GO AND BE RECONCILED

The date for my dad’s burial at Arlington National Cemetery, with family coming from New York, New Jersey, Virginia, Texas and California and us from New Mexico, was chosen to accommodate everyone’s schedules. We especially wanted to be sure that my brother’s son Rhett could be there. Dad had been proud of his own military service in World War II and his Purple Heart. Rhett, carrying on the military tradition, was due to ship out with the Navy to Japan the next Monday, and we had decided that he would receive the flag from his grandfather’s coffin on behalf of the family.

It was only after we had finished coordinating the burial date that I realized that it would be on Ash Wednesday. In a flash of joy I realized that meant that Corky and I could come to church in Vienna that night. We had been living in New Mexico for four months, and I was longing for the hugs and support I knew I would get here. It never occurred to me that people from The Church of the Good Shepherd would actually come to Arlington for the burial, too. How grateful I was for that love and support.

I spent a lot of my life angry with my father and only late in his life uncovered how much I loved him and wanted him to be proud of me and to love me. It was a challenge to follow Christ’s commands to “love thy neighbor” and “honor thy father.” But as God moved in me and I progressed in my faith walk, I gradually found compassion and patience for him and for myself.

It was a great gift to me to be there for him and care for him (with my brother) at his home in Corpus Christi, Texas, for the last week of his life. I believe I helped him to sense God’s presence, to have the courage to face his death and to be at peace. And that hole in my heart that wanted his love also began to heal.

At the memorial service in Corpus Christi, I met many of his colleagues and former students and realized that he talked about his children constantly and with great pride to them (just as he talked about his students to us). He was proud of us and loved us. And I found I was proud of him, too, as he faced his death with courage and gracefully said his goodbyes.

At that Ash Wednesday service, I got the hugs I hoped for and more. In the service, we had the opportunity to let go of some barrier between us and God by writing it on a small piece of paper that would be burned. If there was any anger left in me, I finally offered it all up then and let it go.

My prayer as I write this is that anyone who reads this who recognizes a similar problem with someone close will realize it actually is possible, with God’s help, to let go of anger. And to love instead. Amazing grace, indeed.

— Nancy Searls

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist