+ 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!