Blow for Blow

This post is long overdue.

RW and I lived in the same city my entire childhood. So we shared some of the common events of life. Much of the family had to settle for a handful of gathering times through the year--Christmas, Summer, and maybe an extra weekend visit.

One thing that Papaw and I connected on every year was college football. To be more specific, he bled crimson, I bleed orange and blue.

It has been noted that RW was competitive. I mention it as an underscore. He was fiercely competitive. I have a little of that in me too. I can remember testing my "horns" of competition on him when I was young. He put me in my place and didn't comfort me. I learned early that you can be tender with Papaw and you can compete with RW, but the two probably will never happen in the same moment.

So every fall, we would both start strutting and snorting. The animal instincts were taking over. And every year it would culminate at a climactic battle to claim the mountain top. The Iron Bowl. His colors verse mine. And from that day until the next year, both of us will know our place.

1985. This is probably my earliest memory of devastating defeat. I was young. So young that the memory is cloudy. I remember sitting on my knees directly in front of the TV. RW sat to my left on the couch in his basement. The tension was thick, at least for my 7 year old soul. I remember feeling like I couldn't take my eyes off him. We must have already been yelling and rubbing it in as each of our teams scored. I remember feeling that competitive distrust as I kept my horns between me and him.
Then at the last second, Alabama kicked a field goal, to win the game.
I remember a deep hurt and sadness. And my foe, who was also my hero, romped and stomped all over his basement. He slapped my back a hundred times. I'm sure I cried. I don't know how I could have not cried. He was merciless. It didn't matter that I had him pinned and on the throwes of defeat only moments before. He had wriggled out and defeated me. And he was loudly declaring victory. I remember various postures of defeat...slumped head and shoulders, knees on the floor and head on the couch hidden by my arms. He was no idiot. He saw my brokenness yet he still celebrated. He was a warrior. And I was a baby warrior.

That memory no longer brings me pain. Probably because I exacted my revenge several different years since then. It was a give and take, tit for tat, blow for blow competitive relationship. I cherish it.

This year I watched our Iron Bowl without the Old Bull around. Sure there are others to fight with, but none that have earned my fear and my respect like him. My team played like I felt, heartless. We were crushed 36-0. I wince at the thought of what beating I would have received AFTER the game. And the following year. RW would have instantly forgotten the 6 previous years of my reign. He would have brashly declared that the rightful king has reclaimed his throne. I love that man, but I hated losing to him. I'd like to think that he has drawn more of my blood than any other in my life. I'd also like to think that I bruised him more than most.

Christmas Memories

This Christmas season I have thought a lot about those amazing Christmases in Memaw and PawPaws basement. I remember seeing what felt like 500 presents spanning from wall to wall! And I remember thanking them both after opening and PawPaw never knowing what exactly we got. I also remember him getting very excited about finding Andes mints in his stocking and passing them around for all to see! I remember his whoops and yelps and his tickles that HURT!!! (almost as much as the back slaps). I wish this year I could go back to being little and to sit in my Pawpaws lap again and have him tickle me so bad it hurts. To ask me when I was ever gonna like hugging ,and ask me what am I gonna do when I am older and my husband wants a hug. For him to ask me what exactly was that christmas present they gave me? I don't have any particular memories with only me and Pawpaw...but do any of you have any special christmas memories with him? 

I think one thing that has brought these memories on is seeing  Dustin Hoffman out there promoting his new movie. I have always thought that Pawpaw looked like Dustin...and seeing him on tv so much lately makes me think of my Pawpy. 

Hope you guys have a Merry Christmas!!!

Fall reminds me of RW

Every day as I drive around and see the beautiful colors I am reminded of Dad. I don't know anyone who loved nature like he did. He loved the fall leaves. He and mom often took trips to "see the leaves". Wonder if the leaves change in heaven.

There was one day when Dad came to my office and got me and said, come with me, I want to show you something. We drove a few miles away to the top of a hill where the most glorious tree was brilliant with color. It was literally glowing. It was such a display of God's awesome creation. Occasionally I pass that same tree now and it reminds me of my Dad. In fact everytime I see a magnificent colorful tree I remember my Dad.

Today I was pointing out beautiful trees to my grandson, Josiah. I hope he inherits this love of the turning of leaves and I hope he remembers how much MiMi loved the fall colors.

The tribe of Ralph Woerner

A new chapter is being written in the tribe of Ralph Woerner. As we accept the mantle that has been passed we have come together for a weekend of prayer and worship and family vision. It has been far better than anything I could imagine. I am in awe of how God is directing us and uniting us. He has definitely redeemed us in so many ways. Where we are as a family is only explained as a work of God. I am so excited to see where God will lead us and how he will allow us to partner with him. "His gift to us". What a priviledge. For those who are not able to be with us this weekend, we are praying for you also. God is doing something big in this family. I'm full of thankfulness and praise to our Lord, our redeemer. Thank you Dad for what you began in this family. God is continuing that work.

just one more

I've been thinking about RW a lot lately. Not really focused on anything in particular. Just thinking about him. Just looking at the finger print he left on my life. I find myself wandering back to this blog, or looking at pictures, or listening to the song we played at his funeral.
Just one more. Like when you reach for that one more piece of watermelon, when you shoulda stopped 3 pieces ago. Like when you tell yourself I'll just put one more cricket on the hook and drop it in one more time to see if I can get one more fish.
I'm not sure if I'm looking for anything in particular. Just wanting to hear his story again. One more time.

Father's Day

We are one week from Father's Day. I'm curious to hear from Ralph's girls. What is one of your favorite memories of RW as a daddy? What was a special moment when he touched your heart?

Let's go eat!

No doubt about it, RW loved to eat. Only a fool would step between that man and his plate. Of course, he wouldn't allow you to, because he ate with his face 4 inches from the plate.

My question is, what did he love to eat?
What are several things that you remember that Papaw loved to eat?
What was his favorite of all?

Famous Words

I would describe Papaw as a man who taught by his example not so much by his words of instruction. Obviously I'm not talking about scripture related teachings because he was stellar at using his words to teach God's ways. I'm talking more about life's lessons, principles, and unspoken laws of success. Example: I don't remember him specifically teaching me how to work hard with his words. He would just show me how to work hard by raking leaves like a crazy man.
So I find that I have learned more from Papaw by watching him, than by listening to him.
I'm curious, can you remember specific sayings, or lessons, or clear instruction from Papaw? Did he have some golden nuggets of success that he shared with you? What were some of the famous words that Papaw lived by, and also shared with you?

A few things

1) I always thought Sniff Sniff looked like Pawpaw. Also, I can't remember what sniff sniff would talk to us about. Can anybody help?

2) Once at Meems and Pepaws house, they were talking to me about when I was a little girl. Pawpaw was just sitting there staring at me and he suddenly says "You know, when you were little, I thought you were a retard child". I threw my pillow at him and said "PAWPAW!!!!" And he started laughing and said "Well, we couldn't get you to say anything. I thought you were retarded until one day you talked". NICE!!!

3) Richard- thanks for making this blog!! I didn't think Pawpaws death would effect me as greatly as it has. I have loved checking this blog numerous times a day. It's great to read what other people thought of him, remember stories, and just still have part of Pawpaw to take with me every day.

4) I GRADUATED!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wouldnt even have started college if Pawpaw hadn't given me money to pay for it, so thanks Pawpaw!!!!!!1

RW needed nature

I've been thinking about how RW loved nature. Looking back at some of my memories, I wonder if it was something deeper for him. If maybe nature was some kind of therapy for his intense life.

Most years on an afternoon during the fall he would take me driving around looking at leaves. I don't think he had any clue where he wanted to end up. He just kept following the pretty colors. Inevitably it would get too distracting and he'd pull the car over and we'd walk through the woods.

He is the only person I can remember teaching me about the different kind of birds. For my 12th birthday, he bought me a bird book to help me identify them. He often would walk outside the shop with me and we would play with the Killdeer.

I've watched him plant many a tomato and pepper plant.

In the deep part of summer, he could sit and listen to the Cicadas for hours.

Nature seemed to be Papaw's music. It seemed to do something for him. He acted like it was more than just enjoyment. He seemed to need it.

What was he thinking?

Before PawPaw's stroke, there was one question that we never had to wonder about - "what was PawPaw thinking?"  There was no mystery- he'd let ya know flat out what he was thinking and what his opinion was about a particular subject, even if it hurt your feelings a tad.  

In my adult years, I have really come to appreciate that quality in people.  I like to know that when I leave the conversation- the air is clear and everything was said.  I am glad PawPaw spoke his mind and gave us an opportunity to speak ours as well.  

I remember one time, in high school, I was really disappointed with a decision PawPaw made.  I decided to write him a letter and express my disappointment to him.  I had no idea how he would respond, all I knew was that in our relationship, he had given me enough confidence to speak my mind- even when I was expressing disagreement or hurt.  It wasn't long at all, when a letter arrived in our mailbox in response to mine.  I have to be honest and admit, it wasn't quite the response I was looking for.  I thought for sure he'd take my side :), but it was clear that he didn't.  I remember I shed a few tears as my pride was wounded and I was hurt, but the situation turned out so much better than I could have anticipated at that time and perhaps PawPaw had enough wisdom to see further into the future than I could with my selfish little high school brain.  

