Showing posts with label funerals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funerals. Show all posts

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Grandpa

I was honored to be asked to say a few words at my grandfather's funeral on Thursday. He lived to be 99 years old and left quite a legacy. I thought you might be interested in reading the words I spoke. I am grateful to have had him in my life for so long.

Charles J. Whiston:

When I was 12 years old and in 7th grade, I had to give a speech about a famous person. The person I chose was my Grandpa, Charles J. Whiston. 

You see, even if we had not been related, I would have been taken with his humble beginnings, as a teenager toiling in the coal mines to help support his family, a young husband and father living and working in a coal camp, and the way he established himself as a police officer, then as sheriff, mayor, county commissioner, insurance agent, and even a congressional candidate. In his life he received many well-deserved accolades.

When we went out together, people recognized Grandpa and would shout out, “Hey, Charlie!” “Sheriff!”  and, “Hey, Mr. Whiston!” whether we were walking down High Street, popping into his office at the police department, at a WVU basketball game. or shaking hands at a local fair. 

From his stories and pictures, I knew he had encounters with well-known people such as presidents.To me, that made him famous, but it was his interactions with everyday people that had the biggest impact on me. Grandpa’s dazzling smile, twinkling blue eyes, and warm heart were for everyone.

Grandpa loved to tell stories, and we loved to hear them, whether it was about  busting up moonshine stills deep in the woods, or taking the local baseball team he coached to States. He held court in his chair, and Grandma would bustle around making sure he was comfortable, interjecting every once in a while, “Hey, Charlie, tell them the one about…” For as his bride of more than 77 years, they had not just grown old together but grown up together. His stories were her stories too.

Some of my favorite memories of Grandpa include going out to local restaurants like Ruby and Ketchy’s, admiring the beauty of Cooper’s Rock, and those days when he would tell John, Liz and me that we could sort the money in his massive spare change jar on the living room rug. We knew as we took an afternoon to spread out piles of nickels, dimes, pennies, quarters and the rare half dollar as the grown ups talked and laughed, we would go home with baggies full of treasure.

My sister Liz loved sharing music and faith with Grandpa, sitting together singing hymns as old as the hills. As Grandpa’s body aged, his light and faith did not dim, and that was ever so evident as the two of them would sing together.

My brother John had the pleasure of spending a lot of time with Grandpa and Grandma starting in college and all of these years since. He would go to their house for laundry and a nap on the couch, and he accompanied them to many, many WVU games. John tells the story of going to one game WITHOUT Grandpa and Grandpa and hoping they didn’t notice that the person being lifted over the heads of the spirited fans, body surfing through the crowd in the student section, was none other than their beloved grandson.

I am exceedingly and eternally grateful to have had a hands-on, loving grandpa who taught me much more than fame could ever do. He taught me by example the importance of knowing people’s names and stories, looking them in the eyes, and being generous with my smile. Because as much as I wanted to have a “famous” Grandfather whom I could brag about, I was much happier and more grateful to have a Grandpa with a twinkle in his baby blues, a lap for sitting on, a hearty laugh and a ready hug. When I think of words to describe Grandpa they are: gentle, generous, and genuine. 

YOU have your own special memories about Charlie Whiston, Grandpa, “Uncle,” or “Pop,” and how he impacted you during a long life centered around: FAITH, FAMILY, AND FRIENDS. 

His quiet FAITH grew in this church as he taught Sunday school decade after decade.

His FAMILY was his number one priority. He made frequent visits to our home, so my parents would never be too far from their WV roots. He loved the phone calls he shared each week with my dad when ringing up a big long distance bill was still a thing. He spent time each day enjoying the company of his son Charley Junior before his untimely death in 1997. And he loved his siblings mightily. I remember how he would get a tear in his eye just talking about the impact his sweet sister Eleanor had on him.

His FRIENDS were important to him from his first day to his last: intimate friends such as Coach Catlett whom you will hear from today, as well as the many people he encountered around Westover and Morgantown. Thank you for being his friend.

When we look at a life well lived, of almost 100 years, we see that, yes, some things do pass away: status, possessions, strength, and even this fragile tent we call the BODY. 

But oh, what remains! From Grandpa it is a legacy of love evidenced throughout this church today, especially among his many children and great grandchildren. It is his lifelong commitment to serving others, and his complete love of GOD. 

I think about one of the songs Grandpa and my sister Liz sung so beautifully together one of the last times we visited him. Of course Grandpa remembered all of the words because they had taken root in his heart many years ago.


1 I come to the garden alone,
2 While the dew is still on the roses,
3 And the voice I hear falling on my ear
4 The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.


