With Flying Colors

“A capable, intelligent, and virtuous woman – who is he who can find her? She is far more precious than jewels and her value is far above rubies or pearls.” ~ Proverbs 31:10

Remember when I said I was going to try to start writing shorter columns? Well, I’ve made very little progress in that department, but this week I’ll probably break a record. My computer has been in the shop for over a week and the technicians still haven’t diagnosed the problem. I never realized how much I depend on e-mail as a form of communication! So last week I went to the Manhattan Public Library to do a little catching up, and now I am at our house in Manhattan trying to get this column out before I head for home and start preparing for a trip to Cedar Rapids, Iowa this weekend to attend our niece Melissa’s wedding.

Between the loss of my computer and back-to-back trips, I’ve been a bit distracted. For that reason, this week’s column will be short and next week I won’t have time to write a column at all. But I’ll return the following week, just after my 47th birthday on July 3rd, which is also the 2nd anniversary of the start of my Reflections column.

Two weekends ago I flew to Ohio to attend my daughter-in-law’s graduation from nursing school on June 11th. Erin (Jared’s wife) graduated summa cum laude with an Associate of Applied Science Degree in Nursing from Marion Technical College. We feel especially proud of Erin for this great accomplishment because of the difficult circumstances she faced while pursuing her degree.

First of all, she has been living with her parents while Jared has been serving in Navy in Mississippi. They see each other for a month during the summer and off and on throughout the year. Erin’s parents, John and Lu Stricklin, have gone above and beyond the call of duty by allowing Erin and the boys to live in their house for the past several years. But they both have full time jobs, so for the most part, Erin has been fully responsible for the care of Asher, age 5, and Gabriel, age 2. In fact, Gabriel was born on the day Erin was scheduled to start nursing school the first time. Ah, the well laid plans of mice and men....

In an unfortunate irony, little Gabe ended up back in the hospital on the eve of Erin’s graduation. He had been sick with a bad cough for the days leading up to the graduation, but when nurse Erin got out her stethoscope and listened to his breathing, she decided that she and Jared needed to take him to the ER right away. After Gabe was admitted, the doctor ordered chest x-rays, which were inconclusive for pneumonia. But one thing was certain – he was one very sick little baby.


Erin & Gabe in hospital with Erin's parents, John & Lu

During the night Gabe’s fever spiked to 104.6 so they kept him on an intravenous tube throughout his stay. One time Gabe turned to his mommy and said two heart wrenching little words: “Help me.” So Jared and Erin got virtually no sleep for the two nights preceding Erin’s graduation. Erin’s sister Misty stayed with Gabe at the hospital during the graduation ceremony – then her mom traded places with Misty so she could attend the pinning ceremony. That night I offered to stay with Gabe at the hospital so Jared and Erin could get some much needed rest. (They were also able to attend the graduation party of a fellow nursing student whom Erin had tutored.)

Gabe and I had a special bonding time that night, although he will never remember it. The first half of my grandma tour of duty, however, was a complete nightmare. He coughed and cried off and on and sometimes he would thrash about in so violently that I could barely hold him down. I was also worried about the I.V. tube and needle in his little arm. Then every two hours the nurse would come in and administer a respiratory treatment where they would put a little mask over his face and have him breathe in the medicinal vapors. Around 2:30 he miraculously calmed down and we both slept for five hours until Jared, Erin and Asher arrived at 7:30 to find grandma and grandson sleeping like babies side by side.

Despite the unexpected turn of events and the accompanying stress, I still came away feeling like it was a wonderful trip. I so enjoyed spending time with Jared, Erin, Asher and Gabe. Several times Asher gave me a hug and said, “I just want to tell you that I love you, Grandma.”

Thank God Gabe was released from the hospital after three days and is back to his usual rambunctious self. His stay in the hospital seemed symbolic of the many challenges Erin faced along the road to accomplishing her goal of becoming an RN. Raising two boys by herself while working in home health and tutoring other students and then graduating with top honors is indeed a great accomplishment.

Last week Erin called with some more exciting news. “I need big prayers!” she exclaimed into the phone. She had just learned that she would be able to take her final boards/exam on Tuesday, June 21st. “God willing, I’ll be an RN by the time I move to Mississippi.” (Note: Erin later learned that she passed her boards!)

That’s the other big change in their lives. Now that Erin has earned her nursing degree, she and the boys will be moving to Mississippi to finally be reunited with Jared. As Asher says, “I’m gonna live with my daddy forever!”

