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