My mom was after me for years…

…to get this sort of thing and wear it. Well, mom, I did it. It took a little while, but I finally got it done. 

So, I was preparing for today’s Issues Show on All Saints…

…and hunting in this blog for a particular sermon. I noticed it had a comment and I clicked on it and read it. It about brought tears to my eyes:

“Wonderful, Christ-centered Gospel Sermon! Thanks for sharing it. Then He will wipe away every tear. Now this message brought tears, as I thought of those who are already there, and as I remember that I (and all believers) are there in Jesus, and will be there. All Saints... Thanks - + Herb.” 

That would be our beloved Herb Mueller, former SID President and former First Vice President of Synod. He went home to Jesus some years ago now. He is still very much missed. 

Well, I told Cindi on the way home…

…I’m definitely getting too old for this. We had a WONDERFUL time with the saints of St. Paul Lutheran Church in Cullman, Alabama. And we are totally jealous of their outstanding school facility. I got to do a presentation on how the hymnic deposit passes on the faith, and then we celebrated a beautiful Divine Service (Choir under Pr. Clark’s expert direction! Brass! Tympani! Organ! Strings!), at which I was blessed to preach. We enjoyed a wonderful meal at the elder Bussman’s (Mark and Vicki) with Pr. John, Emily and the boys on Saturday evening. We stayed at a fabulous little “cabin” near to the church owned by congregational members. It was all awesome and all such a blessing. BUT…the DRIVE. Seven hours there on Saturday. Seven hours home right after service today (which had me doing some driving in the dark - something I find myself increasingly incapable of doing. What gives with that?). Anywho, I’m not agreeing to anything like it in the future. My excuse: I’m just too old. 

A Blessed Day of St. James of Jerusalem!

I was blessed to serve the Mass (the Divine Service) today with my grandson Henry. His first time serving at the Lord’s altar:

Wait, is Weedon on Twitter (aka X)?

Yes, that’s me. X assigned me the strange name, but if you see my picture there and note the Carnivore trend, then you’ll readily see that it is me. This in response to inquiries I have received on the blog. I was on it some years ago (in Twitter days) but had given up Social Media. I return to X because it’s one of the last free places where you can get info sans censorship.

A Crazy Week…

…on Friday we headed off to Grace, Little Rock. A seminar on Saturday on the Church’s song (got to meet so many great folks, including Pr. Schoop, and caught up with old friend Dana and Harold and Eileen’s niece and two great bros from around Texarkana), followed by Kantor Magnuson’s awesome hymn festival on hymns of Luther in honor of the Achtliederbuch, featuring not only her masterful organ work but also her choir! But I found out yet once again, I’m simply not able to teach for hours on end and then sing. Ugh. The voice was dead by day’s end and I couldn’t sing with energy all those great hymns at the festival. Sadness. 

Fortunately, the voice mostly recovered by this morning and I was able to lead Bible class and celebrate and preach at the Divine Service. And again, Kantor played an awesome liturgy! So blessed to be with these saints, and hear that they’re preparing to call my buddy Pr. Michael Kumm as a interim!!! They will be so blessed by him. 

We pulled into Hamel before sunset. Tomorrow will be busy with lots of writing AND prepping for Dave’s move on Tuesday. Whew. And preaching and leading Bible Class at St. Paul’s this weekend, besides also doing the St. Luke’s service on Friday and St. James next week. 

The voice thing, though. It’s happened like three or four times in a row. I think I get the message. I have got to limit the time I speak in a day. Three hours a day is about the limit.

It Seems Strange

To think that today I enter my 64th year in this world. It didn’t look like I’d make it when I was born. They realized something was quite wrong when I kept throwing up any food they gave me, and apparently the crying was nonstop. I was slowly starving to death. After getting me over to Children’s Hospital in D.C., the doctors did surgery. They found the insides quite a jumble, and finally (almost miraculously back in 1960), located where a malformed intestine was folded over on itself, blocking any nutrition from being absorbed. My mom said they illustrated it with a folded washcloth that was at an angle rather than being straight. I wish I knew the name of the surgeon who found it, but whoever he was, he left a gaping slash down my belly but a functioning digestive system. I lived. 

My mom never forgot that miracle and never wanted me to forget it. She sent me around the neighborhood each year to collect for Children’s Hospital. She reminded me: “You wouldn’t be here today without them.” I confess, introvert that I am, I DETESTED the task. Knocking on the doors of neighbors to ask for a donation was not at all a comfortable task. But mom taught me that comfort has nothing to do with it when it is the right thing to do. So off I went. She even told me that if anyone tried the old “I gave at the office” I was to politely correct them and tell them that Children’s wasn’t part of any other charity network (I assume that has long since changed). 

