An Update from Mark Edwards

I took a short day trip today northward to Bowling Green, KY, to have lunch with our long-time friend, Gomer. Gomer and his family were members of FBC Nashville from 1959 until several years ago when they thought it wise to live nearer to their oldest daughter, Connie. Younger daughter Nancy was in her first year at Belmont University when we came to Nashville in 1977, so we've known them nearly forty years. Honey and I went to visit Gomer almost two years ago at his still-developing retirement community, and he lives in the same comfortable, attractive villa. He and I have at least two things in common - we both lost our wives too soon, and we both miss them every day. This Sunday would have been Honey's and my 46th wedding anniversary, and today, Gomer reminded me that he and Marie were married just shy of 70 years. 

Gomer is amazing. He'll soon be 94, he lives alone, drives a perky Honda Fit, and meets Connie at FBC Bowling Green every Sunday. He walks slower than in days gone by and only occasionally uses a cane - not today. He keeps his mind sharp by working two crossword puzzles every day and reads one or two books on his Kindle every week... and it's working because he is still one sharp dude, I'm tellin' ya. He pulls out his iPhone and swipes, punches, and pecks the thing like a teenager. 

Gomer was always a good churchman in Nashville and certainly stays up-to-date with goings on at his current steeple. He told me about the new Pastor, and we talked about the interim Minister of Music and the search for the permanent person. 

 As we drove out of his community en route to lunch, he pointed out some of the new construction in his village, specifically the clubhouse. 

"Are they including a racquetball court, Gomer?"

"No, and I'm glad they're not because I would be tempted, and I don't need that."

I think I remember that Gomer was a noonday regular at the Y only a couple blocks from "the Board" (now Lifeway) where he worked almost a whole career. He was a reputed racquetball player. 

I drove, and he navigated us several miles to downtown and narrated various points of interest while looking ahead and directing me into correct lanes of traffic in plenty of time to make necessary turns en route to the restaurant. I was impressed. We enjoyed a wonderful lunch at Steamers, an almost new seafood spot. We talked mostly about his coming to and working at "the Board," but only because I kept asking.

Back in his living room, I noticed a digital keyboard in his second bedroom, and before I left, he wanted me to play it a bit.

"Gomer, I had NO idea you play the piano."

"Yeah, I got this thing some time back. We had another one, but I wanted one with weighted keys."

I sat down and played, "God Leads Us Along," which was already on the music rack. He sat in the computer desk chair and sang along. 

"That was Marie's favorite, and it was sung at her service."

Many times, Honey and I remarked to one another and celebrated together the host of good, good people we were blessed to know, love, and learn from during the forty years of ministry in three loving, supportive, and nurturing churches. Gomer and Marie Lesch were in that crowd, and he's still blazing the trail for some of us. 

Thanks, Gomer... and thank you, God. 

In shady, green pastures so rich and so sweet, 
God leads His dear children along;
where the water's cool flow bathes the weary one's feet, 
God leads His dear children along.

Sometimes on the mount where the sun shines so bright,
God leads His dear children along; 
sometimes in the valley, in darkest of night, 
God leads His dear children along.

Though sorrows befall us and evils oppose, 
God leads His dear children along; 
through grace we can conquer, defeat all our foes, 
God leads His dear children along. 

Okay, sing the refrain with me --

Some through the waters, some through the flood, 
some through fire, but all through the blood;
some through the great sorrow, but God gives a song
in the night season and all the day long.

God Leads Us Along - Words: G.A. Young

An Update from Mark Edwards

Mid-afternoon today I returned from a fast almost nine days away -- a combination of work and play. The work part was leading three sessions at Baylor's annual Alleluia Church Music Conference -- two related to the Notes from Susie book and one pinch-hit conducting a reading session of some Celebrating Grace music. That event is always fun because I'm always able to re-connect with friends from afar, and this year there was a good crop of them. 

The play part was seeing some family and visiting with a few friends along the way as far south as San Antonio. I had a couple of interesting expected "coincidences" that I'll tell you about in the next few days. 

