A time to remember

We finally found the cemetery by the country church, several miles outside Rhome, Texas. We almost walked past the gravestone. It was a simple, thin maker, no more than a couple of feet wide and no higher than my knees.  Bending down, I ran my fingers over the letters, squinting to read the birth date and death date, for the passing of the years had worn them smooth.

Somehow, just standing there, I felt closer to him.

It was the gravesite for my great-great grandad, Robert Franklin Whitlock. I had become fascinated with his life. A little family research revealed that he had fought in several major battles of the Civil War. He was in Pickett’s Charge at the Battle of Gettysburg, as well as the battles of Fredericksburg, and Antietam.

Reflecting on what I knew of his life as I stood there that day, I had a profound sense of gratitude for the very fact that I was able to stand there and give thanks. Nearly one-third of those engaged in the Battle of Gettysburg became causalities. Think of that, one of three persons. At Frederiksberg, the Confederate army lost 5,377 soldiers, the Union army even more. And about 23,000 men died, went missing, or were wounded at Antietam.

Great-Great Grandad was a survivor. After the war, during a period historians refer to as the Reconstruction Era, Robert Franklin moved his family from Tennessee to Texas, maybe to try and forget what he’d seen and to start anew.

He may have started anew, but he couldn’t forget.

He remembered, I’m quite sure, both the happy and the sad.

That day at his gravesite, I remembered too, the happy and the sad that up to that point had helped shape my life.

And reflecting how my very existence had been caught up in his survival, I could give thanks for being able to give thanks.

This Monday is Memorial Day. It should serve as a reminder of how important it is to give thanks for those who have gone before us and think, if even for a moment, about where we are in this journey we call life.

Actually, Memorial Day was started in 1868 for the purpose of decorating the graves of Civil War veterans. Over the years, it has evolved into a time to remember all deceased veterans and our deceased loved ones.

Poet Robert Frost said, “A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.”

This weekend is more than just an extended weekend; it’s a time for remembering, and all of us have someone to remember.

And we would like to think that we will be remembered too, don’t we?

After the nation of Israel had miraculously crossed the Jordan River, God instructed Joshua to have the people erect stones in that place. “In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ you should tell them…” (Joshua 4:6-7).

It’s important to remember.

Today, we still wonder what those mysterious stones at Stonehenge mean. Somehow, some generation failed to pass it along, and the memory is lost.

This weekend, take some time to remember and pass the memory along.

Maybe you’ll go to the cemetery, and there a gravestone will remind you. Or perhaps when you look in the mirror and once again catch a glimpse of that necklace you’ve become so accustomed to wearing, you’ll pause and reflect on him, for that piece of jewelry carries a part of him in it. Maybe it’s when you stare into that faded picture that her memory comes alive to you. Or perhaps as you gently, even reverently caress that special urn containing what’s left of him, you remember. Or maybe when you open her Bible and press its pages to your face, breathing in deeply, you breath her in, too, because she touched those pages, and a part of her still lingers in them. And you remember.

Wherever it is, and for whomever it is, take some time to remember.

If even for a moment, remember.

And give thanks that it is no mistake that you have been brought there to that moment, to that place, by Someone greater than you, if for nothing else than to give thanks that you are there to give thanks. And remember.

A simple act of paying it forward

When the waiter first told us someone had picked up our check, I didn’t understand him.

“You mean our check is at the counter?”

“No sir, someone paid for it,” he repeated.

“Someone paid for it,” Lori echoed his words to me, slowly enunciating each syllable like she was talking to someone who had difficulty hearing.

The waiter pointed to the booth next to us, as if I needed further clarification: “They did it,” he said.

I tried to remember the people seated next to us: Beyond a casual glance, I never made eye contact with them during lunch; nor did we exchange greetings.

“He said you ministered to his family. He said you preached his dad’s funeral.”

“Ahh,” I thought.

But I still couldn’t recall the man or his dad’s funeral. I’ve lived here a few months shy of 14 years. His dad’s funeral could have been any time during that time. And it seems as though in recent years, I’ve ministered at more and more funerals for people who are not members of the church I pastor, making it even more challenging to recall those related to the deceased.

Later that afternoon, I commented to Lori: “If the man had wanted me to know who he was and why he paid for our meal, he would have said something to me, like ‘You may not remember me, but you preached my dad’s funeral,’ and then he could have told us he was going to pay for our lunch, expecting us to thank him. But he didn’t do that. He was just wanting to say ‘thank you,’ in an anonymous way.”

“He kind of ‘paid it forward,’” Lori observed.

“Kind of” because “paying it forward,” isn’t exactly the same as “paying it back.” When someone does a good deed to you, instead of paying them back you pay it forward by doing a good deed for someone else, like when someone pays for your coffee at the drive-through, and then you pay for the coffee of the person behind you. There is even a Pay It Forward Day, April 28. The website for Pay It Forward Day has suggestions for paying it forward: Pay for someone’s coffee, or pay for someone’s toll or gas or food, or donate to a charity or cause. It generally refers to selfless giving.