So here I am, alive at 64. That’s five years older than my poor dad got to be. And it’s only 13 years shy of my mom’s age at death. Anyway you slice it, I’m looking down the last bit of my earthly pilgrimage. Which truly seems so weird. I still feel great most every day. It’s only when I look in the mirror at the wrinkles and the graying hair that I realize I’m not a kid anymore. I never stopped feeling like one! 

Oh, there’s some arthritis in the hands, and opening things is not as easy as it used to be by a long shot. But I still walk almost every day upwards of five miles. I can do pullups and pushups. Physically, I’m still in pretty decent shape. 

And there is no question that I have been blessed way, way beyond my deserving and even my imagining. A wife who has been the very image to me of God’s grace and mercy, and of whom I am not worthy. Three absolutely stellar children whom I am so proud of, and they each married the perfect spouse and I’m equally as proud of them. Best of all, they gave me my grandchildren: 13 of whom I’ve gotten to know and hold, and 2 of whom are in utero at the moment. At their birth I’ll have matched the number of my parent’s grandchildren! They, however, did that across 25 years and my children gave me these wondrous gifts in a mere 12.5 years. 

What’s ahead? I still have three years (God willing) of writing and teaching for Lutheran Public Radio and doing a handful of conferences a year. But when I turn 67 I intend to turn that responsibility over to others. I’ll happily continue to serve as an assistant at St. Paul’s, and once I no longer have to write and record 6 podcasts and 1 Issues show a week, I could probably help out there more. If God spares me and I live to 67, I hope to take a solid three months off from any work and just work on things that I’ve wanted to do and not had the time to. My grandkids will range from 16 to 2.5 by then! They should keep me more than busy. 

Thank you, God, for the doctors at Children’s in D.C. Thank you for my wonderful mom and dad and brothers and sisters. Thank you for my wife and all her family. Thank you for our children and grandchildren. Thank you for the opportunities you have granted this most unworthy servant. Thank you for the laughter, the cards, the feasts, the singing, and the lazy afternoons floating in the pool. Thank you for dear friends to travel and relax with. Thank you for all Your gifts! “Glory to You, O Lord, for all things!”

Sadness

I had occasion today to send an old blog posting to a friend. It led me to randomly look through old back and forths, and the name of my buddy Paul McCain came up again and again. I miss our back and forths. He could get under some folks’ skin, I know. Tact was just not one of his skills. But I loved the man, and I miss our occasional lunches and our almost daily correspondence. You know, the little bit that shows up on the blog…that’s the least of our discussions. Anything that either one of us found of interest, we’d almost invariably send an email to the other detailing it. And, to be truthful, I also miss receiving his surprise packages from CPH. He’d send them along and I’d write to say thanks, and he’d say: “I knew you would read them and put them to use in teaching the Church.” Old friend, I hope you know how much we miss you!

+Asleep in Jesus: Ralph C. Schultz

“Doc” was President of Concordia College when I attended there. He also was the director of the Festival Chorus (Gerry Coleman—may he also rest in peace—conducted the Tour and Chapel Choirs). When I heard of his passing this past week, my mind went back to a poem his wife had written and that he had set to music.We loved to sing it.

 In part it ran:

Joy is budding trees and raindrops,

Sunswept waves and golden sand;

Joy is amber-tinted forests,

New, white snow from God’s own Hand.

Joy is mother’s tender caring

For her tiny newborn child;

Joy is father’s gentle pruning

Of the young tree growing wild.

Joy is faith and hope and loving

Growing stronger through the years;

Joy is meeting life at sunset

Feeling no despair or fear.

Joy is being truly thankful

For the dawn of each new day.

Joy is working, praying, sharing

Ev’ry step along the way.

Joy is telling little children

Jesus shelters them from harm;

Joy is leading hopeless sinners

To His ever-open arms. 

Joy is Jesus’ strength around me;

Joy is Jesus’ love within;

Joy is knowing my Salvation;

That I’m free from death and sin.

Joy is living here for Him

Who gave Himself for me.

Joy is living there in heaven

To sing for joy eternally.

Life at sunset feeling no despair or fear.. I am sure that is how Doc met his end. For this wonderful man of God and the huge blessing he was to so very many in Christ’s Church: glory be to Thee, O Lord!

My last exchange with Doc was a couple years ago. Choir was singing one of his pieces (a setting of God of Grace) and I let him know we were doing. He asked me if I noticed anything interesting about the bass line. I had not! It was the melody line written backwards. He was truly a marvel. His “To Thee, O Christ Child” will always be one of my favorite Christmas pieces.

As our Eastern friends are wont to say: May his memory be eternal! And as we Westerners say: Rest eternal grant him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him.

(Thanks to Pr. Jim Krauser for finding the text for this song)

Count your many blessings, see what God has done!

 

Sawyer, Flynn, Evangeline, Henry, Felicity, Emmett, Kloe, Chancellor, Griffin, Lydia, Annabelle, Winnie, Oliver. I told Lauren she should get her belly in the picture for the twins, but she declined. Where on earth will be put them all next year for a pic?