+ Melvin Sievers

Wow. This one is so hard to write. A pastor is never supposed to have favorites in a congregation. Never. But, then there was Melvin. How could one help it? He and Lucille, Janice and Dean, such a staunch and strong family. I can say it, but with tears, I absolutely loved that man. 

Where to even begin? The argument with the cow that landed him in the hospital? Him DEFENDING the wretched cow? Parkinson’s had stolen a bit of the old smile from his face, but not from his heart. Him asking: “You still eating just meat?” I had to confess that I wasn’t JUST meat anymore. But still LOTS of meat. He nodded his approval. 

He was in his 90s in that hospital gown that doesn’t make for modesty. He was totally at peace. I wasn’t. I had been there it seems like an eon ago when his sweet mom, Esther, was passing. I remember reading to her the old prayers for the Gebetschatzbuch. I know that when we are approaching death, we tend to “go back,” as it were, to our youth. She grew up with German. Though, not in Gehlenbeck. The first time those three sisters registered to me, Wilma (of course!) informed me: “WE are not Gehlenbeck Sievers; WE are Braunschweig Sievers!” 

I soon learned the difference. The Braunschweigers remained fast friends. Melvin and Lucille went on road trips with motorcycles with Elsie (Sievers) and Ed Ahrens. The now defunct little Braunschweig Church formed them in a robust and sturdy Lutheranism. No nonsense. 

Melvin and Lucille’s daughter, Janice, has been a close friend since we came here. Our kids were the same age roughly. And, well, like her dad, she’s just a hoot. She makes me happy whenever we get the brief moment to catch up.

I remember when she told me her dad wasn’t doing well. Cindi and I were at 54th Street in Edwardsville, grabbing a bit to eat. I hoped to see him again, and was planning on going there the next day. He didn’t make it till the next day. 

My father-in-law, Dave, always insisted on stopping along the last pew to shake hands with Melvin and chat for a bit. He thought the world of him, along with the rest of us. 

I told Janice that when he arrived at last in the Kingdom, I’ll bet Sonny said: “Well, you sure took your sweet time, didn’t you? We’ve been waiting to get up a dart ball game!” 

I could go on and on about that dear man. Just seeing him and Lucille always brought a smile to my face. I  so look forward to being with him again, and not ever having to say goodbye. Pray for us, Melvin, that we stay faithful unto death as you did!

P.S. One more memory. It was shortly after Christmas. The choir was practicing before service. The sun was just rising over the horizon. I glanced out the door of the nave. Across the highway and across the field, an entire herd of deer was running across the field. I lost count of how many. I said to him: “We’re INSIDE ‘The Holly and the Ivy.’” He said: “Yup.” “The rising of the sun, the running of the deer, the playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the choir.”

+ Dale Jones

Oh, where to even begin? I’ve sung in her ear for years, because the basses sit right behind the altos. Even after the cancer diagnosis, as long as she could muster some energy, she was still climbing the stairs to the balcony and singing. 

Music ran through her soul. And that’s why I think she so delighted in her grandson’s taking to the organ and showing a remarkable aptitude upon it. 

When she wasn’t able to make it to choir anymore, on numberless choir rehearsals, Ann and Kantor called her up and asked if we could sing to her. Her response never varied: “Sure!” Sometimes we sang an old favorite choir piece, but more often than not just hymns. 

She’d probably say: “Just hymns? Did you really say that?” For the hymns carry the whole comfort of the Gospel into the depths of our soul. I pity those who have never been given the chance to love them like Dale did.

She and Doc had the naughty habit of disappearing to Hawaii for several weeks during those unfortunate weeks of February (okay, I might have been a bit jealous). We always counted the days down till their return. But one year that didn’t happen. It was the first diagnosis of trouble. I think she still tried to sing all through that time. It reminded me of the old Shaker hymn:

“My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation. I hear the real, though far off hymn, how can I keep from singing?”

THAT was Dale. She couldn’t keep from singing! 

+ Leroy Renken

I have so many of these to catch up on. I haven’t written much on the blog in ages. Leroy and Bev have just been part of life at St. Paul’s for a long, long time. I remember when we were going through a lean patch as far as finances go, and I was a bit worried about how things would turn out, Leroy was working on something or other there in the basement. He took me aside and told me: “Pastor, don’t you EVER believe that this Church doesn’t have the money to do whatever it needs to do.” That meant so much to me. I stopped worrying (well, sort of), and found out how very right Leroy was! 

The man was nothing if not meticulous. He was a finishing carpenter, you see, and his attention to detail and making sure things were “just so” reflected a core component of his personality. I don’t think he tolerated “good enough” in any part of life! 

