Janna's View

Connections.

What we all crave.

What we,

as human beings,

need.

At least I know I do.

Today, I worked on a connection to my past

that is connecting me to my present.

I cleaned my great-grandfather’s saddlebags.

My current church is doing a church history project.

It just so happens that my great-grandpa was the pastor of my church

86 years ago.

So I was taking some photos of the freshly cleaned saddlebags to

possibly be used on a church timeline.

When my Great-Grandpa Caviness first started in the ministry,

he was a circuit-riding Methodist preacher.

And he carried his saddlebags with him on horseback.

I never met my Great-Grandpa Caviness.

But I wonder

(and wish I could ask him)

what all he actually did carry with him

on horseback

in those saddlebags.

There’s the obvious need for a horseback-riding

preacher to have saddlebags.

Saddlebags to carry his Bible.

Saddlebags to carry his hymnbooks.

Saddlebags to carry his sermons to the churches.

(Or did he read and prepare his sermons WHILE he was riding horseback)?

Saddlebags to carry the Methodist Discipline.

Saddlebags to carry his paperwork.

Saddlebags to carry whatever he needed to preach the Word of God to the people.

Did he keep track and write down on the papers carried in those bags the number and names of folks who asked Jesus into their hearts?

The number and names of folks who were baptized?

The number and names of those who got married?

The number and names of the babies who were christened?

The number and names of those confirmed?

The names of those who were sick?

The names of those who died?

The number of funerals?

Because,

from the beginning,

records were necessary.

After all, they had charge conference –

well, quarterly conference -

4 times a year – each charge had conference –

with all of those reports needed.

Did he carry extra clothing?

(Because surely the way was dusty at times).

Did he carry some kind of cloak?
(Because surely the way was rainy at times).

Did he carry the elements to serve Holy Communion
or did the church members set that up for him?

Did he carry food for himself or count on his church members for his meals?

(I have no idea how far or long he rode).

Did he carry food for his horse or count on his church members for his horse’s meals?

I mean, just how much could he have fit into those 2 small bags?

And how did he prioritize what would go and what would not?

So today, as I was cleaning the saddlebags

that my great-grandpa held so very many times,

all of these thoughts were circling my mind.

But what I know for sure

is that

felt

connection.

A connection that not only runs through my biological bloodline

from my great-grandfather

to my grandfather

to my father

to me.

But also a connection that runs through the

“bloodline” of salvation

from God

through our Lord Jesus Christ

straight to me.

I may not ever know what my Great-Grandpa Caviness

carried with him on horseback

in his saddlebags.

But I know for sure what he carried in his heart.

He carried the

“old, old story

of Jesus and His Love.”

He carried a desire to see folks ask Jesus into their hearts.

He carried Hope.

And today, as I spent a couple of hours cleaning the grime away from his saddlebags,

and taking photos of them situated on the wood we salvaged from his barn,

that Hope that my Great-Grandpa Caviness carried around with him

so very many years ago

reached 3 generations down

to me.

That Hope.

And those connections.

Today, they were palpable.

So today was a day that I cried.

I didn’t wake up that way.

The day started fine.

But it ended up being a day of…

memories…

…and reminders…

…and sadness…

…and thankfulness.

It ended up okay.

But it was just one of those days.

Someone told me once that if my heart was truly healed that I shouldn’t be having days when I miss him and the life we had so much.

I very politely smiled,

remembered that this person was in a decades long marriage,

and had NO CLUE what it is like to lose a spouse

or how to live after the loss.

The truth is that I don’t have many days like that any more.

I miss him

EVERY

SINGLE

DAY

but I rarely,

after 4 years,

have a day when it is just painful all day long.

I was good until Sunday School was over

and everyone was gathering for Worship.

I looked up and saw the pulpit and the cross

and for some reason,

memories of Rob in his pulpits filled my mind.

There was no trigger that started the memories.

No one said anything.

It just happened.

I steeled myself,

smiled at the memories parading through my mind,

and tried to put my mind back on the task at hand…

…checking my dad’s sugar to see if he needed a small snack

between Sunday School and Worship.

Luke sat down beside me.

Before taking his place in the choir,

Wesley told me he was going to be reading the Scripture.

Church started.

I was fine.

That is,

until the choir started singing

Hymn # 593

“Here I Am, Lord.”

That song

(a favorite hymn of Rob’s and mine and one we,

with him accompanying us with his guitar, sang together often)

coupled with the flood of memories that had presented themselves a little bit earlier

caused the tears to start.

In that moment, I just missed him so very much.

I missed him.

I missed his guitar playing.

I missed him.

I missed singing with him.