The bookend Sundays on either side of the Baylor event, I led music at Second Baptist Church in Memphis where son Nathan paved a clear path for me to step in and enjoy the fruits of his bi-vocational labor as minister of music through the end of June. He even scripted the worship services through July so I led the hymns and anthems he chose. He chose well, and the choir sang well. 'Twas gratifying indeed to hear many in that congregation speak how much they appreciated Nathan's ministry and how much they now miss him, Corri, and kids. Attaboy, Nate!

Sitting in church this morning and again rolling along I-440 this afternoon, it occurred to me how blessed and thankful I am nearing age 69, to first be able to continue to "play" in the church music game and even greater, to have the opportunity to do so -- yet more of God's goodness and provision for me. I love music of the church and next Sunday I get to do some more of it with the best singing congregation and choir I know -- FBC Nashville. That's always a treat and I look forward to it. 

It's good to be home now for a while. Gallivanting around as in recent days takes its toll on an old dude. 

Here's a hymn we sang at Second this morning: 

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
in cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter there's a spring that waits to be, 
unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see. 

There's a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
there's a dawn in every darkness bringing hope to you and me. 

From the past will come the future; what it holds a mystery, unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.  

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
in our doubt there is believing: in our life, eternity. 

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory, 
unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

Hymn of Promise – words by Natalie Sleeth 
© 1986 Hope Publishing Company

Living Into Songs of Faith by Mark Edwards

It has been nearly nine years since I’ve had a weekly music-leading responsibility, but I still think about it quite a bit – not the weekly responsibility but the “stuff” of that role. Ministers of music (a term that dates me) are first of all minister to their congregation, but primarily utilize and specialize in things musical to express that ministry. The main tools of a church music leader are the hymns and songs they offer, teach, or sometimes impose on their choirs and the congregation gathered in worship.

I’ve about decided that the music leader can experience any piece of music and deliver it to his/her congregation on three levels. The first level is simply knowing the piece musically and mechanically. At this level the leader can say the all the words, sing the tune, and lead the song appropriately – basic but also “surface.”

Below that plane is a second level – understanding the piece. Here the leader will explore the breadth and depth of a song’s message, its theology, and its value in worship. She might ask questions such as “How does this piece edify the body of Christ?” or “Is music and text well-matched; does the music convey the text well or does it compete with it?” or “Is it singable and worth singing?” Seminary hymnology classes and helping build two hymnals in my ministry were rich, extended sessions in this second level.

The third and deepest level is for the leader to live into the song. For me, this is the great lesson learned and discovery made while Honey was sick and since her death sixteen months ago. Perhaps it took a dark night of the soul to awaken this level in me. But I’m thankful to be continuing to learn it because I experience songs of the faith – primarily the hymns – at a much deeper and more personal level than ever before. Hymns ancient and modern, and especially the Celebrating Grace Hymnal are like discovering a new book of Psalms.

I still lead music out and around these days – this summer most Sundays in three different spots. I won’t say I’m better at it than before, but now “living into it” likely makes me different at it. I try to engage the worshiping congregation at the “living” level.

Consider camping in a hymnal for a spell and work at living into what you find there. Here’s one you might begin with. It’s a hymn and a Psalm – the 84th . Read it aloud several times and claim a line or two for the day.

How lovely, God, how lovely is Your abiding place;
my soul is longing, fainting, to feast upon Your grace.
The sparrow finds a shelter, a place to build her nest;
and so Your temple calls us within its walls to rest.

In Your blest courts to worship, O God, a single day
is better than a thousand if I from You should stray.
I’d rather keep the entrance and claim You as my Lord,
than revel in the riches the ways of sin afford.

A sun and shield forever are You, O God most high;
You shower us with blessings; no good will You deny.
The saints, Your grace receiving, from strength to strength shall go,
and from their lives shall rivers of blessing overflow.

