Celebration of a Surrendered Life

We almost missed it. We were doing normal Saturday things this morning; I was balancing the bank account and Mom had begun to read the paper, when she called out, "Lowell Davis passed away! There's a memorial service for him at 11 this morning at Brentwood. We should go." It was already 10:20am, so we scurried about a bit to get dressed and hurried to the service.

For the benefit of the two or three readers outside this family, Lowell and Odessa Davis were a most unusual couple; elderly when they arrived in Austin, they had already led a life full of adventure and intrigue, and they acted as if they were just getting started. They were married for 74 years.

They met in China - each a missionary from a different religious affiliation. They decided Jesus was bigger than either affiliation, so they set an early example of unification and married. They worked together in China for a dozen years until a friend whispered to them that the Japanese Army of Occupation had Lowell on a "Terminate List" and they fled on foot with 2 small children and the clothes on their backs, leading a group of similarly threatened refugees to safety, hiding by day and fleeing through the countryside by night.

Lowell was silent about his reason for being on the list until just recently. It seems he was going up in the hills with his binoculars and reporting ship movements in the harbor to a friend of his. When Lowell's son heard this explanation he exclaimed, "Dad! You were a spy!" Lowell just shook his head and said, "I wasn't spying. I was just sharing information."

Back in the US, they were both educators for many years, but usually at poor, out-of-the way schools - sometimes in areas were the primary population was some indigenous group. I don't know why they came to Austin to retire, but that's when we got to know them. They lived in a mobile home and made an arrangement to put the trailer just south of the church building, where they stayed for a number of years. There are plans to plant a tree on that spot soon.

There was even a family relationship to Lowell; he was in some manner related to Aunt Audene, who was married to Granddaddy Brown's brother Eddy - parents of Sandy Brown Lowe and Randy Brown. Audene was at the service.

Lowell and Odessa were an integral part of Brentwood for many years. Odessa's sharp mind slipped away and she's in a care facility now. Lowell couldn't hear a word that was said in church for the last several years, but when someone would ask why he kept coming, he said, "I want Satan to know which side I'm on."

Two of his children, Steve Fuller, and Lowell spoke at his funeral. Several years ago Steve taped several interviews with Lowell regarding his years in China and his service as an educator. This was part of the Library of Congress' Spoken History project. Steve talked about his interviews and the recorded voice of Lowell spoke to various issues Steve brought up. It was very seamless and quite well done. It was good to hear him again.

The Most Unusual Wedding

I have blogged about weddings before, but the one I did last night takes the wedding cake. Actually, I should say the one I did last night and this morning takes the cake, because the ceremony started in 2007 (at 11:30pm), paused to note the stroke of midnight ("You may kiss the bride or whoever is sitting close to you.") and concluded in 2008 with the "I Do's."

The original intent was to pronounce the couple man and wife on the stroke of midnight, but weddings always start 8 minutes late and you never know how long the Bride is going to dance, or how long one's sister-in-law is going to preach - uh, exhort the couple, or how long it takes to serve the audience communion. My hat's off to Kevin for skillfully working in the New Year and the New Family.

I know what you are thinking. I'll get to that in a moment.

The timing was not the only unusual aspect of this wedding. It appeared on the radar last Friday as a very simple wedding with one song to be played. By Sunday morning, it was a multi-year affair with PowerPoint scriptures, 3 songs on CD, 2 congregational hymns, a song leader, the afore-mentioned sister-in-law, a guy playing a guitar and a video count-down. Oh, did I mention the part about showing "Facing The Giants" on the big screens while the pre-wedding dinner was going on in the Family Room?

After explaining that no one was going to be available for the various video aspects of this wedding (with the Holiday, we barely scrapped up enough guys for Sunday) they reluctantly agreed to an audio-only version.

This was the 2nd marriage for this couple. They had married before, stayed together long enough for 2 boys to be born, divorced, essentially remained a couple for the sake of the boys and finally decided they needed to remarry. Kevin and his wife Karen (with 2 boys about the same age) met them while attending Brentwood basketball games; they got to know them, learned of the status of the family and helped counsel them back into a marriage.