Lori and I figured the person or persons who paid for our lunch fit the category of paying it forward since they did it anonymously and therefore selflessly. They didn’t leave instructions to the waiter to tell us. What I knew, I discovered by asking the waiter.

Not all giving is such. Gifts sometimes come with strings attached, that is, with some expectation of giving back for the gift or favor, whether the pay back is in the form of time, attention, or preferential treatment.

In reality, that’s not giving; it’s trading.

Most of us have been guilty of that, expecting some form of praise for the fact that we’ve given.

It’s all to easy to turn our gifts into little monuments, even if imaginary ones, in honor of ourselves. Jesus praised the widow who gave two coins (the widow’s mite) not only because she gave “out of her poverty” (Luke 21:2) but also because she gave from her heart and not for any personal recognition.

I read this quip from Albert Malvino: “This book is dedicated to my brilliant and beautiful wife without whom I would be nothing. She always comforts and consoles, never complains or interferes, asks nothing, and endures all. She also writes my dedications.”

Most of us have our none-too-subtle ways of letting others know when we’ve given.

Our meal had been paid for. But more importantly, someone had said, “Thank you,” for something I did some time ago, even though I didn’t know exactly when or where or to whom.

G.B. Stearn said, “Silent gratitude isn’t much use to anyone.”

Even though the people buying our lunch were silent about it, we heard their attitude of gratitude loud and clear.

Thank you.

Will you or will you not?

How could someone with the assets of Prince NOT have a will?

A judge has determined that Prince did not have a will and that his estate, estimated to be in the neighborhood of $350 million, will be distributed among his heirs, which would be in his case, his brothers and sisters.

And it’s not just the percentage of the estate portioned to each heir that matters in this instance, it’s what to do with what’s in it, all the music memorabilia and special items related to them, not to mention his music that’s yet to be published. And what about the hundreds of millions of dollars Prince has from record companies and concert venues? It’s complicated, to say the least.

Even with a will, it still might have been an heir’s nightmare and a lawyer’s delight. But without one? Reports indicate Prince’s siblings are already locked in a bitter feud over the estate. One can only imagine the legal fees.

The Chicago Tribune quotes one estate planning attorney, Avi Kestenbaum, of New York, as saying, “It’s ironic, Prince, at age 57, spent 37 years making his legacy. He fought the music industry for control, and now he has no control.”

Which brings me back to my original question: How could someone with the assets of Prince not have a will?

Many people just don’t want to think about it. Deciding what will happen to what you’ve left upon your demise is unpleasant, and it takes time from the precious things you enjoy doing while you have time to live, activities like golfing, or fishing, or making money doing what you love to do.

And people often assume they have many more years to live, and so they procrastinate the process of preparing a will.

But Prince’s case underscores the importance of having a will, for when you don’t, you are allowing someone else, most likely someone you don't know, to decide what happens with what you have left behind.

Estate planning attorneys have stories about the surviving relatives who auctioned items that the deceased deeply wanted to stay within the family. Worse are the stories about the second wife who gets kicked out of her own home by children of the first wife because of an outdated will or not having a will at all.

Take time to make provisions for what will happen with what you have.

One way to avoid the dread of formulating a will is to think of the positive that can come from it.

I still think of the dear soul in my church who several years ago left a considerable sum to the church. Though absent from the flesh, her love continues to pervade the ministries of our church.

She is not alone; others have left provisions in their will for the church. Some people have left a specific dollar amount while others have left a percentage of their estate to the church.

And if you want, you can leave a portion to the church only if others named in your will are not living at the time of your death.

I say this not simply because I’m a minister in the church; too often, I have seen survivors fight over what someone worked a lifetime to earn, and I’ve thought, “How much more fruitful it could have been for the church or a charity to have benefited over a portion of that estate.”

I know what you might be thinking: “I’m far from Prince. My little bit won’t make a difference.”

But it can. As someone said, “It’s not what you would do with millions should that be your lot; it’s what you do with the dollar and a quarter you’ve got.”

And it doesn’t take much to make a positive difference, or for relatives to fight over it.

I had rather think of the positive that can come from whatever is left behind.

I read about a 10-year-old boy who watched his great granddad planting an apple tree in their backyard. His grandad had recently been diagnosed with a terminal illness and wasn’t expected to live long. The boy asked his great grandad why he was planting a tree he might not be around to enjoy. His great grandad answered, “Son, all my life I have eaten the fruit from trees that other people have planted. I figure it’s time I make sure there is some fruit around for others to enjoy after I’m gone.”

Others will no doubt enjoy what Prince left behind. But sadly, they may be throwing rotten apples at each other during the process.

A little planning can not only avoid the fight, but it can also make the fruit that’s left all the more enjoyable, and the sweet taste can last longer, too.