Sitting Vigil

It's already July 18 in Scotland, where I sit in the little hamlet of Pittscottie, Fife, where Heather, David, Evan, and Andrew Moffitt live.  I'm awake in the middle of the night, listening to a playlist I made on May 24, 2013, the last anniversary Everly and I had while she was living.  I don't know if I'll feel like going to sleep tonight.  It won't be July 18 in the US for a while longer.

Naomi and I went to Edinburgh on Thursday, the 17th.  We visited the Divinity School where our friend Chun-Pang Lau earned his doctorate.  We climbed up the rocky crag and visited the Edinburgh Castle.  Then we walked down the Royal Mile, stopping at various sites, finally reaching the Holyrood Palace.  Along the way, we had lunch at the Elephant House, where J.K. Rowling often went to write her famous Harry Potter books.  We had a great evening with the Moffitts over dinner and cobbler.

David finished his drive back to Austin to be with Lydia on the 18th.  He also will be packing, hauling some things to Salado, and doing some cleaning in preparation for moving out of the Austin apartment.  Lydia is in school, and she is working out the tension and grief with some time in the open air of parkland along the Brazos River.  I love the name of that river--Rio de los Brazos de Dios, which translates to "River of the Arms of God."  I hope she is feeling those arms around her.

Events are blurry to me now.  Pastor Travis Burleson came by to offer prayer last July 17th.  Nancy Ratliff came with dinner and sat up talking to me until Everly told us to go to bed.   Lydia stayed up to sit with Everly.  In the morning, Everly had labored breathing, and it was not long until she breathed her last.  You will surely understand that our hearts were broken last July 18.

The pain can still be very intense.  Please don't expect us to be "over" this loss.  How can you be over the force of nature that was Everly?  Yet, we also are not in the same grieving place that we were a year ago.  We've had to make some decisions about living the lives Everly expects us to live.  David is moving to Ann Arbor to work and be with his partner, Michael.  Naomi is getting ready to start graduate school at UNC-Chapel Hill, studying social work.  Lydia is putting on the final press toward graduating with an engineering degree from Baylor.  I'm trying to buy a house and relocate back to North Carolina where my work is.  I would not claim to speak for each of them, but I suspect they like me struggled with knowing how to make such important life decisions without being able to talk it through with Everly.

So we are not and won't be over Everly's dying.  It will be with us and in us.  But we also realize, as Everly sought to instill in us during her last days, that we are not to abide in a place of death.  We have to be about life.  The people who sell plaques about people's names associate Everly's name with the great-great-grandmother of all of us, according to the Jewish creation story, Eve.  And they say that name means "Life; to live; to breathe; enlivening."  Everly enlivened us.  She expects us to live.  She sent us forward, even without her, to breathe, to live, and to give life to others.

Now at 3 am I am listening to blues singer Lizz Wright sing The Youngbloods "Get Together."

You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand.
Just one key unlocks them both--
It's there at your command.

Come on, people now,
Smile on your brother.
Everybody get together--
Try to love one another right now.

It's a choice we have to make, made more real by the grief.  Sinking into the pain and fear of grief is tempting, but not the path that we and Everly have traveled down and lived for.  "Anyone knows that Love is the only road." (It's okay to feel afraid.  Don't let that stand in your way.) 

It's the week of Peace Camp, the nickname for the annual gathering of the Baptist Peace Fellowship of North America.  Our family went to Peace Camp for countless summers.  Everly made important life decisions based on her experiences and conversations at these gatherings.  She loved being with the folks who she got to see only at this time of year.  Sometimes she felt it was her only church all year.  It was during their gathering, which of course we could not attend last summer, that Everly died. 

We and many others gave donations in Everly's honor to support students who need help to attend the BPFNA gathering.  We got a wonderful thank you note from one of Everly's Peace Camp buddies, Alice Adams, letting us know that those funds had helped four Burmese students from Louisville, KY, be able to travel to Peace Camp in Canada this week.  She would be very pleased to have a part in that.

Darrell Adams, a kindred soul, has often sung at Peace Camp, and we have his CDs and have listened often.  One song he has recorded that we love is a traditional hymn whose author is unknown, "How Can I Keep from Singing?".  It says one thing that I want to say on this sacred day of remembrance.

My life flows on in endless song
Above earth's lamentation.
I hear the real, though far off hymn
That hails the new creation.

Above the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul--
How can I keep from singing?

I also want to remember Everly's motto for her season of struggle against cancer:  Don't Postpone Joy!

I think it's time to get some sleep.

Some Reflections on Traveling in England and Wales

I've not written much down about my travels in the UK so far.  I've posted some pictures and tossed a few comments over the past two and one-half weeks.  So here are a few reflections I settled down to write while in Oxford and then while on the train toward Scotland.

Tower of London

I was surprised to find that the “tower” of London was something different than my “foreigner imagination” had expected.  Somehow I had confused it with its neighbor, the Tower Bridge, and assumed it was one of the bridge towers.  Upon seeing it, I realized that the “tower” gained its name in a different historical era and the meanings of words had changed somewhat over time. 

Certainly, it was a tower of sorts, as a multistory castle would be.  But it was not, as we would tend to believe in current usage, a building much taller than it is wide.  Rather, its name probably reflects the cognate term from Italian, such as torre, which can mean “castle” rather than the current English use for a tall building.  Tall it was, for its time, but it was not a slim structure of great height.  It was an imposing structure in the countryside and along the river, bigger than anything else around, and designed for defense and intimidation. 