It’s been a long road for the whole family, but I’d say they all passed with flying colors!

“And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of the things that were spoken to her from the Lord.” ~ Luke 1:45


Jared, Erin & Asher on Erin's Graduation Day ~ June 11, 2005

God Hates Hate

“Behold, how good and how pleasant [it is] for brethren to dwell together in unity!” ~ Psalm 133:1 (KJV)

The weekend before last I attended the Women of Faith conference at Kemper Arena in Kansas City – compliments of my good friend, Rhonda Smith. My daughter-in-law Lisa went with me to the Friday night conference which featured an inspirational presentation from Jennifer Rothschild (www.jenniferrothschild.com). Although Jennifer lost her sight to disease at the age of fifteen, she has managed to maintain her faith in God along with an amazingly positive attitude. Jennifer is married with two sons and is the author of “Lessons I Learned in the Dark” and her latest release, “Touched by His Unseen Hand.”

On the morning of the Saturday conference I flipped open the Bible and my eyes fell directly on the above verse. What a fitting Scripture for the Women of Faith! That is precisely what makes their conferences so special; women gathering from all walks of life and different religious denominations to celebrate something we share in common – a love for the Lord.

In contrast to the demonstration of unity within the walls of Kemper Arena, however, Fred Phelps and his clan of hate mongers were picketing on the street corner outside of the conference. I couldn’t believe my eyes – although, nothing should surprise me when it comes to the Phelps family. Still, I wondered why on earth they would be picketing the Women of Faith conference!

“Hate is the consequence of fear; we fear something before we hate it; a child who fears noises becomes a man who hates noise.”
~ Cyril Connolly, English journalist, editor and writer (1903 - 1974)

I know I am not alone in my feeling of utter disgust by the messages displayed on the Phelps’ signs; messages so vile that I cannot even repeat them in my column. And to think that they do this in the name of God is simply incredulous. God, who is love, doesn’t hate homosexuals, as the Phelps’ profess. In fact, God doesn’t hate ANYONE! Most of us are familiar with the message of John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life." That is the Good News in a nutshell. Then the next verse reads: “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.”

It saddens me deeply to see the Phelps family traveling all across the country picketing events and funerals of gay men.

“Hatred, which could destroy so much, never failed to destroy the man who hated, and this was an immutable law.”
~ James Baldwin, American novelist and essayist (1924 - 1987)

The Bible says that the tongue is a restless evil – with it we praise the Lord and with it we curse men who have been made in God's likeness. “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so.” (James 3:18-10)

One of the other speakers at the Women of Faith conference was Sheila Walsh. Sheila shared a story about a time when her young son Christian was pulling off the petals of a flower saying, “I love my mommy, I don’t love my mommy.” Then when he got down to one petal he was on “I don’t love my mommy,” so he turned to her and said, “Mommy, this flower is one petal short.” Sheila went on to say that God is never “one pedal short.” He always loves us – no matter what we’ve done or how many mistakes we’ve made in our life. God’s only language is the language of love – pure and simple.

Sheila then shared the following Biblical passage. After reading this, I don’t see how the Phelps could ever proclaim that God hates anyone:

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things? Who shall bring a charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, and furthermore is also risen, who is even at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” ~ Romans 8:31-35;37-39 (NKJV)

The following tale by poet, journalist and humorist Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911) titled, “The House by the Side of the Road” seems apropos:

“He was a friend to man, and lived in a house by the side of the road." ~ Homer
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament:
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where the highways never ran;
But let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by –
The men who are good, and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad and I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears –
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon,
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by –
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish – so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

“For this is the message that ye heard from the beginning, that we should love one another. Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.”

~ I John 3:11; 4:7 (KJV)

The Essence of Grace

“Clothe yourselves therefore, as God’s own picked representatives…by putting on behavior marked by tenderhearted pity and mercy, kind feeling…gentle ways, and patience – which is tireless, long-suffering and has the power to endure whatever comes, with good temper.” ~ Colossians 3:8,12

I would like to dedicate this column to my very special sister, Connie, who will be celebrating her birthday on June 9th.

I chose the above verse this week because it describes Connie so well. To me, Connie is the very essence of grace. She is full of “tenderhearted pity and mercy, kind feeling, gentle ways and patience.” She is also “tireless, long-suffering, and has the power to endure whatever comes.” In other words, Connie is “all of the above.”