How Lovely, God, How Lovely – words by Arlo D. Duba, 1984 © 1986 Hope Publishing Company

- Mark

Exclusive Excerpt: Mark Edwards

Whether you were a part of the original Facebook group or Susie and Mark's cancer journey is all new to you, Notes from Susie: Choosing Gratitude in Life’s Low Places offers something helpful to each reader. Combining additional material with the compiled and enriched Facebook posts written during Susie's illness, the book illuminates the Edwards' joys and struggles, all the while buoyed by recent and timeless hymns that assured them of God's presence.

As the final part of this blog series, we will highlight an exclusive excerpt from the Epilogue section of the book created by Mark Edwards to complete the story, add background, and lend future perspective to the reader: 

It has been a few months since Honey died, and I continue to work through the grief process that, looking back, actually began soon after we received her diagnosis. Still, though, I catch myself trying to solve the unsolvable and unravel that which we will only "understand better by and by."

The last two years of her life were but a small slice of her otherwise beautiful and almost storybook sixty-three years, as well as our nearly forty-five years together. We were determined that this brief stretch would not define or detract us. We enjoyed recalling, reciting, and celebrating anew how God's goodness and mercy had, indeed, followed us all the days of both of our lives. We were both raised in good Christian homes; both navigated safely through high school; we found each other earlier on; we served three wonderful churches; Weslee and Nathan -- our children -- were/are wonderful; we have had good jobs, a stable home, enough money, good, good friends through the years, caring neighbors. The list is endless. Life has had its ups and its downs, its joys and sorrows, its curves and straightaways. But until March 2013 we had been pretty much spared serious challenges and difficulties that other couples and families face. By the grace of God, we were able to focus on and live in the light of all the joy and brightness that had characterized the vast majority of our days. 

I am not ready to say that two years of painful cancer and ultimately Honey's death were God's plan, but I firmly believe that God is working good things in the lives of those of us left in the wake of her death. The opportunity to compile/write this book seems to be early evidence of God's "work for the good" for me. Reliving and scripting some of the story is emotional and even somewhat painful, but the greater portion is joyful and gratifying. We know not what lies ahead, so we are trying to trust the One who clearly does; frankly, there's some excitement in living expectantly even through the shadows.  

My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn that hails the new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul – how can I keep from singing?”

- Robert Lowry, 1869

- Mark Edwards

Once Again, the Dust Has Settled

Once again the dust has settled, but wow, what a weekend 'twas! As far as I can tell, the Susie Edwards Memorial Concert was one total success. Again taking cues from Honey in the gratitude department, here are some people and things for which I am thankful tonight (knowing full well I'll miss something important):

• All the singers and instrumentalists who went the distance rehearsing and performing magnificently. Many of them came from a great distance to participate and celebrate with our family Honey's life. Apparently, the Herd has not disbanded and a bunch of them are fine singers of "the Christian song."
• My brother, Randy, who put the very meaningful program together and pulled it off with precision and excellence, and for his assistant, Tina McCartney, whose demeanor is much like Honey's. 
• The staff of First Baptist Church, particularly Joe Fitzpatrick, Laurie Hall, and Wesley Lankford, who hosted the event and tended to the many details that went with it. 
• Kim Hester who worked two sides of the three-sided table -- Celebrating Grace and FBC Nashville Music Staff as accompanist. 
• Weslee and Nathan, their families and in-laws who shared the weekend with me and made it even more special. 
• Friends from near and far who attended the concert or watched the live-stream to remember and celebrate Honey again, more than a year after her death. 
• Tom McAfee and Celebrating Grace staffers Janet Jarriel, Kim Hester, and Mary Ruth Welch who have worked tirelessly to bring the Notes From Susie book from suggestion to reality. 
• Don Beehler, book editor and cheerleader
• Everyone who generously contributed to the Children's Freedom Choir
• People who cut me slack signing books last night when I couldn't for the life of me think of their names, people I've known for years. I'm still red-faced! 

I told you I'd forget something important. 

