This Star Won't Go Out

She loved her family. She loved Abe. You know, it was easy to do, because we announced his birth from this pulpit. Remember that? We were pretty old then (speaking for myself!). We announced that we were going to have another one, which was a surprise to everybody. You know miracles still occur! So what do you do with a fifth baby? Well, you give it to your daughters. We don’t know what to do! We don’t have the energy so Mom went to bed and I went to work and that was it. You raise this kid. So Evangeline had him for the first year and then Esther the second year when he was one to two. She took care of him, and she homeschooled, which meant, “Would you take care of the baby while I get back on my feet?” She loved Abe and you can see that. You can see that online. You can see that if you knew them together.

She loved her Abby. She thought you, Abby, she thought you were perfect, smart, and witty. And I think if there’s someone she idealized most . . . you know, when she thought (I close my eyes and think, “man, who are those models out there, people I want to be like,” I think of Esther)—she thought of Abby. She said, “Wow I want to aspire to where Abby is.”

She loved Evangeline. Evangeline was there. Evangeline was there when she passed away. And her last conversations were with Angie. She thought Angie was the person that she most wanted to impress. Because Angie was so cool, Evangeline was so cool; she thought she was perfectly beautiful. She was absolutely right. She didn’t like fake people; she didn’t like doing mean things. But sometimes she did these sneaky things. This one time a few years ago when Evangeline, umm . . . when boys were still taboo, Esther created an online account for somebody named Chris and “Chris” began to e-mail Evangeline saying, “Hey I saw you at school and I think . . . ”

How do I know about that? Yeah. Parents, they know all these things. There are no secrets and if there are secrets you only have to wait till weddings and funerals and they all spill out.

So yeah, “Chris” would write her and say, “Evangeline, I saw you at school; you’re so cute, maybe you could leave a note for me?” Esther was just tricking her. Well, when Evangeline found out, of course she was livid and Esther wrote in her diary, she said, “I cannot live with Evangeline mad at me.” And then they worked it out.

Then Graham of course, you know, he’s wandered again. She loved Graham; she led him though the first five years of his life. Graham couldn’t speak very well. Some of you remember that. Graham would come into the room and say, “Subalooga-de-ba-laba-be-abagaba” and we’d look at each other—my wife and I, and Abby and Evangeline—and say, I don’t know. Then Esther would say, “Oh, he wants spaghetti with ice-cream and liver and onions on the side; a little bit of feta cheese in there and some sparkling cider to wash it down.” She knew exactly what he needed, and what he wanted and she was there for him; a special relationship all the days of her life.

And then, for my wife, for Lori; nobody served her as well as you did and you were there night and day, usually not complaining. I helped out a little bit. But no one served her better. Somebody said to Lori recently that she did what none of us could do and Lori said, “No, no . . .” she did, “what every one of us can do” because we all have the spark of life, right? We are all alive; we all have something to give.

She not only lived well and loved well, but she died well, you know, which is no surprise. She knew when to go and it was way too soon. You know how people hang around sometime and you’re like, “Weeellll, you know, I see that it’s getting late now and I believe the last train . . .” and then others, you’re like, “Yeah, well I guess it’s about time to get going.” And others you think, “Nooo! What are you talking about?! You can’t go now.” We didn’t want her to go now. We had things to look forward to, so many things to look forward to, so many friendships that were blossoming, so much of an impact that we saw; that we could feel. Angie was with her and we didn’t know it was the last moment; we didn’t know it was the end. Her very last words, her very last words were, “I’m going, I’m going.” And then she fell asleep and we were with her during those hours that she was sleeping.

I think about the things she’s going to miss, and I can’t, I can’t get my head around it. The things, the anniversaries, the first things . . . the first time I’m alone. I don’t know what that’s going to be like. The first time when I see someone her age and I need grace and we need grace to bear up under it. And God promises that to us, to give us that kind of Grace.