When our sister Patricia passed away I wrote a poem about our family, listing each sibling by name along with their special quality. In that poem, I described Connie as “the sweetest soul” that ever lived. Even though she quickly dismissed this notion as thought it didn’t apply to her, I still stand by it. Connie is soft-spoken and mild-mannered. She exudes God’s love and peace to such a degree that it is almost tangible – so much so that at times I have not felt deserving to even stand in her presence.

I have often told Connie that I think she is the most spiritual one of us all. However, she did not always walk the straight and narrow. After going through a rebellious period during her youth, Connie found the Lord and now she is a living testimony to what God can do if we will simply invite Him into our life. I remember when I was a teenager I saw a handmade card that Connie had given to our parents. On the front of the card she wrote: “I have returned to the God of my fathers.” And she’s never looked back since.

The Bible says that you can tell a tree by its fruit and it also talks about the fruits of the Spirit being “love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22,23) You don’t have to spend very much time with Connie before you can see that these fruits of the Spirit are clearly evident in her life.

When Connie was younger, she would dress up in a Santa costume every Christmas Eve, complete with cotton eyebrows, moustache and beard. Then she would sneak away from the festivities when none of the younger kids were looking, put on her costume and walk across our front yard shouting “Ho, Ho, Ho! Me-r-r-r-r-r-y Christmas!” in the lowest voice she could muster. We all watched in utter amazement as “Santa” passed by the picture window carrying a sack of goodies. Then one by one we would sit on Santa’s lap and describe all the items on our wish list.


"Santa Connie" with Eileen, Bill & Mary

Another Christmas Eve tradition in the Van Kirk family was putting on original skits. One of the annual favorites was a skit performed by Connie and Joanne where Connie would dress up as a shepherd and lie down on the ground pretending to be fast asleep. Then Joanne would sing the chorus to this song: “Rise up shepherd and follow. Follow, follow.” But Connie (the shepherd) would just keep snoring and didn’t budge. Then Joanne would act like she was agitated while she desperately tried to maintain her composure and continued to sing “Rise up shepherd and follow” through gritted teeth. No matter how many times we saw that skit, it was still funny. (I guess you had to be there.)

Connie is also the one we credit for our parents having one more baby (Bob) after child number eight (Bill), because she reportedly prayed fervently that Mom would have another baby. Then when Bob was old enough to ride in a bike seat, Connie would often take him with her on outings around town, along with another friend who also had a younger sibling.

Eventually Connie got married to her husband, Art, and had three little babies of her own: Naomi (who has a 5-year old daughter, Kelsey Constance), Peggy, and Zachery. Connie was a homemaker and stay-at-home mom until a few years ago when she embarked on a challenging journey to become a registered nurse. Connie achieved her goal with flying colors, and now lends her gentle spirit to patients in hospice care.


Dad & Connie on Connie's Graduation Day

But those of us who had the privilege of growing up with Connie have long benefited from the many gifts and talents that she possesses. We have been blessed by a sister who is full of compassion and understanding and who is always there to lend an ear or an encouraging word. I recall one time when I was going through a difficult struggle and Connie gently admonished me to “cast my care on the Lord.” Although I knew she was right, I must confess that I wanted to strangle her. Yes, sweet souls and truly spiritual people can be downright annoying at times. But seriously, Connie is a gift from God and we are all so thankful to call her our sister and our friend.

This complete version of the Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr seems to sum up Connie’s whole approach to life:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it,
Trusting that you will make all things right, if I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen

Finally, I’d like to share an excerpt from the Hallmark card I sent to Connie for her birthday:

“I wish you . . . beauty to enrapture your soul
And goodness to comfort your spirit.
And I wish you harmony with all creation
So that wherever you go, you will be at home in the world
I wish you these things not only because it is your birthday
But because you are my sister
And you are worthy of every good thing my heart can hope for you.”

You are loved.


"The Sweetest Soul" - Connie in 2004

It Took a Village (Part II)

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”

~ Proverbs 3:5,6 (RSV)

“I have held many things in my hands, and have lost them all; but
whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess.”

~ Martin Luther

. . . . Continued from last week

Keen’s first step in trying to sell the trash business was to call our local competitor, whose enthusiastic reaction gave us ample reasons to feel optimistic. However, after we turned over all our financial records at their initial meeting, we never heard from him again – even though Keen tried unsuccessfully to reach him several times a week. After six weeks passed without any word, my brother Bill convinced us to inquire elsewhere. “Eileen, that’s not even courteous, much less good business for him not to return your calls,” Bill exclaimed.