After PawPaw's strokes, one of the hardest things for me was how quiet PawPaw became.  The fierce communicator who spoke his mind to anyone, had become quiet and reserved.  No longer did I know what was churning in that mind of his- and that made me sad.

The most vivid memory I have of this was the summer I went to Mongolia.  The summer before my Senior year of college, I spent almost 6 weeks in Mongolia.  It was an INCREDIBLE time but boy was I glad to be returning home after being so far apart from family, with limited communication at times.  I had quite a long layover in Los Angeles before my last leg of the journey to B'ham.  I was sitting on my carry on, soon after deboarding the plane trying to get in touch with my mom to let her know that I had made it to L.A. when all of a sudden I heard a "SOMEBODY SHOUT HALLELUJAH!"  I looked up and was absolutely stunned to see my dad walking toward me!  I just burst into tears and couldn't even speak.  I hadn't been in America more than 1 hour when I was wrapped in the loving arms of my dad.  He had used his sky miles to fly out to L.A. just to meet me at the airport and fly back with me.  We had an overnight flight and were scheduled to arrive in Bham early the next morning.  My mom and Memaw planned to have a breakfast at Memaw and Pawpaw's on the way home from the airport and all the family that was in town at the time came.  It was an awesome reception and they wanted to hear about what I thought when I saw my dad show up at the L.A. airport. 

 As I was telling the story, I looked down to the head of the table at my precious PawPaw, and there were tears streaming down his face.  In that moment, I was overwhelmed with an intense feeling of love for him-  I will NEVER forget that moment for as long as I live.  Although he spoke no words- the tears I saw communicated a million things to me.  I felt like I saw a glimpse of his heart- his sweet, tender, loving, compassionate, family- oriented heart. Although I will never know for sure what he was thinking- I like to imagine I know and it makes me love my Pawpaw even more.

Rugs

Leslie's story:
We all know Pawpaw as one who wasn't one to hang around after the meal was over. He and Memaw would sit for a little while on the couch as if they were going to stay and visit. However it wouldn't be long until he was walking out the door. One time after Joe and Sharon remodeled the downstairs of there house we were all over there for lunch. Pawpaw commented on how it looked nice, he liked the new wood floors that they put in and he especially enjoyed the rugs. No one thought much of it until after lunch. Memaw and Pawpaw were sitting on the couch as usual and we were all visiting. 10, 15, 20 minutes pass by, maybe more, when we realized Pawpaw was still sitting on the couch. I remember Sharon ribbing him a little about how surprising it was that he was still there and not acting antsy to leave. However I don't remember if someone asked him point blank why he was comfortable enough to stay so long but somehow it came out that, "Well, I just like the rug I guess. It looks nice." Of course we all laughed and assumed he just felt like it made it more homey? Does that mean that if every place felt that homey then he would stay longer? Who knows but it sure was funny!

One Leg Up

Remember how Pawpaw used to sit in his recliner? He always had one leg up and over the arm of the chair just dangling there as he relaxed. I can still see him sitting like that in there house in B'ham when rooster was alive and well. We'd watch rooster walk all over Pawpaw's belly up to his shoulder over to his leg and back around again. One leg up.

My PawPaw was fearless

I love this story about PawPaw and Nate:

When Nate was in his senior year of college, My mom was just getting going with her Real Estate business.  At the time she was buying foreclosed homes and renovating them.  She had a lot of work to be done, so Nate decided to travel to B'ham for two weeks and work for her.  

PawPaw, who was quite restless those days as he had transitioned out of Promise and wasn't quite sure how to fill his time, was also anxious to help mom in her new business venture.  He was glad to get out of the house and fill his time with manual labor.  The type of manual labor required for fixing up these homes was probably a little more than the average early-70 year old man should be tackling- but we all know, PawPaw was anything but average.

Nate found himself on one of those blazing hot Alabama- summer days, on top of a roof with PawPaw cleaning out the gutters.  One thing you must know about Nate, is that he is deathly afraid of heights.  Once he is on the roof, he is fine, but it's the climbing up and down the ladders that completely freaks him out.  The particular ladder that was being used that day had Nathan pretty concerned as it was already a little janky looking and wasn't resting on even ground. When the job was complete and it was time to return to the safety of the ground, Nathan found himself frozen, staring at the ladder.  He paused just long enough for PawPaw to shove him out of the way, mutter a "come on boy" and start to make his way down the ladder first.  When PawPaw got to the bottom, he held the ladder for Nate :)  

Army Boots

Dad threatened to buy me army boots once. We didn't have much money and I wore my shoes out so fast. He had a big job, providing for 5 growing kids on a preacher's salary.

One time he was filling out taxes and was putting down our names. He asked me what my middle name was. He wasn't given to details. (I got that trait).

Another Life Affected

Comments from my friend Pam Thrasher.

I can't tell you what he meant in my life, but I think you know. I base my entire spiritual heritage on what I learned from him in my growing up years. God truly led your family to Westside and gave us all something most people never experience in their entire life.

I am just so grateful to have had your dad be such an important part of my life. I lost my Bible while on a mission trip to France in Feb. Randy gave it to me when I was 16 and so many of the notes were things I had written that your dad said. I was so devastated to have lost my precious bible and also the things that were written that can never be replaced. Have you ever thought of making copies of some of his sermons? I would love to have that if you ever do.

So Many Memories

I will forever be grateful for having spent time with Dad this past February. He was doing remarkably well during this time and Sharon, Elaine and I enjoyed so much talking with him and seeing him feeling better. We had a great time at Fish & Chicks and he loved those hush puppies and fried pickles! It was such a pleasure to see him enjoying life again. It's a final memory I will always cherish!



Other memories I have run deep and date way back. I want to share a few:



The Scholar
What I remember most about Dad was seeing him sitting in his recliner reading, night after night, hour after hour, with a pencil in his hand, circling and underscoring the important words and phrases and writing illegible comments on the side. This made such an impact on me and birthed my own desire for study. To this day, it is impossible for me to read a book without a pencil in hand, circling, underscoring, and writing illegible comments on the side....



Kids for Christ
Friday nights were the most fun as an adolescent. Dad had started "Kids for Christ" and about 70 kids would pile into the church bus for a night of skating at the skating rink. How proud I was to see my Dad out there in the middle skating with all the kids. Forwards, backwards, and smooth turn arounds, looking so confident! I wanted to be just like him and have to say I haven't lost my moves!

Cleaning the Church
There were no spend-the-night parties for me on the weekends; I had to get up on Saturday mornings with my two sisters Sharon and Kinsey and clean the church. My job was to straighten the hymnals, dust the piano & organ, vacuum betwen the pews, wipe down the chalkboards, and clean the toilets. Sharon and Kinsey got to do things like buff and mop the floors. We got into a lot of mop fights and Dad would have to come out of his study to break things up. As we got older, I was left to clean the church on my own and earned $25 each Saturday. It was quiet and there were no sisters to fight with. But I remember loud noises coming out of Dad's office, and it was him praying out loud as he paced the floors in his office. What an impression that left on me!

Picking Muscadines
I don't remember where we went...some woody area some distance away from home. It wasn't blackberries....they were round grape like things that had a sour taste and we Dad and I picked them by the bucket fulls. Not sure who ate them when all was said and done....

The Messenger
It all started when I was about 12 years old. I would ride my bike down the street to some hole in the wall stip mall area and help Dad out scrubbing plates until late in the evening. Printing plates that is. My arms were tired and my clotes were sopped with black ink and water. At the end of the night, Dad would throw my bike in the back of his truck and we would drive home. It felt good to work so hard.

Once printed, Kinsey, Harold, and I would have to hand deliver the Messenger to the homes in the area. We got paid a penny or two for each one we delivered. To make things easier, I dumped a couple of hundred in the bushes. Saved me some time and maximized my profits.
Thank God Dad started mailing the papers out after that and the message indeed got out!

The Preacher with the Big Nose
Dad would sometimes come to my christian school and preach at chapel time. Not everyone knew he was my dad. One day at lunch a kid said excitedly, "Did you see the nose on that preacher?!?" "Yes," I replied. "He is my Dad." :)

Oneonta
Before computers, email, or even word processors, I spent one summer of my high school years typing individual letters Dad wanted to get out to churches to market the messenger. I would sit for hours on end typing letter after letter. If I made a mistake, I would have to rip the whole thing out and start over. I became a pretty good typist that year....

