Courage.
It’s one of those words that we tend to toss around rather thoughtlessly, without weighing what the word really means. And when we do think about it, we almost always think about it in far too restrictive terms … as something that is demonstrated on the battlefield but not so much in the byways of everyday life.
But I am thinking a lot about courage in the wake of the funeral (yesterday) of an amazing guy named Gary Green, who was a firefighter here in Racine for many years before retiring and moving to western Wisconsin with his wife Linda. Gary and his family belonged to Holy Communion Lutheran Church, and that’s how Kathy and I knew them … and came admire them and enjoy their company. Gary was one of those incredible salt-of-the-earth kind of guys who was solid as a rock in every way but with an exceptionally tender, generous heart and sly sense of humor. The more you knew him the more you loved him- and when you think about it, that’s one of the best compliments you can pay to someone. Consider the converse, in which someone initially makes a big splash, only to reveal as time goes by how shallow or self-centered they are. The longer you were with Gary, the more you wished that the world could be populated with a lot more Gary Greens. And one of the best things about Gary was that he had chosen to devote his life to being a firefighter – which requires selflessness and courage that most of us can scarcely imagine.
Gary and Linda had been looking forward to many years of blissful retirement together, surrounded by their children and grandchildren …. until a most unwanted intruder – Cancer – upended their plans in the ugliest possible fashion. The word that was used again and again by both family members and friends was cheated, and there is no better word for what it feels like when one’s plans are so brutally torn apart.
But if there is any shining ‘good’ that emerged from this, it is the story of Gary’s stunning courage in the face of this – and the courage demonstrated by his family as well. Not that they were fearless in the face of this foe, for there was plenty to fear, and to have been without fear would have been foolish. But they did not let their fear paralyze them- or poison them- or cause them to withdraw behind drawn drapes. They stood together, unbowed- unbeaten- bound together in the fiercest sort of love for each other. And as they said in Gary’s obituary (one of the most beautiful I have ever read), the moment Gary died, his Cancer died with him. For me, it brought to mind the stirring words of John Donne: “Death be not proud, though some have called thee mighty- for thou are not so.”
I also think about the Courage that Gary’s family has demonstrated in being so open and honest about this experience. Many people in this situation choose to present a carefully buffered face to the world, sharing only their most positive feelings and keeping their vulnerabilities hidden away – and that’s certainly every person’s perogative. But I for one appreciate how Gary’s family has let the rest of us into the midst of their sorrow and suffering. It takes courage to be that honest and open about one’s own frailty – but that’s really the only way that your loved ones can really walk with you.
During Gary’s funeral yesterday, I was also mindful of the courage it took for his dear friend Jeff Barrow – now Bishop Jeff Barrow (formerly the senior pastor at Holy Communion) – to stand in the pulpit and deliver one of the most heartfelt and moving funeral homilies I have ever heard. As he shared on Facebook, to do that on behalf of a good friend is a supreme honor- but what an intimidating burden of responsibility as well. I really loved how Jeff allowed us into his own sorrow and bewilderment- before offering a radiant word of promise.
And speaking of supreme honors, Kate, Kathy and I were so privileged to provide the most of the music for the service – which included several songs that Gary and Linda and the family had listened to in Gary’s last hours on earth …. including “Softly and Tenderly, Jesus is calling” ….. and “His Eye is on the Sparrow, and I know He watches me.” Kate and Kathy have always sung “Sparrow” so beautifully, but I have never heard them sing it more gorgeously or sensitively than they did at yesterday’s funeral. And I still don’t know how Kate managed to sing “Jesus Loves Me/ O How He Loves You and Me” as beautifully as she did yesterday, given the sort of grief she was feeling. And I was especially glad that the family requested that we sing a Steve Green song called “Rest” that I’m pretty sure we have not sung in at least fifteen years. This song is from our “How Sweet the Sound” CD and evidently it brought a lot of comfort to them – as it did to us as we sang it again all these years later, but this time with these words taking on a very different meaning:
Rest. The Lord is near …. Refuse to fear …. Enjoy His Love.
Trust. His Mighty power… fills every hour …. of all your days.
When we first began singing this song – and then recorded it so many years ago – I don’t think any of us had thought about the meaning of those words in the proverbial “valley of the shadow of death.” Singing it yesterday for our friend’s funeral brought a moment of powerful clarity- that such words of promise and hope are meant for exactly these moments in life that seem so very dark – when we need our courage the most.
(Pictured at the top: one of the fire department vehicles that was parked outside of Holy Communion during Gary’s funeral. Many of his colleagues were on hand to pay tribute to their beloved comrade.)
Thank you for your beautiful words. Caritas’ music has been with our family throughout our entire lives, during the joyful and the painful parts. I, personally, have listened to “Rest” in times that I was unsure about the future, while I was pregnant and literally needed to rest, during doubtful stages, and during my Dad’s death. The song is beautiful, especially when sung by you, and can adapt to several different situations. On behalf of my family, we thank you, and are honored that you have always been willing to be apart of our lives.
We should be thanking you and your family, Caitlin.
Eloquently stated….we all are better people for having Gary Green as a friend. Thank you again to Gary’s beautiful family for sharing him with us and his last 5 weeks.
In some ways, that was the ultimate generosity, wasn’t it? That they were willing to allow friends to share in Gary’s final days. And yes, you’re right- we’re better for having known Gary.
I was blessed to hear Caritas sing at the Kenosha Pops Christmas Concert in 2010, in a beautiful arrangement of “Do You Hear What I Hear.” (I have that recording on the Pops Christmas CD as well — I listen to that and conduct to it every year.) I know all too well what it’s like for cancer to get in the way — cancer is what claimed my father’s body, as well as that of a close friend’s grandfather who was like a grandfather to me. If I’ve learned anything from my experience, it’s that sometimes life throws you curveballs, and you just have to make the best of every situation you face, learn from it, and move forward from it into a better future.