The next day Keen made a call to Waste Management of Topeka and by 5:00 that evening they had returned his call. The salesman explained that Waste Management was in the “acquisition mode” and therefore they were very interested in purchasing our business. Within three months the transaction was complete and Keen was enrolled as a freshman at Kansas State University.

After news about the sale of the business and Keen’s career change was announced, he received a lot of encouragement from friends and family, including the following letter to the editor which Alma citizen Lyn Posey submitted to the local paper:

“I would like to say I appreciate, along with lots of others, everything you have done for this community and want to wish y’all the best of luck in your new endeavors. I’m sure you will succeed with the greatest honors as you have done at everything you have ever tried. You have made a difference and an impression on so many lives.” (The Signal-Enterprise, December 31, 1998)

The largest hurdle to overcome involved that all-important area of finances. You know, that pesky little detail that allows you to keep the lights on and put food on the table? Basically, when it came to the money side of our new adventure, Keen and I made a conscious decision to close our eyes, hold hands and take one gigantic leap of faith into the abyss, because we knew that was the only way Keen was ever going to get off the treadmill of the trash business and be free to pursue his degree. As they say: “You can’t steal second base with your foot firmly planted on first.”

“One beautiful, blue morning, the sailor points his bow toward the horizon, turns sail, and bids farewell to safe, solid ground.”
~ Hallmark card Keen received

So we came up with a bottom-line figure for the sale of our business and, much to our surprise, Waste Management’s offer was right in the ballpark. Then my father surprised us by offering to cover Keen’s tuition expenses at Kansas State! We were on our way.

From there we combined all of our resources including the proceeds from the sale of the business and money leftover from the settlement we received after winning the Supreme Court case. Then we paid Uncle Sam his share and spent another chunk paying off our house in Alma and Manhattan.

"Go, sell the oil and pay your debts, and you and your sons can live on the rest." ~ II Kings 4:7 (RSV)

Although we were officially debt-free at that point, the remaining funds would not be enough for the next seven years. But we had faith that God would see us through, and we still had some additional assets to sell, including our car wash and restaurant. Yes, we’ve pulled out all the stops and cashed in all our chips in this quest (including our retirement accounts), but as Keen once said, “You don’t reach the end of the war with bullets leftover.” Now I’m fairly confident that both our tax accountant and financial advisor think we’re nuts, (along with several other people, I’m sure), and still others are scratching their heads about why I haven’t gone to work to help out. But I do help out, by holding down the fort and keeping things running smoothly at home. And it’s been worth every dollar spent to see Keen’s dream become a reality, while at the same time pursuing my own dream of writing a book about our story.

I remember when we first embarked on this journey I received a letter of encouragement from my good friend, Debbie Varney. (She and her husband Greg are the pastors of Light of the World Christian Center in Topeka.) Debbie reminded me that if God provided “manna from heaven” and “water from the flinty rock” for the Israelites while they wandered for forty years in the desert, then He could and would provide for us. And He has.

“Forty years you sustained them in the wilderness; they lacked nothing; their clothes did not wear out and their feet did not swell.” ~ Nehemiah 9:21 (Amp)

One thing we have learned from this experience is that not all of God’s angels have wings. Keen’s parents, Jim and Jean Umbehr, have been two of those angels. Since the time Keen dropped out of college right after high school, my in-laws have encouraged him to go back to school. His Uncle Jerry gave him a memorable pep talk once, too. Just like my dad, Keen’s parents went beyond mere encouragement to offering financial support. We are eternally grateful to them for their generosity in covering the most expensive part of Keen’s education – his law school tuition. Plus they deeded us some pasture land which provided enough rental income to pay all of our personal property taxes each year. Then when Keen didn’t get into law school the first time, his brother Kevin and wife Falethesa graciously gave us $6,000 to cover the expense of applying to multiple law schools. So you see, we have many people to thank for helping us reach the end of this journey, and we will never forget everyone’s kindness towards us.

Recently, Keen sent me the sweetest thank you note, which I would like to share:

“I needed to tell you that I couldn’t have accomplished the attainment of a J.D. without you. Your love for me, your support, your constant encouragement, your sacrifice, your patience made it all possible. My commitment to you is that I will make all the sacrifices worth it all. I will love you and honor you, and provide for you in the manner appropriate for the Queen you are. I love you!