I missed him.

I missed the ministry we had together.

I missed him.

I missed knowing that we both meant every word of that song.

I missed him.

I missed my Rob.

I’ve learned,

over the last 4 years,

to not try to stop the tears.

Instead, I focus on trying to not sob.

So, after allowing all of the memories attached to the song to have free reign in my mind during the entire duration of the song,

I regained my composure and was relieved when the next thing in the order of worship was Children’s Time.

Little people for me to focus on and smile at their cuteness as they learned a song I learned and taught in VBS long, long ago.

Whew!

I was okay again.

I was fine through the offering

and during the special music.

And then came the Scripture reading…

…by my Wesley.

I had not looked at the Scripture ahead of time.

And since I had only regained my composure a little bit before,

I was just focusing on enjoying my boy read.

Until I realized what Scripture he was reading.

Psalm 146.

I listened to him read.

My son.

My 6 feet 5½ inches tall son,

who no longer has a father on this earth,

reading Psalm 146.

He was doing a great job

but I could tell by the way he was reading that he was sight reading –

that he had not gone over it beforehand

(he confirmed my suspicions later on).

I realized he didn’t know what was coming.

I didn’t dare look at the bulletin to see if he would read all the way to verse 9.

I just sat there,

watching his face,

listening to the Word of God coming from my boy,

and trying not to let the tears start again.

And he read all the way through verse 10.

The first part of verse 9 says,

“The LORD watches over the foreigner

and sustains the fatherless and the widow…”

As I heard those words coming from

my fatherless son,

I could no longer stop the trickling tears.

But I did keep from sobbing.

And I was PROUD of my boy.

I couldn’t help thinking that his dad would be too.

And I thought of how true it is.

The LORD has sustained us!

For all 4 years, He has sustained us all!

So, again, I regained my composure and settled in for the sermon.

It was a great sermon but it was hard to keep focused because it seemed all I could hear this morning was that “W” word.

Widow.

That rarely happens to me anymore.

I now,

usually,

take that word in stride.

It rarely stabs at my heart now the way it used to.

It is what it is.

And a widow I am.

I usually do not get stuck on that word now.

But today,

with the song and its memories,

and with my fatherless son reading

the Scripture about the fatherless,

it seemed to sting every time David, in his sermon,

said the word

widow.

However, I made it through the sermon only letting tears fall once more.

When church was over, I focused on the next thing.

Charge Conference this afternoon.

My dad loves going to Charge Conference.

And I want him to get to go as long as he’s able.

So, off we went.

I was good.

Not thinking about the morning.

Just focused on getting my daddy where he wanted to be.

Charge Conference started.

I was still good.

And then Ray (our district superintendant) told a story.

A story about a man who sold some land and set up perpetual Christmas gifts with the proceeds. Can’t remember for sure but I think the year this man died was 1890 something. Ray told the story that to this day, every single Christmas,

the gifts have continued.

Every single Christmas,

every WIDOW in that community receives a gift.

I tried not to cry.

And I mostly succeeded.

It just meant so much to me

that someone cared enough to do that for those widows.

Charge Conference moved on.

My dad was asked to help serve communion.

I was also asked.

To help serve communion with my dad was so very special

and my day with my dad will probably be a blog post on its own

after I steal some photos from the district FB page!

With Charge Conference wrapping up,
I was good.

My dad was thrilled to see some of his friends.

Some of them told me how much he had meant to them.

My dad had gotten to help serve communion,

something he loves to do.

And, even when Ray said the "W" word when mentioning that clergy widows were being prayed for, I was okay.

It was good.

I was good.

And then Ray announced the number to the last hymn.

#593

“Here I Am, Lord”

Truthfully, my very first thought as I was getting a hymnbook for my dad was,

“Really, God?”

“REALLY!?”

I determined I was NOT going to cry this time.

I love that song.

I’ve sung it many times without crying since Rob died.

It’s still a special song to me,

even without Rob.

And, even though my voice isn’t what it used to be,

I still love singing that song.

I wanted to sing it today.

I cherish the words to that song.

I willed myself to sing the song and NOT cry.

It didn’t work.

I didn’t even make it completely through the first verse.

In fact, the tears came faster than they had this morning.

A reprieve came during the 2^nd verse.

Ray came over and asked my dad if he would say the closing prayer.

My mind was occupied with making sure Ray knew he would have to help Daddy up the stairs – literally help support and almost lift him as he climbed the stairs.

With my mind occupied on the task at hand,

the tears stopped

and I was relieved.

I actually sang the last chorus.

It was a small victory.

But a victory nonetheless.

I loved my Rob so very much.

