My Last Few Days

Jon graduated from seminary today. Here are the last few days:

Thursday: I drove Jon down to Columbus to meet my father-in-law at $tarbuck$. He arrives and we go out to dinner while waiting for his bags to arrive from Chicago. We go back to Newark and Jon goes to work on his Approval essays while I do a Wal-Mart run and some light cleaning. We head to church to proofread things for Jon and get home at 11. I do three sinkfuls of dishes and clean the counters. At midmight, I poured straight bleach on the countertops. It made the house smell icky (and yes, I did ventilate the house [though not the kitchen — bad Jen] while doing it) but it got the stains off my counters. I get to bed around 2 a.m.

Friday: Up at 6:45 to get Ray (my father-in-law) and Jon and I out the door to Columbus for Jon’s class picture and meetings. I head to $tarbuck$ for a bagel and a Frappucino. (I needed the caffeine, OK?) Head back to the sem and meet up with a few people. Jon’s advisor takes us out to lunch and then Jon and his advisor meet. We get back to Newark at 3:45 and hurriedly do the last of the cleaning and dinner prep before Bill and Judy arrive at 5 for dinner. (I cooked much of it a few days ahead of time.) Dinner goes well (my first time entertaining, so nerve-wracking for me) and we chill and head back to Wal-mart to get bookcases. In bed at 11 and asleep at 11:45.

Saturday: Up at 6:30 (!!!!) and got Jon, Ray, and I dressed, pressed, and on the road by 8. We get to the sem at 9 and mill around and find seats for the Baccalaureate Eucharist. Eucharist was about the level worship normally is at Jon’s internship site — and this was *celebratory*. There was more prelude music (mostly to give the MACM students a chance to show off) but the worship formality and enthusiasm was about the same, which is a compliment to St. Paul’s because they worship with *GUSTO*. The sermon was hysterically funny — it was Dr. Croy preaching and he has a rather… interesting way of incorporating pop culture stuff into his sermons. His sermon last year on John 14:6 was related to “Wayne’s World” and this one was on the “you are the Son of God” passage in Matthew where Peter gets it and later rebukes Jesus for talking of His impending suffering. (The second the sermon gets posted, I’ll link it on here, OK?) For lunch, we went to the Golden Corral (buffet food — LOTS of it) and made our way to Mees Hall for Commencement. It was an OK ceremony and I got pictures of Jon getting his diploma. We milled around and socialized afterward. We then went to the apartments, got Sable (who was being worked on this weekend by a fellow student who was a Volvo mechanic and fixed her for about 1/3 of what it would have been otherwise), and bade Ray adieu. He had offered to take us to dinner (and I sort of wished we’d just gone for coffee) but we were tired and peopled out, so we returned home.

Lost and Found

I was (finally!!!!!) cleaning my study today when I picked up my Bible from Urbana 2000. I noticed that things were stuck in the pages and I pulled them out. The “things” happened to be two funeral cards from two of the people I knew who died during my junior year of high school. One was Mrs. Cooke, my 8th grade English teacher and the other was my friend Gabe Maze. When I’d switched over to my Urbana Bible after coming back, I’d stuck them in certain spots and I guess I forgot to remove them. I thought about them a year ago and wondered where they had gone. Praise God that they are found.

Mrs. Cooke’s card is stuck in Jeremiah 29:11-13 because she had always encouraged us to follow our dreams. The story of the placement of Gabe’s card is this:

The night of his funeral, I was going to put the card in a spot in my Bible. I was in tears and I decided to open it up and see where I wound up. Well… I opened it to John 14:1-4: “Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know” I stuck it there.

Granted, I could have opened my Bible to a passage talking about the flames of hell or something; but I think the Lord knew that I needed comfort at that point and the message was *exactly* what I needed to hear.

Driving

For those of you who don’t know, I’m 23 and have yet to get my driver’s license. I passed the Ohio written test with flying colors but I hadn’t gotten the physical part of driving done. I’d been out twice in my parents’ minivan which has the tightest steering column on the planet and freaked out, so my parents have (for the most part) left me alone with only a few occasional snide remarks from my dad. The local driving schools have yet to contact me (and yes, I’ve called them) and I can’t really wait much longer. So… I asked Jon if he could take me to a parking lot to do doughnuts today.

