It is no surprise that as the Thanksgiving holiday comes around my thoughts are on my paw paw and my uncle Harold. I will be in Elberta this year, for the first time ever on Thanksgiving and I can't imagine a better place to be.
I am aching to walk the land my Paw Paw walked. I am aching to breath the air that so refreshes my soul. I long to look into the sunrise and smile back at the same God who smiled on my Paw Paw's life.
I miss him terribly.
I feel so privileged to have been a part of something so wonderful.
When I think about him, the image that comes to my mind is a nappy curly haired little girl dancing on the shoes of a man she adores. He leads her around the room grinning uncontrollably and she knows nothing exist beyond the gentleness of his love.
Paw Paw, I am getting older now. I am 29 and not 5. But when I think of you I will always be that little girl being led around the ball room on her paw paw's shoes. You gave me such a wonderful gift when you loved me like this. I could not be more thankful for your life or that I was so blessed to be a part of it. You are precious to me. Your memory is precious to me.
I wonder what you do in heaven while we are stuffing our faces with Turkey. Obviously you would not celebrate Thanksgiving in heaven. What are you celebrating Paw Paw? What are you talking to Jesus about? Are you and Harold pole fishing? I miss you so much it hurts sometimes. But even in the pain, I can't help but smile because that is how I remember you...smiling, lovingly looking at me and smiling, beckoning me to climb in your lap so you could hold me close.
I love you ol' man. I can't wait to hug you again.
Harold,
I miss you so much. I miss you screaming my name "DANNER!!" You always could make me smile and laugh. I hate the way you left this world. It felt so premature and even now when I think of it, it is like rubbing sand paper on my heart. But I remember how peaceful you looked, just months before you left us. We were in your house listening to Josh Groban, Jesus Joy of Mans Desiring. You titled your head back and closed your eyes and you looked as if you were already face to face with Jesus. Complete peace washed your face. I know that you struggled in your life, with more that I can understand, but I want you to know that you were loved. You are missed.
I can't wait to see you again. Are there cats in heaven? Do you remember Toonsis the driving cat? We laughed so hard about that. We always laughed hard together.
I miss you both so much. I am sure I will stop by your grave while I am in Elberta. I know you are not really there, just your physical body, but it helps me to remember you and remember that though you suffered during the last stages of your life you are not suffering now.
My favorite saying is by Amelia Barr "Time is a very precious gift of God; so precious that it's only given to us moment by moment"
Your moments were precious to me and I will treasure them in my heart always. I love you both so very much.
Joanna
Friday, November 19, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Nothing to Say
RW was a man who helped families say goodbye. As a pastor, he was familiar with death and funerals. I wonder how many funerals he officiated. I wonder what he felt as he prepared for his first funeral. I have no doubt these events impacted him. He was a deep thinker. I can't imagine he would summarize someone's life without really processing the truth, the legacy, the meaning of the life that had passed.
Today I am reading through old notes, quotes, and comments that I keep handy. I came across and email from Jon Mitchell, sent to me in February of 2006. He had stumbled on the written text of a eulogy that RW gave for one of his friends.
"When some men come to the end of their way and their last rights are spoken, it is necessary to dress up their eulogies as much as permissible to make things look as good as possible. When other men die, a simple honest statement of the facts is sufficient for the good lives they lived. When other men die, words fail. The human language is not sufficient to express all that ought to be said.
Words cannot be framed that are adequate enough to express how noble has been the life which has been plucked from among us."
RW, you have been gone for years now. Yet your impact on my life still shapes the ebbs and flows of my days. I still miss you. And when I hear of great men, I still measure their greatness by you. Your life is one of those where "words fail." And beyond the words that you penned, there really is nothing to say.
Today I am reading through old notes, quotes, and comments that I keep handy. I came across and email from Jon Mitchell, sent to me in February of 2006. He had stumbled on the written text of a eulogy that RW gave for one of his friends.
"When some men come to the end of their way and their last rights are spoken, it is necessary to dress up their eulogies as much as permissible to make things look as good as possible. When other men die, a simple honest statement of the facts is sufficient for the good lives they lived. When other men die, words fail. The human language is not sufficient to express all that ought to be said.
Words cannot be framed that are adequate enough to express how noble has been the life which has been plucked from among us."