What I Learned

• It was the Woerner work ethic that became so deeply ingrained in me from as early as I can remember. I am proud I learned not to be afraid of hard work.
• To study to show myself approved....Dad was a fine example of this. I cherish the Pulpit Commentaries I have from his years as a pastor, with all of his circles and underscores and illegible side notes. Watching my Dad has given me a thirst for knowledge and study. Just give me a pencil and a book and I will be perfectly content!
• Compassion. Dad showered this on others and it left an indelible mark on my own heart. Dad had such a unique way of connecting with others. He showed such interest in them and made them feel so special. EVERYONE loved Dad and I adored him as well. I am so proud to have been his daughter!

What I Gained

Everything. Life, hope, love...new beginnings. Dad believed in me when there wasn't much to believe in. He sent me to college more than once, paid for me to earn two graduate degrees, out of state tuition, rent, daycare, and much more. Gave me a couple of cars. Helped me buy a house. Helped me get into business. Dad gave and gave to me and inspired me to be all that I can be. He spent countless hours talking ove rth eissues of life with me and helping me sort through so many things. He was my strength, my foundaton. I love him for that! Losing him has taken my breath away. It's like the rug was pulled out from under me and I'm trying to find soem solid ground. But as many others have already expressed, I too am inspired to carry on his legacy, in honor of him, in honor of what God has done through him. I too want to live life with passion and purpose and carry out God's calling on my life with complete devotion, committment, and unwavering faith. Dad, thank you for being the man that you were. You live on inside of me! I love you!!!

Pamela

He Grunted

I was thinking today about the second to last time I was in Elberta. Paw Paw was just getting sick again. We had taken him to the doctor and as we sat in there waiting I took it upon myself to be the comic relief. I started playing with the doctors scopes and then me and mom were looking in each others ears. It was funny. I remember how tired paw paw was. He was hurting and exhausted and I just rubbed his hair and he grunted. He grunted his usual grunt he does when he is satisfied. I think it was his way of purring!
The last time I was there he was really sick. We had to call an ambulance the night before and I just wanted to help him so bad, but there was nothing I could do. That was his final ride to the hospital. I remember going to see him the next day. I took Libby and Elijah to see him and he was sitting in a chair about to eat. He yelled hey at us with all the strength he could muster. It was amazing that as bad as he felt he was still so happy to see his family. As he got settled in his bed and the nurse came to change him we left the room and me and mom and kids went down the hall.
Mom told me she would watch the kids and I could go talk to him. I knew she meant to say my goodbyes. I had rehearsed it so many times in my head what I would say. On the way back to the room I got really emotional and was really fighting to keep it under control. As I walked into the room I saw him lying there with his eyes shut and I sat beside him and held his hand and there was no response. I desperately wanted him to squeeze my hand back and let me know he knew I was there. He just laid there silently, breathing deeply. Even when he was sick he was so handsome. I was watching him breath and thinking of all that he meant to me and I started crying and I knew that I needed to make my exit. I got up and walked around the bed and rubbed his head and bent down and whispered in his ear, "I love you". And He grunted!
It was all I needed. Jesus knew what I needed and he allowed me to have one more grunt. That has got to be one of my favorite noises in all the world!
Thank you Jesus for one last grunt.

Note

I received another email today from a friend who used to work at Promise Network. I thought it was very sweet and worth passing on.

"It was so sad to see your grandfather’s obituary in the paper last week. I kept an eye on the websites because I knew someone would post something. I loved what you wrote about Mr. Woerner on the Answer site. Unfortunately, I only met him a few times during my time at PN but I know what he meant to the company and everyone who had been fortunate enough to know him. Every story I ever heard about him was about him giving and doing -- for strangers or people he barely knew. I could not even imagine the love he had for his family and the wonderful memories you will cherish always. Of course, I had to visit the blog you shared in your tribute. What a great way to let everyone get to know the man that you and his family knew. You and your family were so blessed to have him as your Paw Paw. My sympathies go out to your family and I am keeping everyone in my thoughts and prayers."

My Final Tribute

These were the words I spoke at the memorial service.

My memaw tells me a story of when I was a little girl. She says that they had a picture of paw paw hanging in their house and I would just stare at it. After staring at it for quite some time, I would, with great adoration in my voice say "Paw Paw".
He was my paw paw. I still feel that same adoration and awe for him today.
If you asked me who I was to Ralph Woerner, I wouldn't say "His granddaughter", because the truth is I was much more than that. No instead I would say "I am the apple of his eye". That is what paw paw called his granddaughters as we sat in his lap.
I love being the apple of his eye. His delight. Paw Paw didn't have granddaughters, he had princesses. and just as any good king would do, he trained us what royalty was all about. It is much more that pretty crowns and jewels. It is about being a leader in a world full of followers.

My paw paw was a man of passion. He was strong willed and passionate about all that he loved and the one that he loved the most, Jesus. He was so determined to get the good news of Jesus Christ out into this world and he was successful.

The first time he met my husband David, he asked him point blank, "What are you going to do with your life?". Paw Paw was a man of purpose. He lived his life to the fullest a life can be lived.

Ralph Woerner is the greatest man I have ever known. It is my honor to be a part of him.
The night before his funeral, all the cousins gathered to tell one last memory of our dear paw paw. My eight year old was in the room listening intently. As we all laughed hysterically at the wonderful memory, my child said, "Tell me more". My response: " Oh there will be more my child." Because I know that my children's children will know of the greatness of God through this man.
My paw paw is dancing with Jesus. Though for a short time I cannot see him or touch him, his legacy will go on for generations. There is no end to a man such as that.
It was his hearts desire to bring people to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. He is gone but his dream is not.
As his princess I will carry on his dream. I will live a life madly in love with Jesus.
He is my paw paw and his passion runs through my blood.
And So...his story continues to be written...

In Memory...

This was originally posted by Jon Mitchell as a tribute to Ralph Woerner on www.answermagazine.com.


There are so many words I could use to describe Ralph Woerner. He was passionate, giving, loving, driven, intelligent, motivating, an entrepreneur, a voracious reader, a skilled writer and so much more. To his family...to me...he was Paw Paw. He taught me how to work hard, play hard, love hard, and best of all, how to be an intentional follower of Jesus Christ. He taught me that life is not about me. To all of us who continue to work on Answer Magazine, which he founded in the early 70's, he has been a provider.

Ralph founded this company because he loved people, and could not bear the thought of one soul perishing in eternity without first having the opportunity to discover the greatest gift of all time...the gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ.

The best way for you to know my Paw Paw and our founder is to read the words of his family. You can visit ralphwoerner.blogspot.com and read the powerful words from those he leaves behind. Those who are determined to carry on his legacy of advancing God's kingdom with more determination than ever before. We will never know this side of Heaven the deep impact he has made on lives all over the world through his generosity, his writings, and his preaching. But I believe he now knows what an impact he made, because when he entered the arms of Jesus, he heard "Well done Ralph...well done!"

He lives on because, as you may know, his hand penned the passions of his life. Even today, the articles he wrote in Answer Magazine continue to be spread across this nation. Our most requested articles are none other than Ralph's. I have heard many times from readers how much of an impact his articles had on their lives.

He modeled a giving life. Wow, did he ever do that! I’m smiling now as I think about the fullness of life he embodied. He gave life to his family, to his churches, and to his many readers through his numerous articles. He gave life through his spoken words, his touch, his looks, his laughter, and his writing.

So, it is with great honor, respect, humility and strength that we pick up the mantle that he has left. We will carry it further, faster, more intensely, more passionately, more lovingly and with more unity than those before us. Why? Because that is what he would have wanted…every previous generation desires for the next generation to go deeper. How will we be able to do this? Because we have each other, and we have the One who binds us together with cords that cannot be broken. Through his death, we find life.

A Life Changed...

I received an email today from a friend and it meant so much I thought I would share it with all of you. It is a testimony to God's grace on our family.

"You may not realize this but your family truly is a witness for Christ. Sitting at the funeral service Friday, listening to what people said and wrote about your Paw Paw, left such an impact on me. I could honestly and so thankfully say that your Paw Paw touched my life too, not only through the magazine, but through getting to know your family and interacting closely with you and your dad. Thank you for giving to the Lord, I am a life that was changed."

Matching DNA

I want to start an ongoing dialog. Don't make this complex or scientific. Let it be simple and organic.

Think of a trait of RW. You can just name it or you can describe it. Then name the person(s) who has that trait. What was Ralph like, and who carries that torch on?

A few examples for clarity:

One of Papaws strongest physical features was that nose, excuse me, I mean that NOSE. Harold had Papaws nose.

Papaw was shrewd. He was cunning. He was a natural business man, based on common sense and incredible personal discipline. I see these same qualities in Jon, Maclaren, Rachel, Kinsey,

A final thought:
make this dialog like a family reunion: lots of input, lots of opinions. Sometimes in agreement, sometimes in argument. bottom line--describe our RW, and name the person who has matching DNA

Working with Dad

A week later and thoughts of my Dad still consume my mind.. I am flooded with memories from childhood as well as of those hard weeks prior to his death. Seeing him in such pain was almost more than I could bear. I began to argue with God about the pain. Dad didn't deserve that after giving so much of himself to God’s service.. But God settled my heart by letting me know that the time of pain was so short compared to eternity. After that I was at peace even though Dad continued to hurt.