In this life we are each able to spend time with a God who loves us and calls us His own. A God who gives us joy even when life is hard sometimes. And you don’t get to be 99 years old without experiencing hardship. We can’t stay in the garden with God at all times and the world tries to distract and keep us from going back because of work, worry, busy-ness, and petty concerns.

But TODAY, Charlie Whiston, Grandpa, gets to stay in the garden with Jesus. He was more than ready for this next stage of his eternal life. And the beauty is, now he’s not meeting with God ALONE, because he gets to be joined by his parents, siblings, many friends, his son Charley, his great grandson, and his wife.

And what a beautiful scene that must be!


Thank you.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Big League Parenting

I went to a beautiful funeral service on Friday for the long-time mayor of our town. She was a lovely lady who lived a good life. There is so much about her that I admired-- the way she humbly used her leadership skills to help our town, how she poured herself into the unique interests of each of her five grandchildren, and of course there was the beautiful relationship with her daughter that I witnessed when I saw them around town, always together. It's how I imagined my mom and I would be.

One story from the funeral really stuck with me, and it makes me tear up to think of it.

One of her grown sons shared that when he was around 9, he was excited to finally get to play baseball on the "big" baseball field in town. He was accustomed to his games being at local elementary schools, on very basic, grassy fields, but the "big" field had real dugouts, an announcer booth, and even a raised pitching mound. He could barely control his excitement.

But though the little boy tried his best, his first game in the "big league" was a total disaster. In particular, his pitching was terrible, and he was inconsolable on the way home. Like many of us, he looked for something to blame, and the pitching mound took the brunt of his wrath. He claimed it had thrown off his pitching.

As I listened to this story, I thought about what I would have done as a parent. Would I have told Jack and Margaret to quit trying to place blame? Would I have told them to just get a grip? To work on sportsmanship and being a more gracious loser? Would I have used it as a teachable moment to have them consider that maybe, if they were this upset, this sport wasn't for them? I'm guessing those would have been the directions I would have taken, and they wouldn't necessarily have been wrong.

But that's not what happened.

And what that little boy's parents did had more of an impact on him (and me!) than any lecture on sportsmanship ever could.

In the silent church we all waited to hear how the story ended.

The son looked up from the pulpit, and instead of a fifty year old, I saw a nine year old again as he finished his story. "A while later I heard something in the back yard. It was my mom and dad, both with shovels, digging up the grass, making me my own pitching mound."

Wow.

I love this story.

In life we just want to be supported and understood. These parents used a simple, wordless action to say, "We love you. We hear you. We stand behind you. We believe in you. You can count on us."

Isn't it amazing how a seemingly small, unexpected action over 40 years ago, can still teach us so much? And I'm guessing that the end of the story wasn't an ending at all for that 9 year old boy, who now has three kids of his own.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Friday Shorts

I was sitting in my office at work early this morning when a sweet man came in carrying a plate of deviled eggs. He was looking for a place to drop the eggs for a funeral reception at our church later in the day. I am not a picky eater, but deviled eggs are one of my least favorite foods. I don't like how they look, taste, and certainly not how they smell. I ushered him out as politely and quickly as possible.

My former students will tell you I can be sensitive about smell. Unfortunately, my B.O. meter is as accurate as my B.S. meter, which is to say... finely tuned. And don't even get me stared on tuna fish. I had a "no tuna" rule with the teenagers who would hang out in my classroom at lunchtime because much as I like to eat tuna, I don't want my classroom trash to smell like it all day long.

So, this dear man came in carrying a plate of deviled eggs quite early this morning. Oh, have I told you I was back at work after being home sick in bed all day yesterday? Ugh. Fortunately, the smell dissipated before I needed to take another sick day.

But this little post isn't about eggs; I think it's about funerals.

The funeral was for one of my mother's best friends. She was a lovely woman who died at age 82 after a long struggle with cancer. She was a huge Bible scholar and teacher, as well as a champion of  women's rights and social justice. She made us think, and in many ways served as a moral compass at our church, always listening, nodding, and pointing us back to grace.

I have been to a handful of funerals in our church in the year since Jack's service. All have been for older people, with grown kids and grand kids. As I sat there, I did not have flashbacks to Jack's service because, well, most of it is a blur to me, and the feel of a funeral for an elderly person is so entirely different from that of a child. Jack's and my mother's dying so young makes me think of what they missed out on, and that's hard.

But with this beloved woman, there was a real quality of completion and a life well lived. She will be missed greatly, as evidenced by the tears shed and the stories shared, but there's also an excitement that all those years of digging and studying were leading up to this moment. She is free from her cancer and can go right to the source of her devotion to gain rest, to gain answers, and perhaps to keep teaching!

I'm no expert on how all of this works, but that's how it seems to me today. Someday I will see it all clearly.

Oh, I skipped the deviled egg table and went straight to the desserts.