I was doing really well at doughnuts, so we moved on to neighborhood driving. That went well, so I decided to try 30th Street (in Heath). Well… one thing led to another and when I finally stopped the car and got out, I’d moved from 30th Street to State Route 79 to Interstate 70 and driven to Columbus. Jon treated me to dinner in Bexley (Chipotle for me and Grinder’s for him) and I drove back to Newark. 90+ miles on my first day of driving on 5 different types of road and me being really OK doing it. Boo Yah!

(Part of it is that Sable, our ’84 Volvo, handles the road really well and responds to the driver impeccably so all I really had to do was watch the road. I did have a few tight spots such as missing the exit for SR-79 on the way back and having to sneak on, almost hitting someone head on while trying to get in the left lane on Hebron Road, and almost hitting a stop sign while turning on the side street leading to ours, but hey… it was my first day.)

Bob Hope Special

I just watched the Bob Hope special. For those in the Mountain and Pacific time zones, turn on the TV and watch it!!!!! It is so worth watching. He’s the last absolutely funny comedian left and the day he dies will be a national day of mourning. He has done so much more for the morale of US troops than any sitting president and watching his USO footage was the best time I’ve had in ages.

Friday Five

I like the questions, so I’ll be a sheep this week…

1. What brand of toothpaste do you use?
Whatever is around the house. I think we have Colgate Total right now.

2. What brand of toilet paper do you prefer?
Whatever is cheapest. We buy in bulk.

3. What brand(s) of shoes do you wear?
My hiking boots are Lands’ End; my running shoes are Nike (I think); I have brand-name TEVA’s; and I think the rest of my shoes are no-name brands from Payless.

4. What brand of soda do you drink?
When I drink soda, it’s Coca Cola or Canada Dry (ginger ale). I dislike Pepsi.

5. What brand of gum do you chew?
None. I don’t chew gum.

Irony of Ironies

The doorbell rang this afternoon and since Jon was just getting out of the shower I answered it.

J=me
S=salesman

J: Can I help you?
S: Yes, is your mommy or daddy home?
J: *taken aback* I’m the lady of the house. *thinking “how old does he think I am????”*
S: Oh… I’m sorry. I’m from [some random windows company] and we’re doing free estimates.
J: We’ll pass since this property is actually owned by a church.
S: Oh… so you’re a pastor’s wife? You look too young to be a pastor’s wife.
J: *smiles pretty* Uh… thanks. *mentally growling*

It turns out he’s thinking of doing some seminary work and is working with the homeless at a shelter in Columbus and knows a good seminary friend of mine. He was a nice guy, so I didn’t lose my temper. I *KNOW* I look like I’m 12, but geez… can anyone give me the benefit of the doubt on this???

Of course this *had* to happen the day after my birthday…

A Different Kind of Protest

A Parade of Hearses Protests L.A. Violence. (Article by staff writer Jill Leovy)

They came in white, silver and black hearses. They wore somber suits and starched shirts. They stood in practiced poses of respectful silence, hands behind backs, heads bowed.

They had, in short, the air of people used to staying in the background as they shepherd others through their grief.

But on Saturday, the dozens of Los Angeles funeral directors, embalmers, morticians, florists, escorts and mortuary counselors ï?? most of them black ï?? were doing something else: They were protesting urban homicide.

The demonstration by people in death-related industries had been organized by several Los Angeles funeral home owners and employees ï?? tired, they said, of young gunshot victims passing through their doors.

It was a strange idea, they admitted. But once word got out, more and more of their colleagues joined in, and the result was a column of nearly 20 hearses streaming through the streets of South Los Angeles on Saturday morning.

Many of those who took part said they have long harbored feelings of unease about profiting from an all-too-common source of business: premature deaths due to a plague of street homicides.

“We know that people are going to die,” said Edith Simpson, a counselor at House of Winston Mortuary. “But making money off senseless killing ï?? that is another thing.”

“We want to show we are not just burying people for money,” said Eric Williams, the mortuary’s office manager. “We are human too. We are not just hearse drivers and money mongers.”

Human, and just as likely to suffer as the people they serve, said Elizabeth Floyd, a funeral director at Rucker’s Mortuary in Pacoima. Her son, Howard L. Baker, was gunned down in 1984 at age 23.

She told of how she got home in time to find him lying on the ground, his eyes open, as if looking to her for help. Now, as a funeral director, every time she serves a customer who has lost someone this way, “it breaks my heart,” Floyd said. “If I could just say something, do something The pain is so penetrating. A hole. An emptiness in your stomach. You are never the same.”

