December 16 2011 the day my father passed away in his chair, in his home, just the way he wanted it. A stubborn man, maybe the most stubborn man I've ever had the joy and pleasure of knowing. Since that day I have had a multitude of emotion. Oddly I think the biggest emotion is one of thankfulness. Thankfulness that he was my dad. Thankfulness for the time we had. Thankfulness for the lessons learned and taught. Mostly though thankful for the way he left this world. He had been sick for several years but the last six months or so was really excruciating for him and us. He worked every day, even until his last week. He was full of water and could hardly walk from his chair to the restroom, but somehow, he managed to walk up a flight of stairs to get to his office. He was amazing and I, being a respiratory therapist in my past, was surprised every day he made it home. He was not a man who would have done well with anyone taking "care" of him. I was terrified of the day when we'd have to tell him, "your done driving". It was a blessing that he passed the exact way he would have designed it. Perfect.
So here we are just over two months later. Today was the first time since Christmas that I went to my parents house. As I turned the corner, I felt the tears start to form. The thought of walking in and not seeing him in his chair has been more than I could manage.
I let myself in at 6:30am and walked passed his spot. The spot where his chair used to sit. The spot where he sat for years and watched sports and hunting shows. The spot he took his last breath. I hurried to the back of the house where my mother was still in bed. We chatted for a while and then it was time; time to go through some things mother has been asking me to go through for a month. So with many tears and happy memories flooding my brain I went through his closet. I put on his shirt and wiped my tears with his sleeve. There are many more closets and things to go through. I've made the first step and I think I'm up for the steps ahead. I love my dad, I miss my dad…
The following is what I wrote and said at his memorial service. Please be aware that when I wrote this I just wrote I didn't care about spelling and punctuation.
I always knew I would speak at Robins service. I spoke at my grandparents funerals and after doing that and feeling how healing it was I knew that when Robin passed I would say something. But a couple months ago Robin wrote me and asked "Once I'm gone I'd be proud for you to stand up for me with a kind word." Oh the pressure! Since that day I’ve tried in my head to write something over and over again. My thought was that i would write it and share it with him. I wanted him to know how important he was in my life. It seems we save a lot of our sentiment for when people are gone and I just wanted him to know before. Well as I sit here now the day before his service to write this on paper I obviously didn’t get it done. It’s not to say that Robin didn’t know how I felt. I wrote him a lot over the last few months and shared my thoughts about him. We often wrote it because for both of us it was too difficult to say, neither of us is comfortable with that type of thing. He knew how much I loved him and I KNOW how much he loves me.
Robin Ray Hyder was born of a Virgin Father in the fall of 1946 four months after my mothers birth. Which forever brought him great joy that he was younger than mother. He came into our lives when I was in the third grade I won’t say the year because it’s so long ago I can’t remember. HE was sooo cool with his thick dark mustache and his t-top black trans am. I often likened him to Burt Reynolds Smokey and the Bandit to which he would gasp Piffle!
When I was in the 4th grade we all moved together to a home in Beaverton and the year after that we moved once again. In that home my parents where married and i took Robins last name. There is an old adage that you can pick your friends but you can’t pick your family. Well, Robin picked us and we were family
Robin was never Dad unless I was speaking about him to someone else. He was never father because he always said I had a father. But I tell you here and now and for those who know me well, HE IS MY DAD and HE IS my FATHER. He was a constant in my life of love acceptance protector confidant friend fan well the list could go on and on. He Loved Me unconditionally like any good father does. They say that fathers and daughters have a special relationship and I tell you that was so true of Robin and I.
I loved to camp, fish and shoot with Robin. When I was young it was something that we did together just him and I. It was our time. We would meet up with his friends who called him Bird and anything that happened while camping or fishing... well lets just say what happens in the middle of nowhere stays in the middle of nowhere.
Robin was stubborn up to the end. He was opinionated and his opinion was final. arguing with Robin was always thought to be a waste of time. But I tell you, he thought about things and his rigidness over the years softened but if he said that was it, be assured it was.