We have now crossed the finish line together! What is next?”

Isn’t that sweet? It’s just one of the many reasons why I am still so in love with my husband after all these years.

In closing, I would like to share two letters of congratulations and encouragement which held special meaning for Keen and me. The first one is from our friend, Scott:

“Congratulations to you BOTH--and to your boys. It's been a long hard struggle for all of you and I'm glad to know that it has turned out well in the end. In a way, what Keen has done is very like this quote: "To will to be that person one truly is, is indeed the opposite of despair." When we embrace that person we are after all the layers of camouflage are stripped away, we experience the opposite of despair and are empowered for the work we were born to do. Keen is a humble, honest and upright man, and with this God-given nature as the guiding force he was able to fight the good fight and finish the race, and now has been awarded the crown of victory. Well done, Keen! You truly are a good and faithful servant of God who did not bury his talent out of fear, but instead invested his time and talent and energy to do those things which are right and good. Your journey has resulted in blessings not only for you and for those you love, but for ALL those who have witnessed your struggle.”

*****************

This final letter is from another friend of ours named Ron Ebberts:

To the Umbehr Family,

So this 14th day of May 05 the Umbehr Family has reached a major milestone. The story of how this day has come to be is one which might be shared with the world, and, if read with care, could alter many lives . . . .

I know at times challenges have been great, there have been some setbacks – all seem to have offered a deeper challenge and afforded clearer direction for dedication. For people and families of lesser character, Mr. Umbehr, there would not be this day of accomplishment. Now the privilege of greater service commences today. I expect you, Keen Umbehr, to run this state or challenge the Congress of the U.S. to wake up.

May you all be richly blessed as people who know you are blessed.”

“I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”
~ Philippians 1:3 (NKJV)


Part of "The Village": Keen's parents, Jim & Jean Umbehr;
Keen, Eileen and Eileen's father, Joe Van Kirk


Keen & Eileen at Keen's law school graduation May 14, 2005

It Took a Village (Part I)

“Not I, but the grace of God that was with me.”
~ I Corinthians 15:10


This past week has been full of excitement, but I must admit that I am very happy to be on this side of Keen’s graduation. I’m not one for a lot of pomp and circumstance, although I realize that it was certainly in order! However, I much prefer the “ordinariness” of everyday life.

A few days after graduation, Keen and I celebrated our 27th anniversary a little early by spending the night at our favorite hideaway, The Cottage House in historic Council Grove, Kansas. If you ever need a place to slow down and forget your worries or you just want to renew the love you share with your lifelong sweetheart, The Cottage House is the place to go.* In fact, the town of Council Grove as a whole is just delightful. We enjoyed dinner at the Hays House on Thursday evening, followed by a leisurely walk around town. On Friday morning I had a nice visit with my dear friend, Rebecca Miller. You may recall that I wrote a column about her titled, “The Picture of Contentment.” She is such an inspiration. She entertained me by playing a couple of songs on the violin (the same one her parents bought for her for $5.00 when she was a young girl), and she gave us some fresh-baked cookies.


Rebecca Miller with her violin

On Friday afternoon we ate at The Trail’s End Bakery and Café. The gentleman who served us was local attorney Kenneth McClintock who, along with his wife, started the non-profit organization that raised funds to renovate the historic building. Kenneth is known as the town historian, so we were treated to several interesting history lessons along with our delicious meal. (I highly recommend the Reuben sandwich made with homemade rye bread!)

From Council Grove we drove to Hayes, Kansas to spend Friday night. On Saturday we surprised our old friends, Hal & Jane Rogers, by attending the graduation party for their daughter, Angela. Several years ago, the Rogers family lived and worked on a ranch owned by Simon McGee, which is located along Highway 99 between Alta Vista and Alma.

Keen and I thoroughly enjoyed our mini-vacation before Keen had to buckle down to eight weeks of study in preparation for the bar exam in late July.

The only downside to our busy weekend is that I’m running way behind schedule, which is unfortunate because I want to devote this column to thanking everyone who encouraged and supported us in various ways before, during, and after the time Keen pursued his college education and law degree. I’ll most likely turn this into a two-part column.

Keen would be the first person to acknowledge that it took a village to help him accomplish his goal of earning a law degree. However, those of us whom he so graciously credits agree that he is the one who deserves the recognition for the hard work and determination he exhibited over the past six years.