RW, you have been gone for years now. Yet your impact on my life still shapes the ebbs and flows of my days. I still miss you. And when I hear of great men, I still measure their greatness by you. Your life is one of those where "words fail." And beyond the words that you penned, there really is nothing to say.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Cherishing the Experience
I know it's been ages since anyone posted on this blog. No memoirs, or reasons to be sad. That in and of itself is good. I'm glad that our family can be happy in the fact that we haven't lost Ralph, but that he's just done what he often did while still alive: waiting for us to come along.
I have been going through a hard time today, and I began to wonder what he would tell me if I shared how I felt. I wondered what insight he might have had, or if he would have just sat there and listen.
The truth is, I am jealous of all of those who got to know RW in a way I never could, and now never can. The RW who would wrestle with Richard; the RW who was so full of life and jibe, that you thought he would never wear out. I've heard so many stories, but I did not get the experiences. Those who have them, cherish it, and don't take it for granted.
I guess that's really all there is to say in this case.
Grace and Peace
I have been going through a hard time today, and I began to wonder what he would tell me if I shared how I felt. I wondered what insight he might have had, or if he would have just sat there and listen.
The truth is, I am jealous of all of those who got to know RW in a way I never could, and now never can. The RW who would wrestle with Richard; the RW who was so full of life and jibe, that you thought he would never wear out. I've heard so many stories, but I did not get the experiences. Those who have them, cherish it, and don't take it for granted.
I guess that's really all there is to say in this case.
Grace and Peace
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Missing the Patriarchs
I'm turning 28 in 11 minutes. Not a huge deal except that I'm vain enough to sweat the small things... like being almost thirty (I just heard my thirty year old cousins audibly gasping). But, tomorrow is my birthday...on your birthday, your grandparents call. You see where I'm going with this? Yes, I miss my PawPaw. And because I'm prone to introspection and constantly analyzing my inner dialogue I realize that as I get older, so do my children. Carly will be six this year and the last picture I have of PawPaw actually holding her, she was nine months old. She doesn't remember him. Or his truck that was beat the heck up. Or the cold cold creek. Or freezing rain beating you in the back of the beat the heck up truck on the way home from the cold cold creek. Or Harold dropping the watermelon at the cold cold creek and PawPaw chasing the watermelon, not giving a fig about Harold landing on his rear end in the mud. She doesn't remember Harold!
The thing is, I know in my head that we aren't long for this world, that a glorious age is to come and she will know them then. Still, my heart aches for our kids, all of them, who will sit at our knees and learn the stories of our time with them but not get to physically KNOW them. And Carly, who misses her Grandpa every single day. I'm having a hard time seeing through the pain of loss right now.
What I really want for my birthday is a belly full of love, PawPaw with a black comb in his shirt pocket, the Woerner whoop, a resounding blow to my kidneys, his joy in the presence of his great grandchildren and Joel's daddy to walk through the door tomorrow and rearrange my kitchen to HIS liking (even though that gets on my every nerve).
We always want what we can't have (I know I do). What would be truly awesome as birthday presents go is if our Father in heaven finally opened the door and took us all home for a big family reunion...forever!
I wonder if our glorified bodies allow for kidney pounding and if our vocal chords will still be perfectly attuned to the grit behind the Woerner whoop?
Ooh, it's midnight.
I'm 28 PawPaw. I love you and I miss you. You are a legend.
I'm 28 Harold, and I would love the be involved in pointless eschatological rhetoric with you today.
Joel's 27 now and I'm 28 Oldie. We miss you, we love you...and our kitchen is a disaster.
The thing is, I know in my head that we aren't long for this world, that a glorious age is to come and she will know them then. Still, my heart aches for our kids, all of them, who will sit at our knees and learn the stories of our time with them but not get to physically KNOW them. And Carly, who misses her Grandpa every single day. I'm having a hard time seeing through the pain of loss right now.
What I really want for my birthday is a belly full of love, PawPaw with a black comb in his shirt pocket, the Woerner whoop, a resounding blow to my kidneys, his joy in the presence of his great grandchildren and Joel's daddy to walk through the door tomorrow and rearrange my kitchen to HIS liking (even though that gets on my every nerve).
We always want what we can't have (I know I do). What would be truly awesome as birthday presents go is if our Father in heaven finally opened the door and took us all home for a big family reunion...forever!
I wonder if our glorified bodies allow for kidney pounding and if our vocal chords will still be perfectly attuned to the grit behind the Woerner whoop?
Ooh, it's midnight.
I'm 28 PawPaw. I love you and I miss you. You are a legend.
