CHRIST
IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter…
©
Ida
Belle Paterson called last night. She had finished reading “your book, and it
had your telephone number in it, so I just decided to call.” She didn’t say
which book, and I don’t recall that my phone number is in any of them, but that
doesn’t matter. We had talked by phone several times after George died, but
then… you keep forgetting to call…
Helen
and I used to meet George and Ida Belle at the Ambassador Inn in Wisconsin
Dells, less frequently than we would have liked. It was a convenient meeting
spot, half-way between Iowa City, Iowa, where they lived, and Iron Mountain,
MI, where we lived.
The
Dells is a tourist spot—water parks and duck boats and all that. We didn’t “do”
anything there, though. We just talked and looked at photos, got caught up on
families and insights.
As
we get deeper into winter, the friends of spring and summer become all the more
important. They share our memories. They are chapters in our biographies.
There
is a poignant episode of M*A*S*H where Col. Potter tells a reporter that he
loves and respects the bright young surgeons and nurses with whom he works, but
he is lonely. He is the only one of his generation. No one else in his unit
shares his memories.
George
and Ida Belle shared our memories.
George
spent most of his career in Iowa City, first as the Director of The Wesley
Foundation campus ministry at the Univ. of Iowa, then as Chaplain of University
Hospital, as a Supervisor of Clinical Pastoral Education, and as a professor in
the School of Religion. Ida Belle raised their four children and worked in a
doctor’s office. They befriended us when we lived in Iowa City while I did
graduate work at the university.
After
we moved back to Illinois, we didn’t see each other for around 20 years. But when
we followed the grandchildren to Mason City, IA, we took up our friendship
again. We had just gotten started on getting caught up with one another when
grandson Joe was diagnosed with liver cancer, at 15 months of age. He and Katie
spent most of the next year at Children’s Hospital, part of University Hospital
in Iowa City, while Patrick worked in Mason City and Helen and I took care of
four-year-old Brigid there.
Without
hesitation, George and Ida Belle became surrogate parents to Katie and Patrick
and surrogate grandparents for Joe. They often kept me in their home when I was
at the hospital, too. They helped us all through some very difficult times with
the grace of hospitality and presence.
Little
Joey knew immediately that these were his friends. One day early in his
hospital year, when they came to support Patrick and Katie through the
difficult days of diagnoses and treatment plans, he became quite agitated. He
could barely talk, but he finally communicated to his mother that he wanted his
pants. He was just in a diaper. His friends had come to visit. He knew he
should wear pants for such an occasion.
I
struggle now with how to conclude. We no longer meet friends at The Dells.
George is dead. So what’s the unifying theme for these thoughts on friendship?
I’ll turn to grandchildren, the source of most of my unifying themes.
One
morning when we lived in Mason City, IA, I took Brigid to kindergarten. It was
extremely cold. That didn’t matter to the school officials. They did not let
children into the building until the bell unless the temperature was twenty
below. Otherwise they were to stand in line outside at the appropriate door.
“In line” meant their placed their backpacks in a line to hold their place
while they ran around on the playground. I told Brigid I would keep the heater
running in the car and when we saw the other children starting into the
building, then she could go join them.
“Oh,
no, Grandpa. I need to be with my friends.”
“But
it’s cold out there. What will you do?”
“We’ll
chase each other.”
So,
in conclusion, two lessons from grandchildren: 1] A good host wears pants. 2] At
any age, no matter how cold it is, it’s important to chase around with your
friends.
JRMcF
The
“place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s
Upper Peninsula [The UP], where life is defined by winter even in the summer!
[This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] Having met and
married while at IU in Bloomington, IN, we became Bloomarangs in May of 2015,
moving back to where we started, closing the circle. We no longer live in the
land of winter, but I am in the winter of my years, and so I am still trying to
understand Christ in winter.
I
tweet as yooper1721.
Joe’s
mother, Katie Kennedy, is the rising star in YA lit. [She is also our
daughter.] She is published by Bloomsbury, which also publishes lesser authors,
like JK Rowling. Her latest book is, What
Goes Up. It’s published in hardback, paperback, audio, and electronic, from
B&N, Amazon, etc.
Speaking
of writing, my most recent book, VETS, about
four homeless and handicapped Iraqistan veterans, is available from Amazon,
Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Powell’s, etc. It’s published by Black Opal Books.
Helen thinks that’s the one Ida Belle read.
My
book, NOW THAT I HAVE CANCER I AM WHOLE:
Reflections on Life and Healing for Cancer Patients and Those Who Love Them is
published by AndrewsMcmeel. It is available in paperback, ebook, audio, Czech,
and Japanese.
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