The most important aspects of this tour for me were the historical insights into the emergence of England as a political entity after the Norman invasion.  From this first stop on our castle tours, we learned again and again about the initial building program of William the Conqueror and the subsequent building program of Edward I.

Westminster Abbey

I realize now that I had the expectation of visiting a grand church wherein the theological heritage of centuries was made prominent, in contrast to the historyless denominational churches of the US.  What I found, instead, was a vast church filled with the  power of royalty and nobility as its most dominant feature, with the theological heritage employed to aggrandize the wealth and power of empire. 

Now I’m not trying to ignore the significant theological and material failures of Baptists or others like us.  But I am saying that it was overwhelming and shocking to me to see the extent to which this church had been wrestled and corralled into becoming a justifier of the lives of wealthy, powerful people of the dominating class.  It’s just so obvious here, even though some of the people whose elaborate statues and plaques may have been very devout and pious, and even though it is not completely different in other churches, except by degree. 

Many of the other cathedrals and chapels we have seen continued this same impression on a smaller scale.  My fellow theologian, Dr. Margaret Adam, in conversation explained that the building of such enormous and ornate churches followed by the royal confiscation of their lands led to the need to solicit this kind of support from wealthy benefactors to keep the buildings from falling into ruins.  Margaret's heart is generous enough to see others' point of view sympathetically, even if she is not fully in agreement with them.  She helped me to see the struggle of aging English churches, reminding me how all of our schemes for sustaining a parish and its heritage can lead to compromises.  What a dilemma, and one that US churches of all sorts have faced for at least a century.  Without the same expectations of nobles oblige, US churches are likely to close, sell their property, and be removed or remodeled and repurposed.  While some English churches have survived through this memorial system, certainly many others have also been "repurposed" or fallen into ruin.

Stratford upon Avon

It was great to see the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of Henry IV, Part 1.  We enjoyed the visit to Shakespeare’s boyhood home and other related sites in Stratford, but the play was the highlight.  Although I knew the play from my university English literature course, I had only a tiny bit of the historical context in mind.  I was more aware after some touring in London of what was happening in the play, and later tours in Wales gave it even a fuller contextualization.  The battles between Henry V and the Welsh, led by Owain Glyn Dwr, described in historical presentations at the Caernarfon Castle, put Henry V into a specific historical struggle and not just a literary struggle.  The acting was excellent, and the direction/production made great use of the theater and the actors.  Falstaff, the star, did a great job.  Henry V and Hotspur received compelling portrayals.  All in all, it was well worth the trip.

Traveling without Everly

This trip has involved sometimes very tiring days with long hours of walking.  Naomi and I have managed well, but it would have been different with Everly.  She would not have wanted such long walking sessions.  She would have worked out a way to see the sights and send us out to do the most stair-climbing and long trekking without her having to become exhausted.  I have often commented to Naomi that Everly would have liked this or that, that Everly would not have wanted to climb this or that, that Everly would be tired and ready to be finished. 

On Monday morning, as we climbed the stairs after breakfast, I was observing the art on the wall.  There were sketches and watercolors of scenes of the Conwy Castle and surrounding countryside.  It was one of the first moments of grief to emerge fully in our travel.  This is the week in which the anniversary of Everly’s death comes.  And there, looking at a watercolored sketch, I thought of our first year of marriage when we took a trip to Carmel, CA.  There we were impressed by the beauty of the seaside with its wildflowers, and we found a watercolor print that we loved and purchased. 

It was a moment of remembering shared travel, the beauty that we appreciated in the world when we were together, and of course that we cannot share that together in the same way now.  I was deeply moved, and sweet Naomi asked me if I were okay.  That gave me the opportunity to talk a while about Everly and what I am missing as she is not present with us on this wonderful journey.  I’m staying so busy that it’s not clear to me how to experience grief in this anniversary week.

On Tuesday night I was able to visit with friends who had come to Oxford for the Young Scholars in the Baptist Academy meeting.  Brad and Kathy Creed, friends of mine and Everly’s from Baylor days, were present.  In 2007 they had lost their 18-yr-old daughter to an automobile accident.  We felt such sorrow for them in those difficult days.  They had both loved Everly, and have followed my comments on her struggle and death, and on our family’s grieving.  We got to know more about one another’s families and caught up on old friends we had seen or talked with recently. 

After dinner, we went to the worship service which included the singing of Wesley’s “Amazing Love,” which I sang in full voice, and “Abide with Me,” of which I was barely able to sing the first line.  It is a hymn which describes in poetic ways the struggle and ebbing of life, and it always reminds me of moments from Everly’s last days in hospice as she released her grip on this world and longed for a new body and new life free from pain. 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

The meditation had been from Romans 8, including the hope we have because we share in Christ’s suffering and death.  For a short time during the hymn, the tears flowed, and great sobs rocked me.  Partly it was because of the comfort of being with Kathy and Brad.  Also, across the aisle was Beth Newman, a long-time friend from doctoral studies days at Duke.  Beth and I have had many opportunities to work together over the years, and her friendship is dear to me.  I thank them all for how their friendship that evening also became a moment of remembering other days of Everly’s presence in this world and in our lives.