events across denominations, or became good friends, but he had found that community and that home here. And for the first time since he’d arrived at Winsome Presbyterian, Zach paid peace more than lip service; he felt it sink deep within him.
As he stepped away from the lectern, Devon, Margery and George’s fourth child, shook his hand and took his place.
Devon fidgeted with his notes. He didn’t like being a step above everyone. He didn’t like being the center of attention. Keep your head down, your mouth shut, blend in, and get by. Early life had taught him those lessons, and his seventeen years removed from them had only loosened their grip marginally. But it had loosened. And that was why he forced himself to volunteer today and stand up to speak. His mom would’ve been proud. He looked down at his dad. He looked proud too.
Devon cleared his throat. “I asked to talk to you today. No, it was more than that. I practically had to wrestle Michael for the honor.” He paused to let the quiet laughter subside. “I wanted to share some really good things about my mom, but Pastor Zach got me moving a different direction, and those words don’t feel so important anymore.” He swiped at his eyes. “My mom was the gentlest soul, and it’s true, she loved well. She was what she was, and there was no pretense about her. But a loving, gentle soul is made by and through fire. A loving, gentle soul doesn’t get that way because life keeps it all safe and sheltered, up in a box on a shelf. Life isn’t so kind. It’s a gift from God and it’s also a hard-fought choice. Most of you may be shocked to hear this, but Bella, Terrell, and I aren’t our parents’ natural-born children.” A small laugh escaped throughout the church. It had been a running joke with his mom for years and everyone knew it.
“But what will shock you more is that my mom had a childhood a lot like Bella’s, Terrell’s, and mine before she and Dad saved us. She was adopted at nine, and some pretty sad and bad stuff happened before that day. She recognized us when she and Dad chose us. She went in eyes wide open.”
Devon took a deep breath and gripped the sides of the lectern. He noticed how his dark fingers blanched with the pressure. “She and Dad chose us and remade us. And not just us. I expect Michael, Candice, and Lee would say it rocked their worlds too. And stretching further, my parents have ten grandkids here today and three great-grandchildren, and all those lives are different too because of that choice. That one choice, and a million others after it, was the fire that was Mom. You saw the peace. We relied on the strength.
“I guess I just want to say, as we remember all the gentle, kind, and fun things about my mom, including the fact that she couldn’t navigate her way down our driveway, I also want to call to mind her conviction and her endurance, because in defense of the downtrodden, the fallen, the hurt, or the marginalized—in defense of us—our mom was a fighter. We came to trust that and grew safe within her care.
“And Dad...” Devon looked down at his father and held eye contact for a beat. “He’s made of the same good stuff. I love you, Dad.” He then whispered, looking up, “I love you, Mom.”
There wasn’t a dry eye as the service ended with “Amazing Grace” and “Seek Ye First.” Father Luke followed the family out of the nave, then outside the church, marveling over the beauty of the day and of a life well lived. He noticed Janet and Seth walking hand in hand, along with Claire, heading to the parking lot. He briefly looked around, wondering where Chris was, knowing he was somewhere there too. He also wondered if his little brother had proposed to Madeline yet, but pushed the thought away. Chris would have called.
Luke watched as Janet climbed into a car with Claire and left. Seth stood alone. Luke caught up with him and reached out. “Good to see you, Seth.”
“I’m glad you’re here...” Seth pumped his hand as he looked around the parking lot. There was something hesitant in Seth’s look and tone that signaled to Luke that his friend was struggling. “They had quite a marriage.”
Luke nodded. “Over sixty years, I hear. Margery and I spent some time together working on the gardens next to the church, so I got to know her pretty well, including her temper. Devon was right about his mom. When someone tried to deal shady with us a couple years ago, she dressed him down good. Everything said in there was certainly true.”
Seth looked across the emptying parking lot as if pondering something about Margery, about George, about himself. “Janet is scared she’ll mess things up.” He looked back to Luke. “But I am too. I was so absorbed in my career, in what I was doing, I took her for granted. I stopped seeing my wife. How do I know I’ve changed enough? That I can be who she needs now?”
Luke said a quick prayer for guidance and then gave Seth his straight-up answer. “You’ll never have certainty and you will mess up. We’re human. It’s what we do.” He paused to let his words sink in. Seth stared at him. “But there is also grace, and you and Janet know about grace. So I suggest you pray. Every day. And you keep coming to that men’s group and have the courage to share and talk. You’ve got good friends who have been there for you, and that doesn’t change when things go well, as I hope they will for you two. In fact, I believe we need our friends, their support and grounding influence, more when things do go well. It’s in those times pride can set us up for a good toppling. A man doesn’t take his wife for granted in the trenches, only in the towers.”