Okay. Yes, I did say the Bride danced. Came down the aisle barefoot and in a long skirt and gave us her interpretation of Nicole C. Mullin's "When You Call on Jesus." All four minutes and fifty-seven seconds of it. Apparently she does this often at Shoreline. I think Kevin summed it up when he said to me later. "I'm pretty sure that's the first time that has happened in this auditorium." I have nothing to add to that.

Have a Happy New Year. I'm going back to bed.

Christmas is over

And what a fine Christmas it was (and still is, if you count lingering leftovers)! Here's my final word on really feeling the spirit of Christmas and experiencing it's joy.

It was Christmas Eve and we were ready. The only reason that we had gone to the Shopping Center was to grab lunch and pick up one more item for Christmas Dinner. The guy parked across the aisle from us was obviously not done, however; he was kneeling down beside his car, struggling to wrap a large package there on the pavement. He had his newly purchased adhesive tape, his newly purchased wrapping paper and his newly purchased gift, but kneeling on a parking lot is not the most suitable wrapping area, and he was struggling. Really struggling.

Just as I asked Mom "Where is the camera when you need it?" he disgustedly picked up the partially-wrapped package, threw it into his car, jumped in and and squealed his tires all the way to the exit!

I hope your Christmas was merrier.

The Visit

The anxiety that had gripped him – all but consumed him – since he had received his instructions held him motionless before the small village. “This can’t be right,” he thought. “This backwater village in this backwater region can’t be the place.” He almost thought, “There must be a mistake,” before he caught himself. No, there was no mistake, but that didn’t ease the sense of despair, the dread that had overwhelmed him since he had been sent on this mission.

He thought back to his summons before the Throne. There, before the Most High and a small group of angels, the Word had told him that He was going to leave heaven and go to Earth as a human, to become the King of the wayward and rebellious people and turn them back to the Father. He thought at that moment the heavens would fracture and they would all fall into the abyss, but that was just the beginning. The Word went on to explain how He was going to become human, and who His earthly mother would be and that he, Gabriel, in his role as messenger was to go and prepare her. He had already carried out a similar mission six months ago by appearing to Zechariah, the priest and foretelling the birth of a son. He chuckled a bit at having left Zechariah speechless. But that was different; Elizabeth was just old and childless. This… this was something altogether different.

Now Gabriel stood in the dark on the road before the little village of Nazareth, a collection of mud houses nestled on a hillside in Galilee, one of many such villages, none notable. Some of the houses seemed piled on top of others against the hill, mud roof of one becoming the courtyard of another. Some were white-washed; most were not. At the end of the street a few awnings stretched across poles marked where the vendors made a market each day. The market was empty now, as were the streets. All of Nazareth was indoors.

Gabriel strode quickly to the house. Pausing before the door, he tried to muster as much angelic aura as he could, but aura – and almost everything else – had been sucked out of him. He pushed the heavy curtain aside and stepped into the room. She was alone, as he knew she would be. She was startled at his abrupt entrance, but not as much as Gabriel was. “A child!” he thought. “She’s just a child.” He knew the way of the humans – the betrothals at a very early age, the arranged weddings – but to actually see her just confirmed all the dread he felt. “What was He thinking? This skinny girl cannot be the mother of the King of Israel!”

Pushing aside his misgivings, Gabriel set to his task and exclaimed in his most angelic voice, “Greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.” He was chagrined at the weak and trembling way the proclamation actually came out. He cleared his throat.

Mary stared at Gabriel in shock. She was startled, but there was nothing to be afraid of in Nazareth. Certainly there was nothing threatening about this man, stranger though he was. What troubled her was his greeting. Mary was a non-person in Nazareth; hardly anyone ever spoke to her at all, least of all strangers, and this was certainly not what a stranger said to you – not even a stranger who burst into your house unannounced. This wasn’t even a greeting that the Rabbi would make – not that the Rabbi ever spoke to her – but this… this greeting made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Gabriel, aware that he had startled Mary, quickly said, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God.”

Now Mary was afraid. First, this stranger knew her name. The neighbors didn’t even know her name. Then he said he knew something about her that she didn’t know – and what he knew came from God. Deep down, the first tiny spark of knowledge of who this stranger was and what was happening snapped into being. Yes, now Mary was very afraid.