Those are day-after objects of gratitude. The thing that kept washing over me last night during the concert was gratitude that Honey and I were allowed to serve as that church in the first place and for almost a whole career. I sat alongside many women and men in seminary who would have enjoyed serving at FBC Nashville just like we did, but we were given the opportunity. There's only one explanation for that -- GIFT! Whoa, I miss that gal and certainly did during last night's wonderful music. But sitting there perusing row after row of current, former, and distant choir singers, seeing/greeting/hugging orchestra players who played for us all those years, looking upward to that cross-shaped support holding that majestic room together, enjoying the room's natural acoustic that fosters glorious congregational singing of timeless hymns, being inspired by long-time friends Cynthia Clawson singing and hubby Ragan Courtney speaking, then capped off hearing/seeing sweet Somerlie -- who grew up in our church -- play forth her heart and soul flawlessly through that oboe on "Susie's Gratitude" -- oh my soul! GIFT! That's it. GIFT! Like salvation. 

My heart is full. How can I keep from singing?

Notes From Susie books will begin shipping tomorrow from our Macon (GA) warehouse. Thanks for your patience. Production didn't move along as quickly as we anticipated. But they are here now and look great. You still may order via this link: http://www.celebrating-grace.com/notes-from-susie-choosing-gratitude-in-life-s-low-places 

Here is a song written by my brother for last night's concert: 

 As we walk the way with Jesus, many challenges we face. 

Fear, despair, and loneliness sometimes impede the race.

So we hope and pray and listen, always seeking the right choice, 

as we follow Jesus' words and listen for His voice. 

In the middle of the journey Christ comes to light our way.

In the midst of our great trials there is peace. 

In the center of the darkest night there's hope and comfort sweet. 

In the middle of the journey there is peace.

Let us then be true and faithful, giving thanks for each new day,  

showing grace in everything, in all we do and say.

For we know that life in Jesus is much more than here and now. 

Soon we'll gather 'round His throne, and there we'll humbly bow. 

In the middle of the journey Christ comes to light our way.

In the midst of our great trials there is peace. 

In the center of the darkest night there's hope and comfort sweet. 

In the middle of the journey there is peace.

In the Middle of the Journey -- Randy Edwards, 2016

Blessings, dear friends. 
-Mark

This is the Big Week by Mark Edwards

Well, this is the big week. According to the planners -- which barely includes me -- things seems to be coming together for the "Honey" Memorial Concert Saturday evening at 6. It's going to be magnificent. Here's the link to more of the specifics and  a link to perhaps share with others: 

https://www.facebook.com/events/1728143354107536/

I hope you can attend, but second best would be to watch the live-stream on the First Baptist Church, Nashville website -- https://www.firstbaptistnashville.org/media/streaming-services-and-events/

Our regular Tuesday morning Bible Study group met this morning and there was talk about all the goings-on this weekend when Rusty's tongue-in-cheek comment was something to the effect that, "all the hoopla in her memory would be just as Honey would have wanted!" Yeah, right! Then, Jason chimed in with, "I'm going to do my part in her memory by going to the main parking lot entrance and greeting people." I'm not completely sure how heaven works, but if she's aware of all this down here, she's scratching her head in total wonderment. Still, it's nice to see and hear who is coming from far and near -- she'd be all over that part for sure! 

The accompanying big deal is that the Notes From Susie books have arrived. Whoohoo! The final prep took longer than we expected but once we released the manuscript to the printer, they delivered finished books in three days. We are still impressed! The book is exactly four hundred pages, but only 370 are Honey and me -- mostly her. Nathan and Weslee each wrote a few pages about how they coached their kids through Honey's illness and death, and my brother Randy wrote a couple of updates toward the end of Honey's life. Our friend Ragan Courtney wrote the Foreward -- as only her can do; and our friend Gordon Brown designed the cover -- as only he can do. We couldn't be more pleased with the book, and, as Tom McAfee reminded me, it will be especially good down the road for the grandkids. Thanks, Tom, for that reminder and the opportunity to share our story. Books may be purchased or picked-up Saturday night or ordered online -- http://www.notesfromsusie.com/. Shipping begins Monday. 

