On March 12, 2011, just two weeks ago, a real, live action hero passed from the shades of this dimly lit earth into the real, live land of Shining Reality. A hero on an eighty-nine-year camping trip folded up her sleeping bag and cast aside her tent forever. The frail, battleworn shell of my mother-in-law, Velva Kuhlman Doke, lay in a casket decorated with flowers from her grandchildren whose banner read "Real Live Action Hero." That's because she was- and not just to her grandchildren, but- it seems to me, after listening to a whole lot of people eulogizing her since that day- pretty much everybody who knew her. Those of you have been following this blog have read about her before. You have seen a picture of her wearing tall boots standing in a barn beside Bryson, one of her great-grandsons. If you have read Broken Jar: 365 Days on the Potter's Wheel, you read about her on her birthday, November 22. When the minister who performed her celebration ceremony came to talk to the family about what he should say, we all started speaking at once. Every now and then, we would alternately feel some compunction about interrupting and give raising our hands a go, but we were pretty much like little kids in school who have finally been asked a question we are SURE we know the right answer to: we bounced up and down in our seats and exclaimed, "Pick me! Pick me!" We all knew we had to perfect story to sum up her best quality, but we all learned that every story was better than the last. She was not a rowdy character full of mischief, as you might think by our overflowing need to tell these stories, but they were just as captivating to the imagination because she was really ...something else. She was like something from a storybook, made up a long time ago before such things as vanity and pride and looking out for Number One became virtues to attain to rather than vices to be ashamed of. To some she might have seem quite naive, but I'm not sure that's a fair assessment of why she lived the way she did. The fact that she didn't dwell on the sorry shape the world has gotten itself into or even the terrible pain she had to endure for the last few years of her life due to terrible osteoporosis doesn't mean that she wasn't aware of all these things. She just remembered a better way of living, and whether most of the world still responded quietly and positively or not to such things, she decided she would, and she did. In my estimation, this is no less than heroic. She was humble, always kind, never selfish, willing to walk into every new day with a smile and new hope, entirely thoughtful of others' needs and desires, brave, honest, and sweet. She was what Paul called, "a shining star in the universe." She always offered "hospitality without grumbling"-- just like Peter admonished all of us to do. She simply walked around living out scripture before our eyes and so, just as it is supposed to work, we all were always aware of the life of Jesus when we were around her. Now that she's gone, everyone in this family will have to find some way to gear up our loving each other by about 25% to make up for all she gave us. Here is a poem I began writing as she lay suspended between this life and the Next and concluded the day after she had left us. Of course, really, I have no idea if I am anywhere close to on target about what was going through her mind, but the way she was makes me think this must have been what it was like for her to feel all of us gathered around her, our hero, and to be so accustomed to doing all she could to comfort us, but to see ahead of her the Grand Fruition of all she had lived for. Should she stay for us, or could she really be allowed to walk on ahead into the Everlasting Arms and leave us to Someone Else?
Breaking Camp
You look both ways before you proceed
With one foot in Heaven and one still on earth.
You see us back here steeped in our hearts' need,
But ahead there is Glory and that promise of new birth.
Taking leave of this place feels strange to your feet-
Walking away from all you have known;
The faces and embraces back there are so sweet,
But ahead lies the reaping of all that you've sown:
The harvest of the seeds of humility appear;
The sheaves of service and sacrifice await.
But still...those dear voices, their eyes, and their tears
Will be out of your reach once you enter that gate!
But the call of the Lover of your soul rings so clear,
The tolling of the invitation so telling,
The welcome of His arms snuffs out every fear,
So you venture ahead to that Home so compelling.
Now you know it was worth all the ripping and tearing
That had to be borne to reach that bright shore.
Ah! Now it's accomplished, and you know all your caring
Is securely preserved forevermore.
Wrapped up securely in your Father's embrace,
Your soul arises from the bedclothes that bind.
You commit to the Shepherd the tears on each face-
Your camping all finished, and your tent left behind.
In loving memory of Mother, Velva Doke 11/22/1921-3/12/2011
You look both ways before you proceed
With one foot in Heaven and one still on earth.
You see us back here steeped in our hearts' need,
But ahead there is Glory and that promise of new birth.
Taking leave of this place feels strange to your feet-
Walking away from all you have known;
The faces and embraces back there are so sweet,
But ahead lies the reaping of all that you've sown:
The harvest of the seeds of humility appear;
The sheaves of service and sacrifice await.
But still...those dear voices, their eyes, and their tears
Will be out of your reach once you enter that gate!
But the call of the Lover of your soul rings so clear,
The tolling of the invitation so telling,
The welcome of His arms snuffs out every fear,
So you venture ahead to that Home so compelling.
Now you know it was worth all the ripping and tearing
That had to be borne to reach that bright shore.
Ah! Now it's accomplished, and you know all your caring
Is securely preserved forevermore.
Wrapped up securely in your Father's embrace,
Your soul arises from the bedclothes that bind.
You commit to the Shepherd the tears on each face-
Your camping all finished, and your tent left behind.
In loving memory of Mother, Velva Doke 11/22/1921-3/12/2011