He loved my mother whom he called Jean for years which later turned to mom and finally grandma. He loved my mother more than I can fully express and to his dying day worked so that she would be okay. Robin was a true gentleman who always opened the doors for her and would often leave love notes on the board in the kitchen. His notes and letters most often ended with Love you 2000 pounds.
He called me pumpkin seed when I was off to bed or leaving for more than a day. One of my most treasured possessions is a stuffed dog he gave me in the 4th grade. He was the most generous human and did things for people he didn’t speak of much but one I will share with you is that every year around this time of year he would fill up his tank with gas and look around the station for a person who looked like they needed a hand. He would then go and buy them a tank of gas. He always said it wasn’t much but maybe it would free up a couple bucks to get a christmas present under their tree. Pretty funny for a guy who proclaimed he hated Christmas.
He loves his grandchildren and his awkwardness with new borns was priceless. I think Ethan was the first and only diaper he ever changed. He was thrilled to have three more enter into his life with Amanda Kristie and Ryan. When Claire showed up his eyes twinkled and for the first time he reached out for a new born baby and wanted to hold her, he’d done it before and now couldn’t wait to do it again. He loved Tara and he indulged her every want.
Robin was not a religious man and he would probably be somewhat peeved that we are all here today sitting in a church. But on the other hand he did believe and he knew that in the last few years being in this place brought me comfort so I don’t think he really minds to much and probably is happy to have us here today. You see Robin wanted what was best for us, Always what was best for us. He went without to make sure we had the best. And even if he didn’t necessarily agree if it made us happy he was all for it. A great example of that in my life is Samantha. and to be very clear he loved her not only because I love her but because he respected her and that is an amazing most precious gift.
Robins life wasn’t the easiest but he always saw the silver lining. He had regrets, none greater than the time he missed with his daughter Rhonda. Robin was asstranged from his family in his young life but was very pleased to rekindle his relationships with his dad and brother later in life. He did things in his life he wasn’t too proud of but he did his best to make restitution in his later years. Robin was Honest to the core. If he didn’t believe it he wouldn’t say it, that didn’t mean that everything he said was kind but it was true.
Robin loved to have you visit. and it was always so funny to me because he didn’t talk much until you were ready to go. When I would say goodnight and start to head for bed that’s when he’d pipe up I’d end up standing in the hall for another 20 minutes then I’d make my way to the stairs and be up about two steps for another 20 minutes then halfway up for another 20... it was the same when I had a home of my own. To the hall for 20 minutes the porch for 20 at my car door for 20 and even in my car for 20. He just didn’t want you to leave. He was happy knowing you were just there... Well Robin, I want another 60 minutes another two weeks I want to tell you how gosh darn much I love you How much you mean to me I want to kiss you on the cheek and tell you I’ll see you later I want to know that you will be right there waiting for me and I guess, you are I’m sure you’ve got the best spot all staked out... I just hope you did it in the daylight because sleeping on a slope doesn’t work too good. I love you 2000 pounds and I’ll see ya later.
Peace,
Kim
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
The Gift of Hospitality
Hospitality: Simply, is the relationship between a host and guest. The reception of those who are guests, visitors and strangers. In more ancient times it was considered a duty, to care for and protect those who came into your home.
Today, I think we look on hospitality as a moment in time. A moment that we must smile, make polite conversation maybe offer drink and bread and then move along. We invite people we know into our homes, in the hopes of learning more about each other, strengthening our bonds.
What about the stranger and the visitor? How then do we make them feel welcomed? How do we bridge the gap of our comfort levels and their need to feel accepted? It strikes me how different things are now compared to even 30 years ago. We are skeptical. We are standoffish, shy and even fearful. In a world of “stranger danger” how are we to truly feel comfortable in allowing strangers in?
I remember being a young girl living in a small eastern Oregon town. A place where it is said every one knows everyone. Even though this isn’t an actual fact, you don’t really know EVERYONE. There was a feeling of community of hospitality. If a stranger was stranded on the side of the road you would stop and assist them. There wasn’t a real fear that they may actually be setting up a scam or have friends in the bushes waiting to pounce you. Today, this is what we expect. We are aware that that person saying they need help may actually be a criminal and will in fact hurt you.