I'm 28 Harold, and I would love the be involved in pointless eschatological rhetoric with you today.
Joel's 27 now and I'm 28 Oldie. We miss you, we love you...and our kitchen is a disaster.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Azalea's and Pine Straw
It is hard to believe it has been a year since RW's passing. Sometimes I miss him so bad that it still feels as though it just happened. I am feeling so emotional even as I write this blog.
The azalea bushes have been beautiful this spring and every time I see one I hear his gruff voice saying, "Man that is beautiful". I laugh as I remember the drives around Centerpoint just to see the azalea's. He would pull into a random driveway and just sit there and stare.
I also remember that when he needed pine straw for his planters, he would stop at a strangers house and start collecting it out of their yard. I would say, "Paw Paw shouldn't you ask first" he would gruffly say back, " Aww they don't care, they don't need it!".
My Paw Paw, the boldest of the bold.
I miss you old man. I can't wait to see you again. I know you are happy and well now, eating all the peaches and satsumas you can stand. You were a great man, I wish my children could have known you as I did.
I long for the day when we will all be with Jesus and we won't remember the sting of death.
Jesus, hug my Paw Paw for me. Please.
The azalea bushes have been beautiful this spring and every time I see one I hear his gruff voice saying, "Man that is beautiful". I laugh as I remember the drives around Centerpoint just to see the azalea's. He would pull into a random driveway and just sit there and stare.
I also remember that when he needed pine straw for his planters, he would stop at a strangers house and start collecting it out of their yard. I would say, "Paw Paw shouldn't you ask first" he would gruffly say back, " Aww they don't care, they don't need it!".
My Paw Paw, the boldest of the bold.
I miss you old man. I can't wait to see you again. I know you are happy and well now, eating all the peaches and satsumas you can stand. You were a great man, I wish my children could have known you as I did.
I long for the day when we will all be with Jesus and we won't remember the sting of death.
Jesus, hug my Paw Paw for me. Please.
Friday, January 30, 2009
These are a few of my favorite things...
In these pictures you will see RW doing two of his most favorite things in all the world: Eating taco salad and staring. This is Josiah in September of '03. I had taught Josiah to raise his hands signaling a touch down whenever I screamed, "touchdown Auburn!" Not only had I for years opposed RW in all things football. Now his great grandson was giving him grief.
Oh, how I would love to know what Papaw was thinking...
meanwhile, welcome to the Woerner stare, Josiah.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Imitating the Father
This week I imitated my Father.
Often when my kids were little and would get sick, Dad would bring them a goodie bag-bananas, oranges, grapes, Mr. Goodbar, stuff like that. I don't really know what it meant to my kids, but for some reason it mean a LOT to me. In watching Dad love my kids, I felt loved.
Several of my grandkids have been sick lately. I was wishing I lived closer so I could take them a goodie bag. But Monday I just decided that distance would not be a issue. I'm sure I'd never regret leaving work early, but I might regret not loving on my grandkids. So I left work and went to the store and had a blast getting some grapes, bananas, oranges, Valentine shaped Little Debbies and a few other things (I may have overdone it, but I'm still learning) for my sweet, sick grandbabies. I don't know what it means to them, but I sure enjoyed doing it and I think one of the reasons was because I was imitating my Dad. I just thought he'd be happy to see me doing that.
Made me think about imitating my Heavenly Father. Hope I can find ways to do that. Maybe He'll be happy to see me imitating Him. Maybe I'll even have a blast doing it.
Sharon
Often when my kids were little and would get sick, Dad would bring them a goodie bag-bananas, oranges, grapes, Mr. Goodbar, stuff like that. I don't really know what it meant to my kids, but for some reason it mean a LOT to me. In watching Dad love my kids, I felt loved.
Several of my grandkids have been sick lately. I was wishing I lived closer so I could take them a goodie bag. But Monday I just decided that distance would not be a issue. I'm sure I'd never regret leaving work early, but I might regret not loving on my grandkids. So I left work and went to the store and had a blast getting some grapes, bananas, oranges, Valentine shaped Little Debbies and a few other things (I may have overdone it, but I'm still learning) for my sweet, sick grandbabies. I don't know what it means to them, but I sure enjoyed doing it and I think one of the reasons was because I was imitating my Dad. I just thought he'd be happy to see me doing that.
Made me think about imitating my Heavenly Father. Hope I can find ways to do that. Maybe He'll be happy to see me imitating Him. Maybe I'll even have a blast doing it.
Sharon
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