The story begins in 1981 when a man by the name of Robert Fowks became the first person to suggest that Keen should consider the profession of law. Mr. Fowks was a longtime professor at Washburn Law School who served as an arbitrator in the first dispute Keen had with the Wabaunsee County Commissioners (over his use of the county landfill). After the arbitration panel ruled (2-1) in Keen’s favor, Professor Fowks earnestly offered the following words of advice to Keen:

“Listen, I’ve taught law for twenty-five years,” he began. “I’ve seen them come and I’ve seen them go, and I know how to pick them. Based on your performance today, you’ve got what it takes. I’m telling you – you should go to law school.”

Keen pondered that dream in his heart off and on for the next twenty years. Then my father, Joe Van Kirk, began telling us that we should check into what it would take for Keen to return to college for his degree. However, since Keen was working such long hours on the trash truck and had to support a family, we just couldn’t imagine how it would ever work out. So we never really pursued it (much to my father’s chagrin).

“Where there is no counsel, the people fall; but in the multitude of counselors there is safety.” ~ Proverbs 11:14 (NKJV)

Then in the summer of 1998, Keen became the recipient of The Freedom Forum’s Free Spirit Award (www.freedomforum.org) and $10,000.00. While attending the awards ceremony in San Francisco, we had the privilege of meeting former Mercury astronaut Alan B. Shepard, Jr., who has the distinction of being the first American in space, and his wife, Louise. In addition to being a member of the Board of Trustees for The Freedom Forum, he was also on the Board of one of the top waste management companies in the country, Allied Waste. Mr. Shepard asked Keen if he would ever consider selling his business. Although we had just purchased a brand new trash truck six months earlier and had every intention of being in the trash business for the long haul (pardon the pun), the idea of selling out was definitely intriguing.

After returning home, Keen and I filled out an enormous amount of paperwork from Allied Waste. Unfortunately, the company decided that our trash truck was underutilized, and therefore they would not be interested in purchasing our company, Solid Waste Systems.

Keen’s hopes were dashed. Seemingly, his dreams of making a living “using his mind instead of his back” were dead in the water and he had no choice but to return to the day-to-day business of running the trash company.

In August 1998, Keen was a guest on Jim Cates’ radio talk show in Topeka, Kansas. I have a tape from the show, and recorded the following conversation. After talking about the Supreme Court case and taking a few calls from listeners, they were just about ready to close the show when Mr. Cates asked Keen this question:

“Any desire to pick up a few college credits in hopes of practicing law some day?”
“Well, I always joke about that,” Keen answered. “Several people have asked me why
I don’t become a lawyer. Of course, I’m a trashman, and I always tell them that I’d love to become a lawyer but I just couldn’t afford the cut in pay. I say that in jest, of course. I have a lot of respect for lawyers and all the schooling they have to go through – the college, the law school and the tremendous sacrifices they have to make. I’m not sure I’m there yet, to make that decision, but it is a dream. It would be something I’d really like to do if the situation presented itself.”
“Well, you’re young enough, you could certainly do that,” Mr. Cates said.

“Yes I could, I could,” Keen replied. “It’s within the realm [of possibility]... and what a life that would be.”

The very next month, my father, Joe Van Kirk, decided to come for a visit from his home in Florida. During his stay, he observed Keen talking on the phone to several individuals who had called to discuss some legal quandary or personal dilemma they were facing. These calls occupied several hours of Keen’s free time, which left very little time to visit with my father. Finally, my dad couldn’t remain quiet any longer, and he gave Keen the infamous “kitchen speech of 1998.” Dad emphatically stated: “Judas Priest, Keen! If you would have spent half as much time pursuing your college education as you spend on the phone trying to help people, you could have earned your degree by now! Then you’d be in a position to offer some real help!”

Well, that conversation resulted in what Oprah Winfrey refers to as “a light bulb moment.” A major light bulb moment. Yes, my dad’s comments inspired Keen to reconsider the possibility of selling the business and ignited his desire to pursue every avenue in pursuit of a college education and law degree.

“Listen to advice and accept instruction, that you may gain wisdom for the future. Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will be established.”
~ Proverbs 19:20-21(RSV)

To be continued ....


My Dad, Joe Van Kirk, with Keen

*The Cottage House Hotel is a part of Council Grove, Kansas' rich heritage. First a 3 room cottage next to a blacksmith and then a Boarding House built in the early 1870's by Reverend Joab Spencer. Owned and operated by the Mead/Marks family from 1879-1933. Major additions in 1898 and 1913. The Cottage House was "favorably known as a home for many of the commercial tourists who visited the city." After use as apartments during World War II, the hotel became the Stage Coach Motertel from 1959-1982. After restoration and renovation work in 1982-84 and 1988-89, the hotel beckons travelers once again. (Information courtesy of The Cottage House's original stationery.)

