Yesterday was the funeral of Daniel Conner, age 26 – Events don’t get much sadder than that.
Tonight was the 25th anniversary celebration of our dear friends Lynn and Walter.
I can’t think of the week where we have been so forcefully reminded of that life contains both sorrows and joys. . . and if life is going to contain bewildering sorrows that we can’t begin to understand, thank goodness for the heartwarming joys which are part of life as well.
Tonight’s celebration was a surprise of sorts for Lynn. Walter told her that something was going to happen, but she was led to think that it was going to be something small and simple. But no, Walter had arranged for Java Vino in downtown Racine to be the site of the party, and dozens of their friends were gathered to join in the celebration. And in a real stroke of genius, Walter conveyed the location of the event to Lynn only by plugging the coordinates into the GPS of her car. . . and she had to trust that the car would take her to the site of the party – which it did.
It was a great evening of fun and good food- and on a screen in the back of the room was a video montage of entertaining photos, some from their respective childhoods and all kinds of great shots from throughout their 25 years of marriage. . . including some shots from their wedding day in which they look like they’re twelve years old, if they’re a day.
One of my most vivid memories of the early days of our friendship with Lynn and Walter- which dates back 20 years to the start of my time at Holy Communion – was one night when we listened to the tape of their wedding service, and specifically the wedding processional, which Lynn had described to us as a complete disaster. And then when they played the tape, we had to nod our heads in amazed agreement. I don’t remember now what the piece of music was- but then again, it was played so abominably that one could scarcely identify it from listening to it. I’m not sure just what the problem was, but it sounded for all the world like the organist’s music had blown off the music stand and he or she was trying to scoop it up with one hand while continuing to play ( or attempting to play ) with the other. For long stretches of the processional, and especially during the climax of it when Lynn herself was walking down the aisle- the organist was playing with one finger – and even then, many of the notes were painful clinkers. And Lynn talked about walking down that aisle thinking to herself, “this is supposed to be the most beautiful moment of my life.” And the organist sounds like she’s playing the organ with her feet. I don’t recount the story to make fun of whoever that was who was struggling so terribly- nor to make light of what I’m sure was some real disappointment on Lynn’s part – but rather to say that in the end all of those wedding day details that seem so desperately important at the time don’t matter one bit in the big picture. What matters so much more is that here they are, 25 years later -with that fractured processional now just a very distant memory – a bit battered by some of the challenges that life has thrown them but far from beaten down. . . standing firm in their love for each other in a way that is truly inspiring to all of us who love them. That’s what counts- not a poorly played processional or the bridesmaid gowns were ordered in mauve instead of rose. We own a book that most brides should own titled “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff – And It’s ALL Small Stuff.”
The card we gave to Lynn and Walter was so fitting – and I wish I could remember the exact wording on it . . . but the gist of it was that Happiness does not come because life goes perfectly. Happiness comes when we manage to look past life’s imperfections, whatever they may be, and embrace the beauty of life that’s still there. Lynn and Walter have been dealt a tough hand, but have dealt with it so well . . . far better than most of us would have, I dare say.
And yet, Lynn was right to point out tonight in her end-of-the- evening remarks that they have managed to do what they have because of their friends and family. In fact, she evoked the image of “it takes a village to raise a child” and said that in a sense it has taken a village to sustain them through these last few years since Walter’s MS diagnosis. . . just like a village has helped Val and Bob Conner through the early days of their loss and will continue to be with them through the days and weeks and months and years ahead.
That’s our calling, more than anything . . . to be Village People.
pictured: Lynn making her remarks at tonight’s celebration, with Walter listening happily.