#52 Ancestors 52 Weeks – Challenge Week 43 Dead is Dead, Scott

#52 Ancestors 52 Weeks – Challenge Week 43
Prompt: Cause of Death

DEAD is DEAD!

By the Rev. Dr. Cynthia Forde 

Whatever the cause of death, ministering to families whose loved one has died is one of the most painful parts of being a pastor.  We grieve with those who mourn.  Dead is dead!  Yet, despite years of ministry to the dying and their families, we are never prepared when death’s dark shadow falls on one of our own.  Whatever the cause of death, when that happens at home, we taste the bitter gall. 

1 September 1998, I became an unwilling member of Parents who Follow Caskets.  My oldest son Scott Stanley Forde, born on 13 May 1961, died at M. D. Anderson Hospital in Houston, Texas.  In April of 1998, Scott was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia.  He survived five months.  Because of extensive chemotherapy for bone marrow and stem cell transplants, he contracted a fungal infection from the shunt while in the sterile bubble room at the famous cancer hospital.  The hospital learned only later that the water pipes into the room carried fungus; Scott had zero immune systems remaining after the ravages of chemotherapy; the fungus traveled to his brain, and it was listed as the cause of death.  He died leukemia-free.  Whatever the cause of death, dead is dead.  For me, the question became, how do I live? 

Scott’s widow Karen asked me to write something about our family for Samantha and Steven, their two small children.  That request proved to be an incredible gift.  Because I could not write about Scott without drowning the computer keyboard, I started writing about my most distant ancestors; I did research.  I wrote stories.  I did genealogy.  Writing the stories was my grief work.

Through the ensuing years, I pondered these questions: Genealogy?  Why live in the past?   What is the importance of knowing family names and dates?   Why would anyone spend years researching family history?   Who cares?

As a minister, I turn to Scripture for answers.   The Word of God says not to be concerned about genealogy, on the one hand, yet on the other hand, what serious student of the Bible has not skipped quickly over countless recitations of who begat whom?  Why, indeed, is the genealogy in Scripture?   For Christians, the answer is that genealogies in Scripture point to Jesus Christ.   But, one of the best answers I have heard for all of the "begets" came from a young Jewish girl on the day of her Bat Mitzvah commenting on the Book of Numbers.   "God is counting His treasure."

It helps to re-frame the questions in the light of the girl's response: God treasures each of us.   We are of inestimable value, regardless of sojourn: long or short, well-traveled or not.   God loves us beyond our wildest imagination.   From the time we begin our journey from God until our return to God, having breathed our last, we are God's treasure.

Therefore, as we add to God's story during our sojourn on earth, we increase God's treasure.   We do this, of course, simply because we exist, move, breathe and live out the days of our lives in whatever circumstances we are given.   Our Creator values us immensely.  Each soul is God-kissed, God-breathed, God's glistening gold.  This is most certainly true - as Martin Luther would remind us.  It does not matter whether or not others recognize and validate our worth; the value does not change.

How often do you hear or read about someone who has found a priceless painting or valuable treasure digging through heaps of junk?  My mother's experience proves the point; she tried everything to remove the greenish-black substance that formed on the tea service my parents were given as a wedding gift.   Nothing worked.   She sent it to the garbage dump.  When she told my dad, he went to the dump immediately to search for it.  Unfortunately for my mother, someone else realized they had discovered silver!

In researching family history, I unearthed untold treasure - stories. Each box of genealogical data tells me a story.   It brings me in touch with the struggles, losses, hopes and joys of those who have preceded me.  It gives me insight into the heartaches that must have accompanied the loss of a child - and in many cases, several children.   It has helped me cope with the loss of my own child.

A good example is the story of the church bells in Kensett, Iowa.   Knud Savre's young daughter became the first white person to be buried in that community.   Two more daughters died within a short time.   Imagine how painful it must have been for that pioneer family to lose three daughters.  They gave church bells in memory of the young girls.   Doesn't this story create a longing in your heart to go to the church in Kensett and listen to the bells?  Do the bells toll or peal, clap or ring?  Do they echo the laughter of little girls?  How should bells sound to remember beloved daughters?

Another excellent example of the treasure trove in stories: In 1987, we visited my mother's paternal ancestral home in Dade County, Georgia, just south of Chattanooga, Tennessee.   I met with the president of the Historical Society of Dade County.  They had heard of our Miller family, but the county history books did not have any information about them.   I gave them an unpublished autobiography of one of the sons, John Thornton Miller.

The diary was a great gift.   It contained the only written record of that early history.   It offered previously unknown information, names of teachers and preachers long forgotten. But most importantly, John T. Miller shared his reflections and impressions of what it was like to grow up amid the beautiful Dade Valley, and familial values and philosophies are brought to light.   The diary is being published in the Dade County History Book.

An important question was answered for the surrounding community, "Why does the Miller family cemetery exist without Millers buried in it.?" I had the answer to the question, "There is a Miller buried in the cemetery. Elizabeth Miller Tatum died giving birth to her first child. It was built on her behalf."  I could answer the first part of the question: "But there is a Miller buried there," because the story was handed down to me.  Sadly enough, twelve years later, I can answer the second part of the question, 'Why is it landscaped so elaborately?'

One hundred and forty years after Elizabeth Miller's death, Scott died.   We created a cemetery on our ranch at his request.   It, too, was landscaped with great consideration. Scott requested a simple boulder for his headstone; he wanted to express his love of nature.   In the Miller cemetery, there is a large boulder.   While we have no idea if it marks Elizabeth's grave, for the sake of the story, we hope so.   Elizabeth's and Scott's stories were submitted to the National Cemetery Register when we recorded our new cemetery, 'Scott's Grove.' Someday, descendants will value both story and the cemetery.

Stories are treasures.   Stories are discovered by paying attention: how is a child named?, what is the birth order?  Why do we see certain migration and emigration patterns? Attention to detail bears fruit.   Stories begin to unfold.  Connections form.

Each story is yet another connection from past to present and on to the future.  Most interesting to see is how the stories of families connect from generation to generation. Some families grow in strength and numbers.  Other families fracture and become fragments drifting apart.

Some of the surprises are more treasure than others.  We would rather some of the stories not be told - I did not tell stories that would embarrass anyone.   Nor did I tell the stories of rich and famous ancestors so they would be the dazzling connections that stand out for time and posterity.   The connections to each other - good or bad - totally miss the point.   The real treasure is the value of interconnectedness: the schema, if you will, of something greater and grander at work.   It is like an incredible gigantic tapestry woven by God.   God spun a thread that runs through us and on to the future.  I named this thread, The Spirit Runner.

The Spirit Runner is the connecting thread, woven invisibly and intricately, deeper than DNA or quantum energy spun in the reality of physics.   It is our umbilical cord connecting us to God and to each other revealed in the art of telling stories of events.   A conception, gestation, birth, blood, water, tears, a fast in the wilderness, water to wine, and finally, our salvation played out with agony, defeat, the death of a child, a body in a grave; then taken up into the center of the incredible mystery of the Holy Trinity.  In the grand scheme, the cause of death is of no consequence.  Our stories are God's stories about ‘why we are.’