“You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”

Mary heard the words but they didn’t make sense. Then she began to process them, first the part about having a son, then the part about her son being given the throne of David. The little spark was burning white-hot now. Then she went back to the beginning – the part about being with child. Yes, she was engaged to Joseph, and they would marry soon, but something told her this was not what was meant. She lowered her eyes for a moment, then raised them to Gabriel and said, “How can this be? I... I’ve never been with a man.”

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. That’s why the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.”

Gabriel saw the flash of terror pass through Mary like a lightning bolt. She turned her head away, but Gabriel had seen her eyes wide with alarm. “It’s too much for this child,” he thought. “She can’t handle this.” He sought some way to comfort her. He said gently, “Your cousin Elizabeth is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. Nothing is impossible with God.”

Mary looked at the angel, for she knew full well now that this stranger was from God. Her heart pounded as if it would leave her body. Her mind raced from one thought to another. God has chosen me… What will Joseph say…? It’s not possible… Nothing is impossible with God… What will mother say…? The Messiah – at last…! This can’t be happening to me… Me! God has chosen me…! Why me…? What will father say…? There’s an angel standing in my house… What will the neighbors say…? What of the shame…! Mother of the Messiah…! What will Joseph’s family say…? What…?

Gabriel was stunned. He felt the emotional turmoil, sensed the burning questions as they caromed through her consciousness. He was certain she was going to bolt into the street and he positioned himself squarely before the door to stop her flight when it came. The whole future of creation hung on the answer from this child and he was powerless as to its outcome.

Slowly, the Spirit calmed her mind, softened the trip hammer of her heart, and brought stillness to her thoughts. She looked at Gabriel a long time, then bowed her head and said. “May it be to me as you have said.”

Gabriel blinked once or twice, trying to decide what to do next, but there was no next. His work was done. There was nothing more to say, so he just turned and stepped back into the street. He paused in the dark passage, thinking about what had just happened. He had delivered a preposterous message to a totally improbable girl and she had received it in stride – and was prepared to act on it. Smiling to himself, he set off to find Joseph.

That's what I'm talking about!

Today I refer you to WaiterRant - a quirky blog we've followed for a while, written by a waiter in a high-dollar bistro in New York (be aware that it's not on the list of church of Christ blogs). Waiter pulls off what I have only wanted to. Here's how he starts:

"Its 4:30 and I get sat my first customers of the day – a young couple with a screaming, kicking, red faced, snot dripping three year old boy. I take a deep calming breath, flick on my waiter smile, and head over to the table. The parents, embarrassed by their offspring’s behavior, watch my approach with a mixture of apology and fear. The little boy, as all children do, is screaming about getting something he wants when he wants it. As the child’s delivering his full throated spittle laden ultimatum, a little bubble of mucous elongates out of his nose and pops. The resultant effluence drips down his chin.

Arriving at the table I don’t say anything to the parents - I focus all my towering attention on the little boy. As I stare into his big watery eyes he instantly falls silent. The parents are amazed.

“Who is this man?” I ask the little boy, pointing to the bearded caricature painted on my tacky Christmas tie.

“Santa,” the child blurts.

“And what does Santa do?”

“Brings toys.”

“That’s right,” I say, winking at the mother, who at this point, wants to leave her husband and shack up with me. “You know that Santa only brings toys to good children don’t you? Have you been a good boy this year?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been a good boy? No crying and yelling?”

“Yes,” the child lies, wiping his nose with a crusty shirtsleeve.

“So you’re going to be nice and quiet while I talk to your Mommy and Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like chocolate milk?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re good and Mommy says it’s okay I’ll bring you some. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

I look at the mother. Hopefully this kid’s not Jewish and lactose intolerant.

“That would be great,” the mother says, hero worship shining in her blue eyes.

“Okay then,” I say. “When I finish talking to Mommy and Daddy I’ll bring you some chocolate milk.”

“Okay,” the boy says.

“Carson,” the mother coos, “What do you say to the nice man?”

“Thank you,” the boy says automatically.

“You’re welcome, sir,” I reply."

Here's the rest of the story.