(What would we do without website links?)

Life has not slowed down much at all. Last week, I finally completed a couple of fun but odd-job projects in the shop for two friends. I like minor but interesting shop projects -- those that a real woodworker doesn't have time to mess with and can't make a living at; but many times they are more to me like a puzzle I enjoy figuring out. But, the best thing is that I get to use my vision statement -- "I may not be very good at this, but I AM slow!" Maybe around Christmas I'll remember to show you the interesting project just completed for my neighbor across the sidewalk. We bartered that project -- I built the piece and she made my yard attractive. Win-win! 

I also continue to do little church music on the side -- two Sundays recently at Forrest Hills Baptist Church for Wayne, mentoring the musicians at nearby Brentwood UMC, and standing in for Joe downtown some in the next couple of weeks. As they say, "it's wonderful work if you can get it." So, maybe I should change my business cards to "Music Minister At-Large" -- or not! 

Sunday was Pentecost which celebrates the coming of the Holy Spirit to empower the church. Here's an old hymn set to a thirteenth-century plainsong that we could have sung. I love it. 

Gracious Spirit, dwell with me, I would gracious be;

help me now Thy grace to see, I would be like Thee; 

and, with words that help and heal, Thy life would mine reveal;

and, with actions bold and meek, for Christ my Savior speak.

Truthful Spirit, dwell with me, I would truthful be; 

help me now Thy truth to see, I would be like Thee; 

and, with wisdom kind and clear, Thy life in mine appear; 

and, with actions, lovingly, speak Christ's sincerity.

Holy Spirit, dwell with me, I would holy be; 

show Thy mercy tenderly, make me more like Thee; 

separate from sin I would and cherish all things good, 

and whatever I can be give Him who gave me Thee. 

Mighty Spirit, dwell with me, I would mighty be; 

help me now Thy power to see, I would be like Thee;

'gainst all weapons hell can wield, be Thou my strength and shield;

let Thy word my weapon be, Lord, Thine the victory.

Gracious Spirit, Dwell with Me - Thomas Toke Lynch, 1855

Looking forward to seeing many of our Herd this weekend. 
-- Mark

How We Made It Through by Mark Edwards: Part Four

The past three blog posts have been an attempt to articulate some of God’s special provisions for Honey and me as we navigated her hard journey with cancer and her death a little more than a year ago. This fourth and final installment in the series relates the role hymns played in that journey.

Both Honey and I grew up with hymns. There was always a stack of hymnals on the piano or in the piano bench in both of our growing-up homes. All the kids in the house took piano lessons, one goal of which was to be able to play hymns. Both families were among the “every-time-the-doors-are-open” attenders at their respective steeples and every gathering of those congregations began by singing at least a hymn or two.

Honey’s mother was a soloist in their church choir, and my father was the volunteer music director in ours. I come from a long line of arm-waving music directors in churches. I played hymns at home by ear before I learned to read. In large measure, hymnody has been my life so much so that one time my minister of music brother told me I was a walking hymnal. (I think it was a complement – not sure.) So Honey and I were steeped in a strong hymnic tradition; hymns were our native tongue and through the years, their timeless message had sunk deeply into our hearts.

Serving as a career minister of music some forty years in the local church, then “retiring” to help build the Celebrating Grace Hymnal, we handled hymns nearly every day. But we found first-hand that knowing hymns is good, but living into them is a different matter and the greater good. Amid the battle of her illness, that which we had “hidden in our hearts” all our lives sprang forth anew as wonderful words of life.

The compilers of the Bible as we know it realized the value and importance of hymnody to the extent that they placed the book of Psalms – the Hebrew hymnal – in the middle of the manuscript where it could be found quickly. The Psalms give voice to the many moods of Christian life – praise, confession, supplication, lament, deliverance, thanksgiving – and so does a good hymnal.