The Cottage House is located at 25 North Neosho, Council Grove, Kansas 66846 Telephone: (620)767-6828

A Dream Realized

“Learn to do right; seek justice, relieve the oppressed and correct the oppressor; defend the fatherless, plead for the widow.”
~ Isaiah 1:17 (Amp)

“To live fully, we must have dreams.”
~ Tom Parker, columnist, Blue Rapids, Kansas

Today is Saturday, May 14th, 2005; a day Keen has dreamt about for more than twenty years and worked towards for the last six and a half years.

Today is Keen’s graduation day.

The fog is thick outside my window, symbolizing how little any of us can claim to know about our future. The Bible tells us not to say, “I will go to this city and start a business and make a profit," but instead to say: “If the Lord wills, I will go to this city and set up a business and make a profit.” Therefore, Keen can say, if the Lord wills, then he will pass the bar exam on his first attempt, and if the Lord wills he will set up a private law practice in Topeka. Beyond that, we really can’t say.

But as Keen’s wife, I can say that I am so very proud of him and so very happy for him. I have watched him get up at 2:00 in the morning on bitter cold winter nights to warm up his trash truck. I have watched him don layers and layers of clothing in an attempt to protect himself from the elements as he hung off the back end of the trash truck, jumping up and down and running back and forth from the curb hauling heavy bags or cans of trash. I saw him repeat this process for nearly eighteen years, relying on God to help him through every mechanical breakdown and physical difficulty. Then I watched him dig so deep into his limited reservoir to somehow find the strength to wrestle with his four boys on the floor at night. I watched him find time – make time – to be a very present father to them. He took them swimming and camping and fishing. One time, while we were all camping at Council Grove, he took Jared and Josh canoeing. Keener was a baby, so he and I stayed back at the campsite. After quite a bit of time had passed, I began to worry. Then I saw Keen and my two young sons, ages six and four, trekking towards the campsite in their cut off jeans and t-shirts. The winds had picked up while they were out on the water and they ended up across the lake on the opposite shore, forcing them to hike back. Keen told the boys it was “Daddy’s Saturday Adventure.”

I have also witnessed the times when Keen was so weary and overwhelmed that he didn’t think he could make it one more day. This entry in my journal from 1994 depicts one of those times:

May 30, 1994 (12:30 a.m.)

I forgot to write about what happened last Monday, May 23rd. Keen just broke down. The water pump in the trash truck went out last Friday. The part had to be flown in and the repair could not be made until Monday. This meant that Keen could not run his Sunday night route, which put a lot of stress on him. He had to hope the part would come in on time and that the mechanics could fix it right away. Then he had to head out on his route and get everyone picked up. We had several calls about trash overflowing. It’s amazing – people must set their clocks by him because if he’s even a little late then they are on the phone wondering where he is.

On Monday morning Keen was at the kitchen table with his coffee and I left to take Kirk to Janie’s house [his babysitter], so that I could drive him to Topeka to pick up his truck. When I got back, I looked at him and he was just frozen and numb – like a zombie. Then his lips pursed in such a sad, sad way – almost like a small child’s pout. Then he began to cry and cry; the tears streamed down his face. I just reached out to hold him and cried with him. It was so sad.

I wrote down what he said. “I just don’t want another fight, another battle, another long day and that’s all I’ve got in front of me. I just can’t pick it up anymore. It’s just too heavy.” Then he cried some more. I held him and comforted him and cried with him. It broke my heart to see this God-fearing, hard working, loving father and husband so broken – so overwhelmed by his responsibilities. But I believe God will promote him one day. In fact just the night before he told [his good friend] Quentin, “I’ve never graduated from anything in my life, Quentin, and that’s always made me sad.” He believes God that he will graduate from something one day.

********************

Lastly, I have watched Keen struggle to make his dream a reality. For the past six years, he has worked diligently on his studies, endeavoring to do everything within his power to achieve his goals. College was not a nine-to-five proposition. Not unlike the trash business, school took nearly everything he had from sunup to sundown – and then some. Keen used to pray that one day God would allow him to make a living using his mind, instead of his back. Today, when Keen receives his law degree, that prayer will be answered.