Dad suffered a stroke a number of years ago. At that time I felt like I lost him. One day he was here, loud, passionate, opinionated and the next day he was different. He couldn’t get the words out that he was thinking. He couldn’t remember what he had read. He kept saying, it’s all gone, pointing to his head.

I grieved during this time. I was accustomed to seeing him everyday at work and discussing business. I missed him so much. As time went on I began to forget what he had been like and began to see him as he was. This blog has been wonderful in reminding me of the man I knew for so many years.

I worked for Dad at Gospel Publishing for a number of years and loved it. I was passionate about the work we were doing and I discovered some of my gifts. Dad helped me get started in business for myself by financing the advertising and set up. Don’t worry, he made it all back as JS Printing became successful. We celebrated when we first printed 25 jobs in a week, then 50, then 75. He was as excited to see us succeed as we were. I am so blessed to have had his help getting started.

I grinned inside when I was able to arrive at work earlier than Dad. This was hard to do. I ‘d hear him clapping those hands as he walked down the hall and then he’d ask, “whatcha doing here so early?” and I would respond “The early bird gets the worm”. A lot of those times he would invite me to go to Ken’s (better know as Red-Neck’s) for breakfast. Sometimes I’d go just for coffee if I had already eaten. Sometimes I would feel like I couldn’t spare the time

I guess my work ethic is one of the biggest gifts Dad gave me. He had me cutting grass at 10 years old and cleaning the church when we got older. He taught me to do a job well. Later when I would stuff newspapers for his advertisement, he would come out sometimes and help me. That spoke volumes of love to me.- giving his time to help me make a little extra money.

I rarely saw Dad without a book in his hand. He taught me by example that reading was a powerful way to grow.

I am so thankful for my heritage. I am thrilled to have this blog to read and record memories.

Until next time,

Sharon

Pic

Hey All. I made this today with a picture of Pawpaw. I feel weird doing this, but if you wanted me to make one for you, I would. I would need $$ for the frame and shipping, but I thought i would offer it to ya. I am not doing this to make any money for myself, just putting it together for you. I got the frame at Hobby Lobby for about 20 dollars, and I just printed the picture on my computer. I feel like it suits Pawpaw perfectly. I miss him so much.

Dream

I dreamed about Paw Paw last night. Richard and I were little boys again and in Elberta with Paw Paw. We were in his orange grove and found some crickets. We started collecting the crickets and quickly found that Paw Paw had two fishing poled ready for us. So we put those crickets on and started fishing. Richard hooked in first and then me. And Paw Paw went crazy whoopin and a hollerin.

It was a good dream.

Measure of a man

They can I.Q. you and run you through
Their rigorous details
They can do their best to rate you
And they'll place you on the charts
And then back it up with scientific smarts
But there's more to what you're worth
Than their human eyes can see
Oh, I say the measure of a man
Is not how tall you stand
How wealthy or intelligent you are
'Cause I've found out the measure of a man
God knows and understands
For He looks inside to the bottom of your heart
And what's in the heart defines
The measure of a man

I've always felt that music communicates to the deepest part of who we are, so I have chosen the first verse of this song by 4Him to say what I feel is a summary of who Ralph was. As I've read everyone's memories and tributes to his life I realize there is nothing of significance that I can add. Yet, I also add my words of thankfulness not only for a living example of Jesus' love and passion for the lost, but also for the amazing legacy he has left behind; not only to his family but also to those whose lives have been forever changed because of his obedience to the call of his Savior. Only now at his passing do we begin to see the overwhelming depth and width of his impact on the lives of those he came in contact with, not even scratching the surface of those who found what they needed in some crisis or low point in their lives by reading some article he had written. These things speak volumes about where the heart of the man was. Having been in the family for only 24 short years I have certainly been both honored and blessed to have been a part of his life. As Jesus continues to shape me into the one He has intended me to be I have a great example to pattern my life after. It warms my heart to see that the passion that kept Ralph true to the course has been successfully passed down to next generation of young men and women who in turn are even now working to pass that vision for the lost and the passion for Jesus to their children so that the legacy continues to be passed on from one generation to the next. This I think, more than any words we might say testify to the success of his life.

Meet Me at the River

This video was taken less than an hour after Paw Paw passed away. It was a beautiful moment as some of the family gathered around his bedside to pray and sing one of his favorite songs "Meet Me at the River". I'll never forget it.

Final Goodbyes

The memorial service went so good friday night. I got up and said something to honor paw paw because I knew if I didn't I would regret it for the rest of my life. I struggled a lot with what to say. How do you honor a man so great in two minutes? I have had two or three people ask me to blog what I said and I will soon.
The memorial service felt like a final goodbye to me and I was an emotional wreck the last half of the day Friday. I have had emotional highs and lows all week. I feel like I think about him all the time. I try to distract myself and think of cleaning or cooking but my thoughts always go back to him. I want to make him proud. Really proud. I haven't done anything great in my life and I don't have any outstanding qualities that I can really be proud of. I am just a plane jane. I have always been ok with this until now. I feel as though I am his heir and I should have greatness bread into me. Not the kind of greatness that I wear around town and boast about but the kind that makes Ralph Woerner proud of me. The only thing I can think of is that I love to write. I love it. If I had my way I would move to the beach...or paw paw's property! I would write all the time. Children's books, poems, womens books. I love to write. I admit that my skills could improve quite a bit but I love to write. I feel like i have so much inside me that needs to get out. This is like my paw paw. He was a great writer.The only other thing I can think of that I would really love to do is work his land. I love his land. I love farming. I would love to take care of that beautiful piece of land. Even when I walk it I feel so alive. I have committed to finding my passion and pursuing it. I have even told the church I can't work nursery anymore because I feel I am doing it out of obligation and I want to serve out of passion. I am praying that God will reveal my true passion and give me means of pursuing it. I just want to serve Jesus and make my paw paw proud. His life was serving Jesus with everything he had and serving in his passionate areas. I want to be like my paw paw. His death has stirred something on a very deep level.

This is from Elaine, the first born:(I am on Ron's computer)

Last night was really great. To me it was more about him then the service in Elberta. These were the people he walked through life challenges with.
I heard a story from one lady who said Dad was the person whom she used to picture what Jesus was like. Dad was Jesus in the flesh to this woman.
person after person told me how much they loved Brother Ron.
I saw people who had made a great impact on my life during those hard years of being a teen.
I am so thankful to have been part of such an awesome church.

Somebody shout hallelujah

What an awesome night we shared last evening. I would have given so much for all the family, particularly all the grandchildren, to have experienced what we were given during those couple of hours.

So many friends, so many transformed lives, so many wonderful people who were loved by PaPaw and who loved him. Oh how I wish you could have heard for yourselves the laughter and the stories shared.

The spirit of a group of people PaPaw pastored for many years, a unique bond and strong sense of family, was as alive last night as it was at its peak in the early 1970's. Like water reflects the beauty around it, this night reflected so much of what PaPaw was about.

Makes me want to shout.

Not Ready

This is a story I heard last night at the Memorial service that you should know. Again, it speaks loudly as to the kind of man PaPaw was. I will put it in first person as it was shared with me.

Mom wasn't a Christian but I got her to come to church. She liked Ralph's preaching and came a second time. I asked Brother Woerner to go see her, explaining to him that she was not saved. "She's not ready." That was his only response.
About a week later I asked him again to go see Mom. Again he said, "She's not ready." At some time during this period I was encouraged that Mom was showing interest by continuing to come to church and also purchasing a Bible.

What if she died during this "not ready time?" I asked Bro. Woerner again to go visit her, telling him of my concern. He asked me if I had talked to her and after hearing that I had spoken to her about faith, he again told me "she wasn't ready."

About another week or so went by when I got a call from Mom. She told me Brother Woerner had showed up that day and she prayed to receive Christ. Mom said, "Last night as I was reading the Bible it became so clear and I knew I wanted to be a Christian. And today the preacher shows up." I asked her if she had called Brother Woerner to come over and she said "no," thinking I had sent him.

From Scott Dawson

These words come from Scott Dawson, who has been an honorable Kingdom warrior himself. He is a true example of how Ralph's voice will continue to echo long after he is gone. RW always told me that I needed to learn to preach like Scott Dawson.

What do I think of Brother Woerner? First, he was the first person that I had ever heard of called "Brother." Being raised in an ecumenical setting, we were fairly new to the evangelical world. However, he was also like a brother. He cared for his church with the intensity like a family member.

I still remember the days of "Kids For Christ" a radical approach to reaching students in the late seventies. After roller skating, a hamburger and a movie we would all listen to "Brother Woerner." I know he must have thought, "Who is listening to me?" The children were always high strung and motivated to be at the event on Friday night due to all of their friends being present. Well, let's see who was listening...

