“The Gift” (Eugolgy for my father)

Given at the memorial service for my father and uncle, who both died within three weeks of each other in late 2003. The memorial service for the two brothers was held in the 150 year old historic Bethel Methodist Church in Princeton, MO. that they attended as children. The memorial service was held on May 17, 2004.

My father built things. He was a carpenter, and we were never ashamed of that. Today, we look in Southern California and see buildings he built, things he created, and we know there is some of what he built still around.

When my father was sick, my mother always stayed with him in the hospital. At first, she would stay all night, but then we found that, as he got more and more sick, she could go home after he fell asleep, and come back in the morning. One night I was there, and my father was awake, and for one night, one night over the 10 years he was sick, I stayed until he went to sleep and Mom went home.

We talked for a while, and at one point I said “Dad, you and mom have given me so much, so many gifts, and I don’t know how to repay you.” My dad just looked at me, so I said “It bothers me that I can’t repay those gifts, because of all the things I have, or know, those are the most valuable. And I don’t know how to repay you.” And my father answered me, and I’ll never forget what he said. My father looked at me, and he said: “huh.”

He said “huh” a lot, and I was never really satisfied with it. So I pressed on. “Dad, really, when I need to make a decision, and I don’t know what to do, when the answer comes its because of something you said. Or taught. Those things that I see in myself that I like the most come from you. Those are incredible gifts, and I don’t know how to repay you.”

And then my dad shrugged a little, and simply said: “You don’t repay a gift.”

And I said “huh.” Another lesson, another gift. He was right of course, you can’t repay a gift.

My father built things, but he didn’t just build things. Long after his hands had stopped building, he continued to build us, with stories and sayings, and an example we only aspire to.

Today we gather in the memory of two men, who were brothers, husbands, fathers, uncles and grandfathers. Throughout the years, we were given many gifts by them. Gifts, as my father said, that you don’t repay, because you don’t repay a gift.

But you can share a gift.

Father, we thank you for the opportunity to remember and honor two men here in this place, the place of their birth, in this church where as boys they came to worship. We thank you for those, who were with them then, who are with us now. And for those who came from far away, to come here, to honor them. And to honor you.

Father let not our sadness be confused with dispair. Let our memories of them, young and alive, be a taste of what we know they have now, while in Your Hands. Let our sadness be eased with the knowledge that at the last trump, those that are still alive will be gathered together with those who have left, to live forever, together, in Your presence.