Just three years before Honey got sick, the Celebrating Grace Hymnal was released and it had been my joy, privilege, and delight to have played a major role in its development. (I will forever be grateful to Mr. Tom McAfee for giving me a front row seat at that table.) I am convinced that working on that hymnal was part of God’s plan for Honey and me. During that time we vetted more than 2,500 hymns, resulting in a book that is fresh, rich, and absolutely timeless. During Honey’s illness we lived in that hymnal; it was like discovering a new Book of Psalms - literally.

I’m convinced that God did not cease revealing Himself to humankind when the Bible came into being. Hymnody seems to be God’s more recent revelation. A good hymn, like a Biblical psalm, is sturdy enough to be studied and substantive enough to sustain. And like a psalm, the more a well-crafted hymn is examined, the more evident its riches become.

Here is the first hymn – an 1844 model – we used in the more than three hundred Facebook posts Honey and I wrote during our journey. It was a constant reminder how the Christian life is to be lived no matter the circumstances.

We walk by faith and not by sight.
No gracious words we hear
from Him who spoke as none e’er spoke;
but we believe Him near.

We may not touch His hands and side,
nor follow where He trod;
but in His promise we rejoice,
and cry “My Lord and God!”

And when our life of faith is done,
in realms of clearer light
may we behold You as You are,
with full and endless sight.

(Refrain)

We walk by faith and not by sight,
led by God pure and holy Light!
Prepare us for the journey, Lord,
and may we know Your power and might,
as we walk by faith and not by sight.

We Walk by Faith – Henry Alford (stanzas); Lloyd Larson (refrain)

 - Mark

How We Made It Through by Mark Edwards: Part Three

In this spot a couple weeks ago, I identified four ways - in addition to God's ever-presence and unconditional love - God provided for Honey and me during her illness and since her death in March 2015. 

You may remember the first and primary provision was simply who Honey was. The second was the unbelievable support system - our Herd - of friends and family, people we knew and some we still have never met. This third stanza speaks to all the writing she and I have done the past three years. 

Nearly fifty years ago, a cousin and I were sharing ongoing experiences from our respective college campuses, and I distinctly remember him reporting that his journalism class required that he write a piece every day. Apparently, that nugget impressed me mightily because it's the only thing that stuck. To have to sit down every day and write something, anything worth anyone's reading, sounded awful. I was glad all over again to be studying music - performing it, not writing it. 

Day 5 into our cancer journey and seeing the flood of phone calls and messages I was trying to manage, our daughter Weslee suggested we set up a Facebook page - a central site to keep concerned family and friends updated with current and correct information. Thus began our writing. 

The Facebook page began as informational only, each post intended to last a day or two when it was replaced with something new to report. But as we wrote on, our updates seemed to evolve into something more, something larger than specifics of Honey's condition and our dealing with it. 

For short periods of time through our married life, Honey kept a journal, usually part of a Bible study group assignment. But, journaling has never been a part of my Bible study group or routine, so I never have. Looking back though, our Facebook updates - nearing 350 by now - acted like a journal. 

Doing all that writing was one of the absolute most helpful things for us. It was pivotal for our new journey, not from informational or relational standpoints - although both were important - but more for its therapeutic and cathartic value to both Honey and me. It allowed us a vehicle and discipline to express our feelings, fears, and faith. From the outset and just like a journal, we determined to be honest and candid - when things were bad, we said so; when we were afraid, we said so; when Honey was down; we said so. We wanted to be transparent and believable; no reading between the lines was necessary. 

Many nights, there wasn't much to report, but we'd write something anyway. After dinner, one of us would ask, "are you going to write tonight or am I?," and whoever drew the short straw was up to bat. I always wanted her to write when she felt up to it because people wanted to hear from the patient rather than the caregiver. I haven't counted, but I think we each wrote about the same number of updates. The last one she wrote was about a month before she died. Each time, we'd read our update aloud to the other to be sure it was clear, that we had written complete sentences, and that information shared and feelings expressed were accurate. When people would respond with comments to our updates, Honey was always amazed that anything she wrote would be an inspiration to anyone. 