I was listening. I still remember Ralph's sermon on Daniel. It was the FIRST time I heard a preacher with passion. He walked back and forth shaking his hands with a demanding presence. His words were like a machine gun rambling off verse after verse after verse. Then, he called people to action. I do not think I ever listened to him without being challenged to respond to his message in some way. Now, I am carrying teh baton that Ralph handed me.

My friends were listening. During this time in my life there were many challenges. Drugs and alcohol had made their deadly appearance in the life of many of my friends. Although getting them to church on Sunday was difficult, man we had them on Friday night. If you think about it, when was the most tempting time in a teenagers life for alcohol? Friday and Saturday night. Not for these early teens, they were all at Westside Alliance.

The Nation was listening. It was here that God birthed in his heart the ability to send the message of the Gospel into homes across the nation. Millions of untold stories exist of people who became God's children due to the success of the Gospel Messenger.

Finally, God was listening. I cannot help but think that Ralph has heard the words we all aim to hear, "Well done my good and faithful servant." Ralph taught many lessons to many people and also to me. The final and probably the strongest lesson he taught was to finish well. Well Done Brother Woerner! I love you, I will miss you, and I will continue to carry the baton!

Scott Dawson

Memories from Ruth Fallin

I am posting these memories on behalf of Ruth Fallin, an amazing woman who has served this company since 1981.

My most precious memory of Ralph was when Marvin and I were with the company 10 years. He felt like he should reward us. He knew we liked azaleas so he planned a day to take us around town to show us azaleas. He and Barbara took us to Walker’s for lunch and then we headed out on the azalea hunt. He already knew the good places to go; I think he had already scoped them out. He would pull up in the driveways and just sit there and admire them. If someone happened to be out he would just holler and tell them we were just there admiring their azaleas. He spent all afternoon going around town with us. I don’t know of any other boss that would have taken the time out of his busy day to do that for an employee. He wanted to make sure that we knew we were appreciated. That was a very special day for me.

Another thing I remember is him using that old typewriter. He was always breaking the keys and he would super glue them back on. He could not keep up with the super glue himself so he brought it in my office and asked me to keep it for him. Every now and them he would come in and ask me for the glue and say “I have broke it again Ruth.”

Another memory I have is the day Marvin went down and interviewed for a job at Gospel Publishing (Feb 1981). I went with him. I ask Ralph that day if he had anything I could do and he said the only position he had open was a jogger. I told him I could do it. He said, “I have never seen a lady jog papers before”, and he told me to come on in with Marvin that Monday and he would give me a try. He told me what he would pay me and he also said if I could do the job to his satisfaction he would give me a dollar raise my first day. Harold was the one that was to train me. After about an hour of jogging Harold went up and told Ralph to go ahead and give me the raise because I could do the job after all. Ralph kept his word and gave me the raise. I worked with Ralph for about 20 years. I appreciate him giving me the opportunity for that many years to do a little part of getting the word of God in to the hands of unbelievers. I think Ralph will have a crown so heavy he will not be able to wear it because of the efforts he made for Christ.

Ruth Fallin

On the way home yesterday, we passed many lakes with small shorelines..and I saw men out there fishing. It reminded me of when Pawpaw would gather up all 500 of us grandkids, get as all in the back of that awesome grey and burgeny truck, and drive approximately 100 mph (thats what it felt like to me) on those old country roads. From what I remember, it seems we ended up at "unknown" lakes and Pawpaw would make us swim. Yeah, I think he made us. I dont think it was a choice to sit on the shore wondering what the heck was swimming in those lake waters. I also remember that in the truck on the way to the unknown lakes, we would hit bump after bump which would in turn slam our backs onto the side of the truck that hurt like a mother. Right?

Also, remember the time we ALL (when every single person threw up) went deep sea fishing and we chanced upon that small island? I remember not wanting to swim to it, because you could look down and see 1000 jellyfish swimming around. And then I remember paw paw picking me up by my life jacket and throwing me in the ocean, and said I wasn't allowed to climb back on to the boat...so I swam to the island. Getting hit by jellyfish stingers all along the way. So there I was, sitting on the island, crying cause my leg was STINGING and I remember Pawpaw jumping out of the boat and swimming to me and rubbing sand on my leg (which supposedly helped with the stinging). All it did was make my legs raw, cause pawpaw didnt do anything gentle.


It was hard to say goodbye to Pawpaw. Especially at the viewing. It didn't look like him. It looked like a wax museum Pawpaw. I did what I could to avoid the front of that room. It wasn't the Pawpaw I remembered. But I felt like he was honored greatly as the funeral. I cried and cried, but I think they were tears of....something. Not exactly sadness, not joy either. Just tears. Like love for Pawpaw just flowing down my cheeks.

I remember the night before Maclaren came out to play Finally Home on the guitar. He only knew the music at this point, and it made me cry. To me the music just sounded like Pawpaw. Visions of him danced before my eyes. It was very moving to me. I even think Olivia got it. I was holding her and she was squirming and squirming and when Maclaren started playing she just stopped and listened in what looked like awe. It is something I will always take with me from this week. I think Pawpaw knew what was happening at that moment. I hope he did, anyways.

Tuesday night Memaw was cleaning out all of Pawpaws clothes. I had the privelege of selecting anything I wanted to take that reminded me of him. I found this killer wool plaid tie and immediately my heart jumped. It reminded me of a plaid shirt that in my mind, Pawpaw had on everytime I saw him. It was so neat to be able to take something of him home with me other than just memories.

I miss him.

Silence Is So Loud

You know, until yesterday morning, I never really realized how much Paw Paw smiled. I mean, subconsciously I knew that he smiled all the time, but to really see it yesterday was very overwhelming. It made it hard to stand in front of friends and family to simply read a poem, when the man that is Ralph Woerner was presented in such a way that tears hit me like a load of bricks falling off the empire state building. I don't think it was sadness, I wouldn't say I was sad, though I wasn't crying tears of joy either. I think Richard said it best, I was just overwhelmed with the love he had for us while here on earth.

I don't have tons of stories that I can share about our Paw Paw, but I do know that after hearing all the memories that have been shared these past few days that I can clearly see, and say with certainty, that much of the man I am today is thanks to Paw Paw. I am much more like him than I originally thought. He's the kind of man I wish to be as I continue to grow older in Christ and in this physical shell. The things that Paw Paw is notorious for, are the things I long to do. I want to be passionate about everything I do, I want people to feel unconditionally loved regardless of their past, I want to be able to give money without a second thought, to be hospitable to all who come my way. I even have his walk!! It's probably more of a Woerner thing than anything else, but I honestly think I inherited that shuffle he always had when he walked from place to place. I'm so proud to be in his family.

Paw Paw was a far better man than I could have ever really imagined. The more stories I hear about him, the more I think, "I wish I could have seen that Paw Paw." Then again, I think my interaction with him has always been a bit different than most. I never saw the fired up Paw Paw, unless he was being stern with me. The Paw Paw I have always known is the silent one. A man of few words, and wisdom that seemed to just leap out at you from his eyes. It was like he could read you like a book. I remember in these past six months, that the time I felt connected with Paw Paw the most, is when we would just sit in silence, in the lawn chairs in his car port, just watching, observing really, the movements of the family around us. I would look over at him and smile, and he would just nod his head. Words were not needed, we both knew that we loved each other. I guess that was just the way we reacted with each other.

There were so many more memories I wanted to make with him. Memories of my wedding, and even my first kid. I wanted him to be there to share those joys with me, but I suppose God decided that there was a better plan, and who am I to argue with the creator of the universe?
Paw Paw was just one of those people who fed to me a passion for people through his life. Through his actions, he changed my life, and we barely even spoke upon the theological issues. We were just two practical men, watching our family, and loving them all the same.

So on a day that I would normally reflect on how my life has been, I spend it instead reflecting on how my Paw Paw has infectiously changed my life for eternity, with one step at a time. I already miss you.

Carried Away

RW was famous for getting carried away. He'd beat that pulpit like a rented mule. He'd eat that melon like it would make him live forever. He'd get the grandkids riled up right before bed. He couldn't help himself, he just got a little carried away.

I can remember one specific incident where the phrase, "I just got carried away!" was hollered at a police officer on the side of the road.

Papaw and I were together on a trip to Elberta. I can't remember our reason for going. Then again, Eddie was growing watermelon. Do you need more reason than that? That was a unique trip. Me and RW in a truck for 5 hours. I can remember the conversation being lively and loud. That is, when we were talking. It seemed to be a rule of thumb for Papaw to think 5 minutes for every 1 minute of talking. So on a 5 hour trip, you could expect to have a little less than 1 hour of conversation. But that 1 hour was as juicy as that melon with red meat.

RW always took the Flomaton exit. That meant that we would cross through Florida for a short stretch. In my experience the Florida law officers take their job a little more seriously than our Bama officers do. And so the trap was set for a loud distracted man to irritate the man in blue.

The cobwebs in my memory seem to indicate we were on the road with the paper mill. The speed limit would change frequently. And it seemed like we just went from a 55 zone to a 45 zone. Of course, to RW, 55 meant 65. So in the blink of an eye, Ralph was smoking down the road changing into a new speed zone, therefore going at least 20 mph over the speed limit. In Florida, that is a personal foul/15 yard penalty.

I wish I could remember what we were debating. I just remember that voices were raised. And you know that was music to Papaw's ears. He loved a hot debate. He didn't even care if you were arguing the same point from different angles. He just loved it when his blood boiled. And buddy, we were yelling. He was looking at me, despite being the one driving. I was looking at him. He was so close to hitting me with that right hand. You see there is not pulpit in a pickup truck. So he'd use whatever he could find, including his own flesh and blood.

I happened to look toward the road for a moment. And I saw a silver and blue car with pretty blue lights on top, fly by us in the opposite direction. Then it dawned on me, we were flying by him.
I looked behind the truck to watch that pretty car do a dukes of hazard u turn in the road, and before I had breathed he was shining those pretty blue lights at the back of Papaw's white hair. I was stunned and eagerly watched this event with wide eyes.

Ralph, slung that pickup truck totally off the road onto the dirt shoulder. And with one smooth motion he put the truck in park, flung his door open, and marched yes marched toward the cop. The cop took the precautions that he was trained to take. He unsnapped the holster of his billy stick. He talked into the cb radio on his shoulder. But he was not ready for the tornado called Ralph.

Papaw spoke to that policeman with the same voice he was just using for our debate. And his arm gestures were huge and aggressive. I remember him yelling, "Look, I am a preacher. I'm riding with my grandson, and we were debating some things. I just got carried away!"

Mind you, the man in blue hadn't said a word yet. I can imagine what he felt. Because I've seen it a hundred times when I watch someone meet Ralph for the first time. So the policeman explained to Papaw how fast he was going. And he pointed out what the normal consequences for that violation was. Then he told Papaw in a very direct way, almost like he new exactly how to get Papaw's attention. He said, "Sir, get back in your truck, keep your speed down, and be careful what your doing."

I think RW ran back to his vehicle. Come to think of it, so did the man in blue.

Like Blood

I've been trying to figure out how to share what Pawpaw has meant to me. I'm having a hard time. But here goes nothing!
I've heard so many stories about him from Richard and others. I've heard them so many times that some of them seem like they are my own memories. I may not have been born into this family. His blood may not run in my veins. I may not have known him my whole life but he was my Pawpaw too, like blood. From the first time I met him he showered me with affection and love like I was his blood. He hugged me tight and hugged me long. Every time I saw him after that it was the same but he added "the" stare flashing me his big smile and would say, "Heeeyyy, how ya' doin'?" as he would slap my back. Frequently I would watch as Richard would hug his Pawpaw, lifting him up off of the ground and Pawpaw would wrap his legs around Richard's waist. It gave us all a good chuckle and it's an image embedded in my minds eye. He was fun and funny. From the beginning he welcomed me into his family and it seemed into his heart as well. He and Memaw both made sure that I felt welcome to them every time I was in their presence. They were interested in me, in my life. That is something I will always remember.
I was able to have my own road trips with Pawpaw and Memaw when Richard and I first married. The four of us traveled together most weekends to various church's for them to preach together. I was able to see the hand stretch high and back and some how rest on the ceiling of the car. I heard his loud sighs, I even saw him in his undershirt, navy slacks, and black socks before going to bed. Actually, I saw him in his undershirt, black socks and boxers laying in bed after Memaw invited us to their room to visit. On one road trip he continued to call me Wesley the whole time. I didn't even care. I kinda liked it, like it was a pet name he gave me. I think he introduced me as Wesley in front a church even.
I went deep sea fishing one time with him and remember his brother Eddie teasing him for being quiet and not saying much. Then again Eddie several years later asked why Caleb, who was 6 months at the time, wasn't walking ("shouldn't IT be walking?!"). I liked the times Pawpaw was quiet and would stare. Poor Pawpaw yacked over the side of the dock after we got off of the boat. I know many of you aren't strangers to that though. Pawpaw was an avid Alabama fan and for fun I would talk smack to him about Alabama vs. Auburn. I don't know why. I would just say things to see him get stirred up. One year at Sharon's we were watching the Iron Bowl with Memaw and Pawpaw and we were sitting side by side on the floor leaning against the couch. I was talking smack and the next thing I knew Pawpaw had tackled me to the ground. I wasn't sure what to do so I just laid there trying to figure out what just happened. We all just laughed and laughed about it. I'm so happy he embraced me into his family so much so that he wouldn't think twice to tackle me down. I can also remember swimming at Sharon's and watching Pawpaw who was 70 or 71 years do a flip off of the diving board like he was 20! I couldn't believe it! He was so full of life and pleasure.
Like all of you I'm proud to call him my Pawpaw. I like being part of him, knowing him and remembering him. I always wanted to sit by him when we were at family gatherings or out at restaurants. In the last couple of years I tried to show him my affection for him like he did me. I would enjoy giving him long tight hugs, holding his hand, asking him how he was doing and serving him at meal times. I always made sure to tell him I love him when leaving his presence. I wanted him to know, I wanted him to hear it.
He made me feel special and he will always be special to me. I love him, my Pawpaw.

Video

This is the video that was shown at the funeral. I will send out the actual DVD quality video when I have some time this week. It will come through a file transfer program called "YouSendIt" that will allow you to download the video. From there you can create your own DVD with it, or just keep it on your computer.

You really were a GOOD MAN

Dear Papaw,

We buried your body today. Most of the time I find the viewing and the burial a strange activity. In my heart I understand that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. So last night at the viewing, and today at the funeral, I find myself thinking, “that’s not my papaw. That’s the empty shell he left behind.”

I had no idea what would hit me today. But before I tell you about that, I should give you some context to my feelings.

For the last 6 months, I’ve known that you were writing the last chapter of your life. I saw your body weak—a reality that made me uncomfortable. I saw your spirit longing for something further than today—that wasn’t like you at all. I saw your will grow tired—perhaps the greatest tell of all. I knew your time here was short.

That made me sad. But it is inevitable that you had to leave us. And being in your bloodline, I dare not linger too long at the wishing well hoping to change reality.

I’ve seen you a few times in these last 6 months. What once was a strong oak offering shade and shelter to all the surrounding life, had become a brittle plant looking for some shade and shelter itself. And I was quietly happy. I pondered why God’s ordained seasons of life go from weak to strong and back to weak again. But I was so happy. I had fond memories of your magnificence. I remember your glory. I remember your majesty. You were my Papaw. To have your love sprinkled on me was a thrill. But the way you saturated me with your passionate love was heavenly. And I was happy. I was ready to say goodbye, because you had filled my cup. Maybe filled it so full, I would never be empty. That will make a man happy. Even if he does have to say goodbye.

Less than 3 weeks ago, your health started failing fast. I didn’t know if this would be the last sentence of your story. But I was ready. I wanted you to touch Jesus. I was eager for you to see your reward. The news of your health continued to point toward death. And truthfully, I did not feel sadness. I was pleased. Your story was a good one. The kind that borders on myth and legend. But I knew it was all true. And I was happy. I began to reread your story in my mind. I was so overwhelmed with the need to share your story, that I created this blog. I needed a place where your story could be retold. It felt good to tell your story. And honestly, it felt good to be the story teller. As if it made me a greater man, because I knew the great Ralph Woerner. And because I could tell you stories of when I walked with him.

So in the last 3 days of your time here on earth, we told your story. It was so fun. And I was happy. Happy because of you. Happy in you.

Jon called me on Saturday morning. He said that you had left that old body. And I felt something in my heart that I had never felt before. It seemed to be like an earthquake. Like the spiritual world shook. I felt that the final punctuation of your story was put in place. An exclamation point—! You were with God.

And again, I felt joy. A deep joy. Your story was now complete. I was excited to share it.

The family, all 30+ of us, gathered at your old house. We shared stories and hugs. Then more stories and more hugs. You were on our hearts. And I felt peace. I thought, “look at the fingerprint this man left behind. We will tell his story. And as we retell it, we will be writing our own story. But our story will sound so much like his. And when someone tells our story, whether they know it or not they will be telling his story.” That made me feel delight.

So I showed up to the viewing last night with a smile. I was laughing. I was happy. I was proud. There was no mourning in my soul. I did feel sadness for Memaw. I do feel anxious that the void in her life will be overwhelming. But as for me, and my cousins, and even my aunts, I felt no sadness. I felt lucky. And I would let that glow of joy shine. I was happy.

Now back to the original point of this letter. (I’m sorry for the length of that introduction. I know you were a man who tried to cheat time, and you didn’t like giving time the chance to cheat you back. But I trust now that you are in heaven you have a little more patience. No, a ton more patience.)

So back to the original point.

I showed up for the funeral ceremony in the same mindset—joy. I was happy. I belonged to you. That doesn’t change when you go to heaven. And so my happiness held true.