The protest was conducted in a manner only funeral directors could perfect: First, the hearses rolled through the streets, drawing waves from onlookers, and a few baffled stares. Next came sermons and hymns at a graveyard amid bunches of black and white balloons. Finally, there was a release of white doves.

The event was originally planned as a “No Service Saturday” ï?? a day without funerals. But it didn’t work out that way, organizers said. Some funerals took place anyway, and police said at least four people were killed in Los Angeles County from Friday afternoon to Saturday afternoon. Two were black men, one was a Latino man and one was a Latina woman.

State Assemblyman Mark Ridley-Thomas (D-Los Angeles), who spoke at the event, called the protest “extraordinary.”

Demonstrations against street killings are commonplace in black communities of Los Angeles. There are regular stop-the-violence rallies and candlelight vigils.

But Saturday’s protest shows that such efforts are gaining new backing, Ridley-Thomas said. “People you don’t expect are saying, ‘Enough is enough,’ ” he said.

The hearses took to the streets in an hour when many stretches of South Los Angeles boulevards were empty. The procession passed quickly through light traffic, drawing little notice.

But at some points, small crowds gathered. Pedestrians waved and motorists honked. A few people flashed peace signs, participants said.

The hearses bore signs carrying the usual exhortations seen at South Los Angeles antiviolence demonstrations ï?? “Stop the Violence,” “Stop the Senseless Killing.” But one car also bore a hand-written sign with a more unusual slogan: “Live a Long Time.”

One of the organizers, funeral director Anthony Felder of Spalding Mortuary, stood on Century Boulevard to cheerlead as the column passed. He began talking about his sister, Michelle Alyce Felder ï?? “my best friend in the world” ï?? who was killed at age 23, randomly gunned down at a bus stop.

“Even though we profit from this, there comes a time that those of us who deal with death every day need to take a stand,” Felder said.

“There they go!” he yelled as the hearses rolled past, their company signs in the windows. “Wake up Los Angeles! Wake up!”

Eric Smith, a Los Angeles County sheriff’s dispatch worker, idled his car nearby, waiting for the column to go by.

Smith is 19 and black, a member of the highest-risk age, race and gender group for violent death. At first, he said, he was confused, thinking that he was watching a funeral. But learning the reason, he beamed. “It’s good,” he said. “I think it’s positive. I hope it does something.”

The column zoomed up and down some of the boulevards most notorious for violence: La Brea, Jefferson, Crenshaw, Slauson, Florence, Manchester and Vermont, ending at the Angeles-Rosedale Cemetery at Normandie and Washington.

Organizers had invited some customers to take part. Stephanie Ross, who lost her only son, Christopher Barrett Hayes, 24, to a shooting last month, came to “call on the community to pinch in and help,” she said.

Protesting with funeral directors might seem out of the ordinary, she said. “But, my goodness, these people are who we are calling to help us,” Ross said.

Participants talked about being emotionally affected by their work.

Simpson of the Winston mortuary told how she felt tears rise in her eyes as she counseled a family that had lost three sons in a series of related shootings. Unable to maintain a professional demeanor, she excused herself.

John Terry, the mortuary’s film director, nodded in agreement as he recalled the funeral for the three brothers. “It was hard to keep my composure My chest was tight,” he said.

At the cemetery, Felder, the embalmer and organizer who had lost his sister, took the microphone. He thanked his fellow funeral parlor workers, and called for an end to the killing.

“Brothers and sisters in our industry, you have come out of the closet and shown that we too live in the community that we too are affected,” he said.

He was holding his slain sister’s picture. As he stepped down from the podium, he glanced at it. “Michelle,” he added quietly, “this is for you.”

Did this protest do any good? Well…

Three teens killed after funeral workers protest gang shootings

Heavenly Father, in your Word you have given us a vision of that holy city to which the nations of the world bring their glory. Look upon and visit the cities of the earth. Renew ties of mutual regard which form our civic life. Send us honest and able leaders. Help us to eliminate poverty, prejudice, and oppression, that peace may prevail with righteousness, and justice with order, and that men and women from various cultures and with differing talents may find with one another the fulfillment of their humanity; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Lord, listen to your children praying
Lord send your spirit in this place
Lord listen to your children praying
Send us love, send us power, send us grace.