Midway into her illness, people began to suggest that we compile our updates into a book. Yeah, right! I'm sure that will happen! But not long after Honey died, Tom McAfee, Celebrating Grace CEO and now decade-long compadre, called to ask if I would be interested in doing just that. What a gift that, too, has been! Building the book, some of the journey has been painful to relive, but recalling and writing it helped me better process the hard part, to make greater sense of it, and to put it all in better perspective. The book project has extended the hard part of the journey for sure, but it also has made me more grateful and joyful at the total journey Honey and I traveled together. 

Bottom line, the writing routine and regimen helped each of us deal with our "stuff" and you can bet we both had stuff to deal with. Thinking, saying, and repeating something exist on pretty much the same level, but both of us found writing to reach and reside at a different level - higher and deeper. 

I hope our writings, condensed and compiled in Notes from Susie: Choosing Gratitude in Life's Low Places, will be a blessing to you, and perhaps encourage you to consider writing your journey. 

The book will be released May 21, 2016. 

- Mark

How We Made It Through by Mark Edwards: Part One

In a previous post, I mentioned two fellow church musicians who have lost their wives to cancer already this calendar year calling and asking, in essence, how we made it through Honey’s journey and death at the hands of cancer.  I’ve thought about that some, and, in addition to God ever-presence and love, I can identify four things that I’ll describe here and in the next three installments.

The most important thing is simply who Honey was.   She led the way.  She showed us, showed me how to do this.  She was a glass half-full person whereas I’m more the half-empty type.  We took her tack and it definitely was the right one.

My favorite uncle, an articulate and almost poetic preacher, used to say, “the older we get, the more like ourselves we become.” Though not obsessed or embarrassed about it, Honey never forgot nor took lightly the unmistakable hand of God in her life that began with a birth mother who chose adoption over abortion.  She never forgot to be grateful for her wonderful adoptive parents – who also adopted two others – and the charmed life she enjoyed for 61 years.  Her last two years were hard but not horrible, because as Uncle Glen would have said, “the older she got, the more like herself she became.”  She was grateful and joyful at having been “chosen” and blessed when her life could have turned out much differently. 

There was no pretense about Honey.  She was who she was and she was the same with everyone.  In a room full of smart people or the illiterate, rich or poor, with people who looked like us or otherwise, she treated all the same and typically gravitated to the seemingly “least of these.”  I observed this so many times in countless medical settings during her illness.  That’s just the way she was, she was joyful about it, and we all loved her for it. 

She could adjust to nearly any situation, have a good attitude about it (usually), and make the very best of it.  She was one of the most adaptable people I have ever known.  Although she was highly organized and had her usual, basic daily routine fairly well set, she didn’t mind altering it if necessary.  I suspect that was because she was unselfish to a fault, always considering the needs and well-being of others first. 

As I said earlier, Honey was not the out-front-type person.  She didn’t “command the room” but she sure could light up any room with her smile. Behind the scene, in the background and deep inside, she was a gentle and loving steel magnolia.  In the midst of life’s biggest challenge, life’s lowest place she became more and more like herself and it rubbed off on everyone around her.  (If she were reading this right now, she would look at me, frown in disbelief, and say “WHAT?”)

In our nearly 45 years of marriage, I was pretty much the leader of our family and she was good with that.  But in her illness, she stepped up – no, actually she became just more and more like herself – and we all were good with that.  The journey was easier because she was shining the light on the winding path and up the steep hill.

It makes one wonder how our becoming more and more like ourselves will serve us and those around us as we march toward the end of the road.  Hmm!

Here’s a wonderful Celebrating Grace Hymnal hymn (#678 – set to a fresh David Schwoebel tune) to which Honey “subscribed.”

Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy,

whose trust, ever childlike, no cares could destroy:

be there at our waking and give us, we pray,

Your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day.

Lord of all eagerness, Lord of all faith,

whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe:

be there at our labors and give us, we pray,

Your strength in our hearts, Lord, at the noon of the day.