The family met in a separate room before the ceremony—just like we did at Harold’s funeral. Don shared some thoughts with us. I held Memaw’s hand. Because I love her. Because you love her. Again, I was happy. Then we all lined up outside the auditorium. And Maclaren started playing a song on the guitar. And my throat closed up. My eyes teared up. And something very strange happened. I wasn’t happy. That happy feeling I had for weeks just went away.

What I felt was strange. It was actually something I’ve never felt before. My happiness was gone. It wasn’t replaced with sadness, pity, or pain. Today I was held captive by an emotion I had never known before. Even now, some 10 hours later, I still don’t understand what I feel. And that is why I must, I must tell you what’s surging inside me.

I walked down the aisle and quickly found a seat. Thank God. And then the wheels came off. I came unglued. Like Ron said, “I’m a mess.” I had spent weeks meditating on your departure. I had actually found peace and happiness in your exit. And now, three days later, I’m out of control.

I’m still not sad. Nothing was left unsaid between us. We didn’t miss an opportunity to hug. There were no regrets. That was because of you. That’s how you lived. I had nothing to be sad about. Yet, I dripped tears from my eyes as if I were irrigating the flowers lined up near your casket.

Carolyn started talking. Her smile reminded me of yours. She knows your story so well, and she tells it so beautifully. She mentioned some of the chapters I’ve already read. And she gave me glimpses of the ones I have yet to read. I felt like I was having an emotional seizure. I was gritting my teeth together trying to keep from having a physical seizure.

I don’t like feeling out of control. You know, I could easily blame that on genes I got from you. I kept asking myself, “what is going on?”

And slowly I began to see it. I’m so madly in love with you. We were cramming your life, your legacy into one ceremony. And I overdosed. I kept drinking of you. I kept seeing your qualities, your love, your quirks, your smile. I couldn’t get enough. My heart was saying, “stop, I’m going to explode.” And my mind kept racing through the pictures, the memories, the feelings of you. My love for you caused my emotions to go into shock.

About 15 minutes into the ceremony I found myself silently calling out to you. I kept speaking to you in my heart, “you did it good….you did it so good…you lived so good…you did life so good…”

I desire with all my heart to please God. I want to live according to his dreams. I want him to say “well done.” More than likely, that is because of you and your story. I’ve often daydreamed of the moment that I hug Jesus. I want so fiercely for him to say, “Well, Rich, you sure licked your plate clean.” I want to eat everything that he puts on my plate.

And with that very desire simmering in my heart, it all made perfect sense. You did it. You licked your plate clean. You were so obnoxiously in love with Jesus, and life and us, and nature. You paved the path that leads me to my dreams. You lived. You really lived. I don’t mean you lived a good life. I mean you lived your life the way God scripted it. And you did it so well.

I’ve lived as a small character in your story. I’ve watched you. I saw you eat a normal breakfast on a normal Thursday. I saw you rake leaves. I saw you get pulled over by a policeman. I saw thousands of normal links making up the chain of your life. You weren’t superhuman. And because I was looking at each link, I missed it. I missed how each normal link of your chain connected with the next normal link. I missed how the chain of your life actually was supernatural. I missed how your extraordinary life was written one normal word at a time.

And I swung at your curveball, you old rascal. You acted like you were a common man. You wore true humility. You talked about your life like no one noticed. You worked outrageously hard each day, for the hope that you would make a difference some day. You had me believing that one day you would do something special. And all the while God was using you to transform lives, and communities, and cities.

Looking back, I have no doubt that on any given day you took me out to lunch. And we ate a hamburger. And you asked me about simple things. And you told me that before long you’d be planting the tomatoes. And you acted like nothing big was going down. Meanwhile, you had just paid off someone’s college debt, or donated tens of thousands of dollars to God’s work, or just mailed a gospel presentation to 3 million people.

You’re something else, old man. You were the biggest under-cover Kingdom of God warrior that I’ve ever known. And you pulled it off right in front of my eyes, one normal link after another.

And love. How do I talk about your love. I’m not sure you knew exactly how to show it, but you had more love in your pinky finger than most people have in their whole body.
And passion. You never did anything half-heartedly. You never aimed for average. You never cowered from a challenge.
And perseverance. The list goes on and on.

So I was sitting there at your funeral ceremony completely drunk with my love for you. So dangerously close to overdosing on my affection for you. I was so utterly taken by your life. You lived as good a life as any man. You showed me the way. You showed me the qualities, the methods, the attitudes, the work-ethic, the way. I had the perfect example as my Papaw. And that thought was messing me up.

Today was something special for me. I feel like for the first time, I felt the full weight of who you are. I’m a little embarrassed to say that. I mean I know you. I can tell stories about Ralph Woerner with the best of them. I know who you are. But somehow today, I felt it all at once. I felt deep inside me just how big you are. I sat there, crying, saying, “you are so fierce. You are so mighty. You are so heavy. You are so broad. You are so powerful.”

For the first time, I understood the bigness of my Papaw. And I felt awe. I don’t mean proud. I don’t mean inspired. I mean deep, breathtaking awe. I get you now. I see you in your fullness. And I am mesmerized. I am smitten with a fresh love for you.

I feel like today was a pivot point. I came into today, knowing you as my Papaw. And I loved you. I respected you. I adored you. I was so proud to be your grandson. I was so thankful for the years I had with you. However, I am no longer the same. I met you as Ralph Woerner today. I found the clearest picture of Ralph that I have ever seen. And I am more taken by you than ever before. You will always be my Papaw. But from today on, I will call you Ralph Woerner. That will be a simple way for me to remember the day when I felt the full weight of who you are. That is a very basic change that will represent a dynamic change in my life. Before today I was who I was because of my Papaw. After today, I will be veracious man, with a deeper mission, and a scorching passion. I will not change me, but I will release a fuller me than this world has ever seen. I will not grow tired. I will not slow down. I will embrace the full weight of Ralph Woerner. And I will release the full weight of Richard Mitchell. And that is how I will honor you, RW. Your legacy will expand. The seed you planted will multiply season after season after season. Now that I have a clear understanding of how big you were, I will live my life that big.

Leslie and I held hands and cried this afternoon. We talked about how you were quite probably the closest thing to Jesus that we’ve ever seen. I will cling to that—to your memory. I will hunt for Jesus with the tenacity that you did. And I hope that on occasion, you and Jesus will sit together, eat watermelon, and listen to your story be retold.

Richard Mitchell
RW

Snapshots

I have found myself frustrated because I can't seem to articulate what he has meant to me and the memories I have with him. He lived huge. Did big things. Talked loud. Danced like crazy. Debated ferociously. Read tirelessly.

Everything he did was done big.

Even though none of these snap shots of memories will mean anything to almost anyone reading this, I'll throw out random snapshots of my years with Paw-Paw:

- I remember him taking me out west when I was 10. We spent two weeks seeing the country. And I remember vividly him wanting to capture some moose on video. The only problem was, the moose were grazing so he decided to go and scare them in order to get an action shot. All you see in the video is him walking up to a moose, yelling "boo", while in the background a certain other family member is heard screaming, "Get back in the car jackass!". Classic moment.

- I remember Paw Paw always, and I mean always, finding spots in the yard I needed to do over after I cut the grass.

- I remember him drinking RC Cola's like it was aim in life just to stick it to Coke.

- I remember the way he loved Papa John's Pizza.

- I remember traveling on the interstate in his '83 Buick Regal. Me and my cousin Richard made it a point to strip all of the defrosting strips off of the back windshield. He ended up giving me that Regal as my first car years later.

- I remember Paw Paw shaving every night just before he would go to bed, which was right around 7:45 or so. He would come out in his V-Neck Tee, smelling like Brute, and hug us good night.

- I remember the countless conversations we had together about faith in Jesus. I remember him talking about Jesus as if Jesus were alive and a personal friend.

- I remember scaring Paw Paw one night while at a family reunion. It was late and the sun was down. Paw Paw was walking back down a dark trail and I stepped out and scared him like nobody's business.

- I remember being at that same campground, sitting on the porch, listening to the Katy Didd's announce their awe of God. And what sounded like noisy bugs to me, was suddenly given meaning as Paw Paw taught me about all creation worshiping it's God.

- I remember Paw Paw's grits. Incredible.

- I remember Paw Paw grabbing my head, from the time I was a baby it seems, and "scobbing my nob" which was his version of a "noogie" which for lack of a better nickname is simply hell unleashed on the scalp.

- I remember discovering for the first time that Paw Paw was human and made mistakes. He simply couldn't understand something that had happened to me and he let me know that. I was hurt and wounded and yet felt deep compassion for him.

- I remember him loading us up in his old GMC truck as little kids and flying down those old Alabama back-roads.

- I remember Paw Paw taking us to "cold cold creek" (yes it is literally just a really cold creek near the farm he grew up at). I remember all of the cousins swimming in a particular hole and wondering where Paw Paw and all the oldies went (the oldies refer to Paw Paw's 16 brothers and sisters). We then discovered they had a skinny dipping hole. Thank God it was down stream.

For Memaw...

I am typing the following words on Memaw's behalf:

Ralph and I met at Toccoa Falls College, and I knew he was the one for me. We were married in his first church, and 54 years passed by, too quickly I might add. During our marriage he pastored several churches and did a wonderful job. He was the best, and I was honored to be his wife. I will miss him greatly, but thankfully I can look forward to seeing him again. Now he is with our Lord and having a family reunion as well. What a blessed privilege to have been married to Ralph. I will always be thankful for such a blessing.

Memories of my Paw Paw

You learned to avoid pain around him, because you knew that any pain you were experiencing would be all the worse if he got ahold of you with some down south remedy.

Net fishing in Lillian Bay.

Paw Paw sucking down $3.39 worth of gas on Roy's boat because he was trying to get the motor started on Roy's boat as we were stuck under the bridge in Lillian Bay...we rowed back to shore.

Pioneer Cafeteria - I think he and Memaw kept that place in business for the last couple of years of it's existence. Speaking of restaurants, he could wear a restaurant out when he got turned on to it.

Paw Paw giving me a Swiss Army Knife. He and Memaw had gone on a vacation with us to the mountains, and knew how bad I wanted a knife, so he got me one for Christmas. He made it clear that it was him who got that present for me, not Memaw.

His old rickety silver and burgundy truck.

Trips to Elberta in the old white Buick Regal. It's funny how things come back on you. The three of us boys put a hurtin' on that car with gum, boogers, peeling off heating strips, etc. Guess who Paw Paw gave that car to when they turned 16. Jason.

Stabbing Paw Paw with a fish hook in his thumb as I ran away from a bee and tripped over the fishing line he was holding.

Knob scobbings...ouch!

Calling him Fat Freddy, and he never got tired of it.

The black socks...no matter what the attire.

Paw Paw shaving and walking around the house smelling like Dial soap and Old Spice.

Arriving at their house late at night after a long trip only to find Paw Paw sleeping. But getting so excited to run in and jump on him. He LOVED it!

Being taught that a reader is a leader.

Being given the opportunity at an early age to learn what a work ethic meant. I'm pretty sure it was illegal for us to be working in the shop...but that didn't stop anything.

Paw Paw always saw us as mature enough to be taught from the earliest age the deity of Christ and about creationism.

Paw Paw writing me letters teaching me about the importance of saving money, or that he was glad to see me, or that he reviewed a sermon I prepared and wanted to give me pointers.

Knowing that I could always call that special telephone number...1-800-578-7594...and always reach my Paw Paw.

Deep sea fishing and barfing.

Sniff sniff the lamb, and how he talked to us through the lamb.

Jumping in the leaves with Paw Paw. He truly was a big kid.

Paw Paw's red reading chair that I know has many boogers from certain grandchildren on it.

Stops at the Pig.

Parcheese

RC Cola and snickers.

Eating huge tomatoes with salt and pepper.

I remember telling Paw Paw one time that I wanted to be a missionary. He responded back with his great words of wisdom "Awww, you don't know what you want to do. You'll change your mind." In a way he was right. Paw Paw never withheld his thoughts. He was totally authentic and would let you know what he thought about any given situation.

In all of my life, I never figured out how to spell his name...the name I called him by. He was my Paw Paw...or is it PawPaw, Paw-Paw, Pawpaw, or Papaw?

A Few of my favorite things..

Here are a few of my favorite things about PawPaw:

- sitting across from him in Denny's, waiting for him to pour creamer into his coffee so he could empty the creamer cup and then fill it with coffee for us.  

- his appreciation for PaPa Johns, which nearly rivals mine

- he was a fierce Parcheese competitor and even though I am pretty sure I never beat him, he always let me argue that I was the Parcheese champ!

- Sniff Sniff's evening visits

- the meals at the Mexican Restaurant (he loved that cheese dip and I can't think of a time he didn't spill it on his shirt or have it dripping from his chin at some point during the meal)

- "Tradition"

- No ONE, I mean NO ONE, can make grits like PawPaw.  

- The fish he fried was the only kind of fish I have ever enjoyed.

  
- The banging of the pulpit when he preached

- The ENORMOUS pile of leaves he would gather for us to jump in (he must have let leaves accumulate for months at a time and I can't even imagine how long it took him to rake)  He didn't just watch us from the sidelines, he was in those leaves with us, tossing us around and laughing as we tried to come up from the pile to find air (sometimes, I really wondered if it was possible to drown in a pile of leaves

The Man Speech

One of the strongest points of influence that Papaw had in my life was the man speech. I'd like to tell you it was only once. The truth is it was more like 15 times. All the man speeches that I remember took place at the old shop, on hwy 75.
The old shop. It was about an acre and a half of building, a few pine trees, at least a dozen monstrous ant hills, and grass. No not the tame grass that lives in my front yard. according to my memory that grass was burly, stubborn, and out of control. I remember it being tall. Often up to my knees.
I don't remember my exact age, but I think I was around 10 when Papaw started hiring me to cut the grass at the old shop.
To his credit: He payed me way more than I was worth, he bought me sunkist orange sodas when I took breaks, he did come out and check on me to make sure I was ok, he would take a turn pushing the lawnmower while I rested, and he often bought me lunch
In my defense: He made me cut an acre's worth of grass with a push mower (not self-propelled), the lawn mower NEVER cranked on the first try and usually not until the sixty-fourth try, it was Alabama summer a.k.a. 'a glimpse of how hot hell is', it took me well over 2 hours sometimes 3.


I would usually start cutting grass between 8 and 9 in the morning. The grass would be wet, so before I could get 2 rows cut, the lower half of my body would be darn near soaked. In the Alabama heat, it would only be a few more rows before the upper body was soaked with sweat. So it was kinda like cutting grass after you got out of a swimming pool. The grass was so tall that it perfectly hid the ant hills. Literally, I would be pushing that lawn mower, grunting along, and instantly feel a dozen ants doing their best to kill me. What angered me was that I knew it was going to happen again in the next 20 minutes. It was just part of it. The lawn mower was a piece of...well, you get my drift. I can remember broken wheels, a wounded engine, and at the end of its life the handle bar was rusted through on the right side. But that blade was sharp enough to shave with. Before I would start, Papaw would take the blade off, and grind that bad boy into a weapon. He would grind until the metal was fresh and shiny and sharp. Then he would touch the blade to see if it was done. Very similar to a chef taking a tiny taste the sauce to see if its ready. As soon as his finger touched the blade, he'd yank his hand back as if he'd been electrocuted. Not only was the blade sharp, it was hot. No man could hold a lawn mower blade on the grinder for as long as Papaw.
So I would cut the grass in small sections. It made me feel like I was accomplishing something. Papaw didn't like that. He said it took longer to finish. I never understood his logic, and he never took the time to explain.
Inevitably I would get overwhelmed, worn out, whiney, and totally frustrated. I'd take my stinky, sweaty body into his office and interrupt the article he was writing. He'd push back from that old typewriter, spin his chair around and look at me. It wasn't the same warm smile I had seen earlier that morning. It was the look of a freight train coming down the tracks. I knew what was coming and I didn't like what I saw. Honestly, it was no more enjoyable than being out there cutting grass. But at least it was air conditioned. Then Papaw would give me the man speech.
I wish I could remember the details of the man speech. Who knows, maybe it changed each time he gave it. But I know there was a common rhythm. Don't complain about your obstacles. Don't be weak. Don't focus on the difficulty. Push yourself. Focus on the finish line. Kick your own ass, so you can get out there and kick your problem's ass. You have to make a decision, a commitment in your mind; that's where you win this battle. Life is hard, you have to be harder. Size up your problems, break it down to manageable battles, and go fight like a wild man. Do you think this problem is going to go away if you walk away? It will show up somewhere else. You have to go ahead and kill it now. You will feel totally fulfilled if you beat this thing. You can't live life only if you feel good. You'll never get out of bed, if you wait for that. You have to choose a good attitude. You have to choose to be strong. You have to choose victory. And you have to be willing to pay the price of those choices. Its not totally about the prize or reward. Its also about your duty, your responsibility. Somethings you have to do because others are counting on you. Toughen up. Tighten up. You need to learn to be strong in this situation. That is going to come when you learn to be strong on the inside.

I don't remember the exact words of what he said in his office. I do remember how he looked. Fierce. Strong. Focused. Inspiring. Scary. Convicting. I never felt good when the speech was over. I never felt warm and fuzzy, hopeful, passionate, comfortable.

After the speech, Papaw would walk me to the soda machine, put in the money, and wait for me to push the orange button. Then he'd walk me back to my lawnmower and stand there until I cranked it. Then he'd go back inside to his office and wait for the next visit. For all I know he'd start writing/rehearsing the next man speech.

Thank God, Thank God that I slacked enough to get that speech so often that it burned into my heart. And hopefully I have embraced a fraction of what he taught me.