And to the same degree, I have missed him so very much.

The person who told me that if my heart was truly healed that I shouldn’t be having days of missing him was so off the mark.

That person doesn’t know that, even though my heart is healed and even has room for another in it, I will never stop missing my Rob.

And, although it’s rare now,

I will probably always have a few crying days here and there.

Especially on a day when I have to hear the word

widow

no less than 15 times in a 5 hour period.

And I will always be grateful that he was my Rob!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Below, I am reposting a blog entry I wrote

on Sunday, Sept. 1, 2013 – 2 full years ago – about the song, “Here I Am, Lord” and memories.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Memories - Old and New

Today is September 1, 2013. The 20^th of this month will mark 2 years since my Rob died. My children have lived fatherless and I have been widowed for 712 days now.

The memories of and from my marriage to my Rob will never go away.

They are as much a part of me as is my breathing.

But more than not now, they make me smile and sometimes make me even break out into a full blown laugh as I remember.

On some days, the memories pound on the walls of my world.

On some days, the memories weave in and out of my life seamlessly as the day goes on.

On some days, the memories present themselves in a more subtle fashion.

But they’re always there – whether it’s in the way one of my children smiles at me or whether it’s coming across a note he wrote me as I’m continuing the process of going through everything.

The difference, though, that I’ve noticed in the last little while is that now as the memories make their way into my day, thoughts of gratitude for the moments I have lived with my Rob and the family we had are what comes to mind most.

This morning in church, we sang this song.

“Here I Am, Lord.” A song that Rob and I basically adopted as one of the “theme songs” for our upcoming life of ministry. It was sung at the first Annual Conference I attended with my Rob when he received his “License To Preach.” Rob was “on loan” to the Western NC Conference while he was a student at Duke Divinity School so this Annual Conference was held at Lake Junaluska. It was such a fun week for us. I was finished teaching for the year. We would be moving into the parsonage of Rob’s first church appointment soon after this conference. Our dreams were being realized. He was so happy. And it was wonderful. One of the lines in this song – “I will go, Lord, if You lead me. I will hold Your people in my heart” was especially meaningful to us as we started our journey of ministry and all of the moves we knew it would involve. Rob used this song often in his ministry and until the nodules on my vocal chords silenced my singing voice, we sang this song as a duet often with Rob playing his guitar for us.

I’ve heard this song many times over the years in many settings. And since Rob died, the tears have flowed freely and often as I’ve heard it. But today, as I sang the words as well as I could and listening to the words when I could not get my singing voice to work, it was as if God was smiling with me as I remembered watching my Rob cross the stage to receive his “license to preach.” And I didn’t cry. I just smiled. And I was grateful that we had what we had. I am grateful that Rob and I “went where God led” and that we “held His people (at every appointment) in our hearts.” And I am grateful that since Rob died, I have continued to “go where He has led me.” And I still “hold all of His people in my heart.”

Tonight, as I was trying to find something on television to play in the background as I worked on bills (fun night, huh?), I came across the movie; “We Are Marshall.” And again, I just smiled.

Rob and I started taking our kids to a place at the beach during the winter months. It has an indoor water park and we couldn’t afford it in the summer so it became a winter tradition that I have continued to maintain. We could only afford a couple of nights so we always tried to make the most of every minute the water parks were open. As soon as we would arrive and get the luggage to the room, Rob would take all of the kids down to swim and I would always stay in the room and unpack. And because I love having it in the background, I always turned on the television as I unpacked. One year, a movie caught my attention because of the East Carolina connection and I watched it. It was “We Are Marshall.” Marshall’s football team died in a plane crash on their way home from playing ECU and the movie chronicles how the college dealt with the grief and rebuilt the football program.

It was a great movie. I watched it again tonight (still haven’t finished the bills) and just like this morning, I didn’t cry. I just smiled at the memories it brought back of our winter get-aways and all of the fun we would have on those trips. And I was and am grateful we had those moments as a family.

My children and I have made many new memories since Rob died. And even though they miss him still, they are doing well. Nothing can ever replace what we have all lost but I am grateful to God that happiness has found its way back into the lives of my babies. And, even though I certainly still have my bad days, I am grateful I am not stuck in the quagmire of grief that overcomes so many. I have been very intentional in my (and our) grief process to not let this happen.

I will forever feel blessed that I married my Rob and made a family with him. I will smile when I hear “Here I Am, Lord” and I will smile when I happen across a movie that reminds me of him. But, as I enter into this month – the month that will mark 2 years - I am ready to make and add more new memories to the ones already cataloged in my mind. And I look forward to having many more moments - old and new - that will make me smile.