These last few years have been tough. His health hasn’t been the greatest, as his earthly tent began to fray. Whenever I served at a liturgy, as he left I’d ask him how he’s doing. His standard reply became “I’m still here.” I knew what he meant. He was still alive, but didn’t feel like he was LIVING as he had always been accustomed to. And then Bev, ever the lady, would give me that heart-breaking smile of hers. It’s the long goodbye. He knew it. She knew it. And I think their beloved children and grandchildren also knew it.

It was Maundy Thursday that Stephanie wrote Cindi, trying to get a message through to Pastor to let him know that Leroy had had a stroke, a bad one, and that they couldn’t do anything to repair its damage. The other pastors on staff were all up front ready to begin the liturgy. I look a message down to Pastor right before the bell rang. I came back up to choir with a heavy heart. We only had two basses, but when the other bass if Pr. Daenzer? I told him I was heading out to the hospital. 

Weird thing: they MOVED SLU hospital since the last time I was there. I marveled at getting a good parking spot and then headed over, only learn that I needed to huff it about two or three blocks. I did so, and after a little wait, was shown back to Leroy’s room. It was a blessing to pray with that dear man the commendation of the dying. As I sang the Nunc Dimittis, I think I heard Bev, Ann, and Stephen joining in. The long goodbye was coming to a close. He made it through till Easter, though, and then as Pastor Ball preached so comfortingly today, he opened his eyes to his risen Lord and began to experience the fulfillment of all God’s promises. 

He was always so proud of his grandkids, but Cole was the one I actually got to know. I usually rib the lad about not carrying his horn with him all the time (he is a GREAT trumpeter). The look on his face today as he left said it all: he loved his grandpa and his grandpa loved him, and there will be a hole in his heart for the rest of his days. 

St. Paul’s carries a bit of that hole too. We’ll remember Leroy, the precise man. Leroy, the quiet man. Leroy, the faithful worshipper who loved his Jesus. Can’t wait to see you again, my friend. Christ is risen!

+ Lois Sander

I sure never thought my next post on this blog would be this one. Rest eternal grant her, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon her!

When my inlaws moved to town, she and Marvin, Marilyn and Gary, befriended them and played cards and dominoes with them. Eventually, it was only Lois and Dave left of that crew. They became very fast friends. They both had children in Maryland, so they made the trip together a few times.

Lois was the 3-4 grade teacher at our parish school when I arrived here in 1992. She would not retire before she had taught all my children. I remember being a little worried about my son’s distractedness. She told me “There’s nothing wrong with that boy. He’ll be fine.” She said that they would be talking about something in class, and she could see that she had lost him. Finally, his hand would shoot up and he’d ask about something they had covered 20 minutes prior. The class would collectively groan, but she said he’d required time to think about it. She was right. He was fine. 

She was thrilled, I think, that Lauren followed her into the teaching vocation. And when Bekah and Andy adopted Kloe and Emmett, she couldn’t have been more thrilled. She attended their Baptisms and commented to me all the time on Kloe in particular: what a wonderful young lady she had become.

She was like a grandma to all my children’s children. She came to nearly every single family event. And during the horrible days of COVID, she was in our pod. She, Dave, Cindi and I played more games of Liverpool than any of us (except Dave) wanted! Lois always hated hand number four, where she frequently got clobbered. And she didn’t like it when the jokers didn’t come her way! Most Sundays we had brunch at the house, she joined us.

She worked nonstop at our parish. Confirmation banners? That was her specialty. Dinners for funerals? She always had something cooked and helped with serving. Sewing up LWML quilts? I think she’s still got a ton of material in her house. Oh, it never stopped. She seemed to have a PLACE there at St. Paul’s and it’s going to be really wretched to be there without her. 

I’ll not forget, either, the horrid day her niece, Rachel, died giving birth. She and Marvin were just leaving when Pr. Burdick called and I had to run out and break that unthinkable news to them. We prayed together and wept together that day. 

She was so proud of her two boys, and she had every right to be. They both flew into town and spent all her final hours with her. She was blessed not only in David and Jonathan, but in Maggie and Sanna, and the very joy of her life, her grandchildren: Charles, Anya, and Eric. She was proud of Charles sticking up for Lutheranism at his Catholic High School, and then when he went to Notre Dame, she wore a shirt with their logo and made it up for some of the games. She could tell you all about Anya’s not taking nonsense from anyone in soccer, and about Eric’s brilliant and inquisitive mind. All three of the grandchildren inherited MORE than their fair share of smarts from their ridiculously talented parents, and she was so, so proud of them. And she delighted in the way her boys constantly teased each other: Jonathan sending David pictures of snakes and David sending Jonathan pictures of spiders. And how many times did she quote her mother-in-law to us? “I’m just sitting here so you all can have a game.” 

Lois, you will be sorely missed. You were such a good friend to us all. I can’t wait to see you again!