Lord of all kindliness, Lord of all grace,

Your hands swift to welcome, Your arms to embrace:

be there at our homing and give us we pray,

Your love in our hearts, Lord, at the eve of the day.

Lord of all gentleness, Lord of all calm,

whose voice is contentment, whose presence is balm:

be there at our sleeping and give us, we pray,

Your peace in our hearts, Lord, at the end of the day.

               “Lord of All Hopefulness” – Jan Struther, 1931 (Oxford University Press)

 - Mark

Not to Sing, but to Say and Live

The Alleluias were plenteous Sunday – Easter and the first anniversary of Honey’s memorial service.  It seemed as though every other phrase was punctuated with a joyous “Alleluia” and rightly so.  Congregations at both Easter services I attended began by singing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.”  Toward the end of the third stanza of that hymn is the phrase “where’s thy victory, O grave?” It has appeared that way in every hymnal from which I have sung and led all my life.  But the Methodist Hymnal version is “where’s thy victory, boasting grave?”  I like that – an extra hint of resurrection trash talk!  And choirs in both churches ended the service singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.”  I could hardly contain myself when the Sanctuary Choir at First Baptist Church, Nashville sang it.  Wow – that majestic room, those wonderful singers, that magnificent organ!  Admittedly, the fact that I directed that choir thirty Easters in a row had something to do with how I heard it Sunday.

Christ is risen! 
He is risen, indeed! 
Alleluia!

In the past couple months, I have received calls from two other ministers of music whose wives have also died of cancer – Greg’s wife Gail died January 6 and Larry’s Sandy only a month ago.  With both I have been able to say with surety that I do know what they are going through.  Both asked some form of the same question – “how did you do it?”  Still stumbling around for answers, neither conversation went far until I mentioned to each the sustaining power that hymns provided for our journey during Honey’s illness and for me since her death about this time last year.  I had to admit to learning that knowing a hymn or being able to sing or lead it was not the same thing as living it, or better said, living into it. For too many of us, hymns have become so familiar that we don’t “hear” them anymore. But through Honey’s illness/death, the experience helping build a hymnal, and the undeniable grace of God, hymns have ministered to me as never before and I am grateful.  I pointed Greg and Larry to some of my favorites:

Great Is Thy Faithfulness
Sometimes a Light Surprises
All the Way My Savior Leads Me
Like a Mother with Her Children
O Worship the King
We Walk by Faith
Like a River Glorious
How Lovely, God, How Lovely
Sing Praise to God Who Reigns Above
If You Will Only Let God Guide You
How Can I Keep from Singing
In Deepest Night

Spending time in a good hymnal is not unlike discovering a new Book of Psalms (the Hebrew hymnal). Hymns, like the psalms, have multi-stanzas, speak the many moods of Christian life, and are strong enough to be studied.  For almost a decade I have enjoyed memorizing hymns, not to sing, but to say and live.  I have discovered that in saying them, new riches reveal themselves in lines sung mostly mindlessly through the years.  They become good food for the soul and balm for the aching heart. 

If you have a hymnal I encourage you to spend some focused time in it.  If you don’t have hymnal or need a fresh version, I certainly recommend the Celebrating Grace Hymnal – www.celebrating-grace.com.   It has been interesting to see people order a Hymnal when they order a copy of the Notes From Susie book.  Most of the hymns quoted in the latter are included in the former.  Many of those hymns were in the “God, the Sustainer” section of the Hymnal, where Honey and I camped a good bit during our two-year journey.

Here is one of those stanzas I sang past countless times –

“Thy bountiful care what tongue can recite?

It breathes in the air, it shines in the light,

   it streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,

 and sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.” 

                        O Worship the King – Robert Grant, 1833

The mental image of God’s bountiful care washing over all His creation and individually over me calls forth yet another “Alleluia!”

Mark

P.S. You could never convince me that it was coincidental that Larry and I ran into one another at breakfast at a Collierville hotel the Sunday morning after Christmas 2015.  I hadn’t seen him in nearly ten years.