So, where does this leave us. Not just as individuals but as a community and more importantly as a church community? We need to step back and look at what “the church” has done to hospitality. For those who are divorced, poor, gay etc. “the church” has been unkind and unwelcoming. Even if you and your church have been open and accepting, you have to remember that the long perceived notion is that faith based communities are not. It is a struggle to break the mold and really be a Welcoming, Hospitable community. We need to remember that when a stranger comes to our Church home we need to care for and protect them. We need to remember that they are waiting for the shoe to drop and the daggers to fly. That their walls of protection will be up against us, even though they seek their refuge in us.
It’s interesting to me, the challenges we face as a faith community. Creator Lutheran, my home church, adopted an All Are Welcome approach a couple years ago now. I believe that these are not just words but a true representation of our feeling as an open congregation. Even with that it’s difficult for some to break out of their personal comfort zones and be truly hospitable. It’s difficult for me.
I think when you break down the community and remember that we are all just individuals sharing the same church home it can become a bit overwhelming. Who is our leader in this? Who did we decide would be our spokesperson, our hospitable leader? The answer is, no one. The answer is, every one!
In 1 Peter 4:8-10 it is said, “Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaining. Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received.” To me this is a beginning, a realization that I need not be the one with the chipper smile and a big “hello, welcome”. This may or may not be my “gift”. The real work is to find your “gift” and to share it. Share it with the ones you know and whom already love you. Maybe more importantly share it with the one who has no knowledge of you. Share it with the one who is seeking to belong, seeking love and acceptance, seeking grace.
Find your gift! Express your gift! Share your gift!
Peace,
Kim
Today, I think we look on hospitality as a moment in time. A moment that we must smile, make polite conversation maybe offer drink and bread and then move along. We invite people we know into our homes, in the hopes of learning more about each other, strengthening our bonds.
What about the stranger and the visitor? How then do we make them feel welcomed? How do we bridge the gap of our comfort levels and their need to feel accepted? It strikes me how different things are now compared to even 30 years ago. We are skeptical. We are standoffish, shy and even fearful. In a world of “stranger danger” how are we to truly feel comfortable in allowing strangers in?
I remember being a young girl living in a small eastern Oregon town. A place where it is said every one knows everyone. Even though this isn’t an actual fact, you don’t really know EVERYONE. There was a feeling of community of hospitality. If a stranger was stranded on the side of the road you would stop and assist them. There wasn’t a real fear that they may actually be setting up a scam or have friends in the bushes waiting to pounce you. Today, this is what we expect. We are aware that that person saying they need help may actually be a criminal and will in fact hurt you.
So, where does this leave us. Not just as individuals but as a community and more importantly as a church community? We need to step back and look at what “the church” has done to hospitality. For those who are divorced, poor, gay etc. “the church” has been unkind and unwelcoming. Even if you and your church have been open and accepting, you have to remember that the long perceived notion is that faith based communities are not. It is a struggle to break the mold and really be a Welcoming, Hospitable community. We need to remember that when a stranger comes to our Church home we need to care for and protect them. We need to remember that they are waiting for the shoe to drop and the daggers to fly. That their walls of protection will be up against us, even though they seek their refuge in us.
It’s interesting to me, the challenges we face as a faith community. Creator Lutheran, my home church, adopted an All Are Welcome approach a couple years ago now. I believe that these are not just words but a true representation of our feeling as an open congregation. Even with that it’s difficult for some to break out of their personal comfort zones and be truly hospitable. It’s difficult for me.
I think when you break down the community and remember that we are all just individuals sharing the same church home it can become a bit overwhelming. Who is our leader in this? Who did we decide would be our spokesperson, our hospitable leader? The answer is, no one. The answer is, every one!
In 1 Peter 4:8-10 it is said, “Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaining. Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received.” To me this is a beginning, a realization that I need not be the one with the chipper smile and a big “hello, welcome”. This may or may not be my “gift”. The real work is to find your “gift” and to share it. Share it with the ones you know and whom already love you. Maybe more importantly share it with the one who has no knowledge of you. Share it with the one who is seeking to belong, seeking love and acceptance, seeking grace.
Find your gift! Express your gift! Share your gift!
Peace,
Kim
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