October 2011
Faithful
18 10 11 12:45 Filed in: My Life | Grief Notes
I had wondered why I was traveling to California. When I bought the ticket, I knew why; I was going to the fall adult conference at Mount Hermon. It would be good, though probably not quite as good as the Creating a Legacy conference a couple of months ago. At that conference I had wondered if the scheduling would impact registration for the fall conference, but nobody else seemed concerned. Then I got the letter: The fall conference had been cancelled due to low registration. It would have been good, I thought, to have that information before I bought a non-refundable airline ticket.
For the last two weeks, I waffled. Should I go and visit family, or should I pay the exorbitant change fee and go somewhere else. After all, I’ve never been to Hawaii. The Scot in me won out - just use the ticket. So there I was this morning at SeaTac, wondering why I was flying.
Just before I boarded, my cell phone rang. It was my daughter calling to pass on a sad message. Pastor Wiley Hoyle, who had married Joan and me, had died. I called his wife Cleo in Santa Rosa, an hour and a half from where I will be staying, His death was not a surprise; cancer and hospice care had become a familiar part of life. But I know too well that the awareness of the impending death of a loved one does not diminish the pain of the loss. I can sense what his family is experiencing because I have been there, and the loss of a friend scratches at the scars of my own grief.
I recall years ago talking to Chuck Swindoll, who summed up Wiley Hoyle in one word: faithful. The word fits.
The plane will be landing soon. I hope to give Cleo a hug on this trip. And I no longer wonder why I am going to California.
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Mushrooms
We ended up focused less on leaves and more on fungi, which I will admit doesn’t sound all that appealing. I can understand gathering leaves with which to decorate, but I don’t know anyone who hunts mushrooms for the same purpose. The beauty of mushrooms seems far greater when they are in their natural setting, and we enjoyed walking through the woods, wondering at large mushrooms with upturned edges, holding rain water like a cup.
I have never before thought of mushrooms as beautiful. Tasty, yes, but not beautiful. In fact they have always seemed somewhat ugly. These tree-hugging conks changed my mind. Ironically they are evidence of decay, the wood-rotting fungus often entering the tree through a wound. I wonder idly how it began and marvel at the miracle that by God’s grace even decay can produce beauty.
I’ll look elsewhere for leaves and will celebrate the stress that produces their riotous color. This week was a time for mushrooms.