In December 2001, after taking classes year around in an effort to complete a four-year degree in political science in three years, Keen was dealt a disappointing setback. One week after graduating from Kansas State, Keen learned that he had not been accepted into Washburn University School of Law. He was understandably devastated by the unexpected turn of events; but once again, he picked himself up by his bootstraps and set out to prepare himself to retake the LSAT test. He improved his score, reapplied, and was overjoyed to learn that he had been admitted to Washburn for the fall semester.

During the summer of his senior year at Kansas State, Keen was filling out applications for law school when he decided to sit down and attempt to capture his feelings about exactly why he wanted to become a lawyer. I’d like to close by sharing the result of that exercise:

Why I Want to Become a Lawyer
By Keen A. Umbehr

July 13, 2001

I want to fight injustice. Not from afar, but up close. I want to get in the ring, where the fight is actually taking place. I can't rest until I'm involved in a controversy; a controversy that affects peoples’ lives.

I have to be where the heat is. I have to be where battles, lives and reputations are won and lost. I must be a part of the process where history is made. I must be a part of the history that shapes the future.

I am my brother's keeper. I am sure that I am morally obligated and chosen to fight for those who have no limbs, to run for those who have no feet, to die for those who haven't lived yet.

But only in the chambers of justice can injustice be fought and then, only by the chosen few. Who among us will stand and fight? Who will sacrifice his life for the accused? Who wants to even the score?

Me.

Why will I go? For money? No. Money never made a dying man less afraid seeing his end. Then for fame? Never. All the fame in the world will one day fade so that few will even remember your name or what you did.

No, I must become a lawyer for honor; to complete a life's unquenchable thirst. To test my courage when faced with certain defeat; to absorb it, transform it and cast it back with such fury and force that it shocks the conscience of arrogant barristers.

I must do the very thing that shortens my life. For what is a life good for if not to be sacrificed for a cause?

The stress, the strain, the tremendous expense of the soul is what I acknowledge. I must be a lawyer so I can die satisfied, a man who used his life for noble causes.

A poet must express himself in poems, an artist on canvas, a soldier on the battlefield, and I, in a court of law. The hardships I will endure; the chaos and strain I will bear the burden of, but just let me in. Let me fight for you. Choose me to go in your place.


Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying: “Whom shall I send, And who will go for Us?” Then I said, "Here am I! Send me."
~ Isaiah 6:8 (NKJV)



Before


After

Good Grief

“Love . . . bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.” ~ I Corinthians 13:7,8a (NKJV)

I hardly know where to begin. Tears fill my eyes as I sit down to share some remembrances from the very special weekend my sisters and I spent on Whidbey Island while attending the Celebration of Life ceremony for our sister, Patricia.

From the moment we landed in Seattle, we were treated like royalty by Nikki and Patricia’s friends and family. Nikki’s brother John, and two friends, Nola and Laura, picked us up at the airport. This alone was no small task, as it took three hours in rush-hour traffic (and a ride on the ferry) to make it back to the island.

Nikki made arrangements for us to stay in a wonderful little bungalow right on the beach with a breathtaking view of the mountains. A bald eagle perched on the end of the dock greeted Peggy & Connie, who arrived first. Nikki & Laura also placed a beautiful bouquet of flowers in our room, along with some snacks and beverages.

That evening, about 40-50 people gathered at a palatial lodge where another friend, Terry, had prepared an authentic Italian meal with all the trimmings. Terry generously donated the use of the lodge, which she had bid on earlier at a fund-raising auction. (She had intended to use it for her 50th birthday celebration.)

As I walked through the door of the lodge, I was overwhelmed by the love I felt in the room. Two of the very first people to greet us were Shawn and her two-year-old daughter, Lucy, who shared a home with Nikki & Patricia. I felt an immediate bond with both of them since I recalled hearing many “Lucy stories” from Patricia. Now it was Shawn’s turn to share “Patricia stories” with us. Shawn said that when Patricia came home Lucy would scream “PISHA!” and run full force into her arms for a big hug. When Shawn tried to explain that Pisha started a new life, Lucy decided they should sing Happy Birthday to Pisha.

Next I was introduced to Bev & Carolyn, who were the two friends that were swimming with Patricia and carried her to the beach after something went terribly wrong. We hugged and cried and talked as though we had known each other our entire lives. I met so many beautiful people that night and throughout the weekend, and I will cherish each and every one of them forever in my heart.

The Celebration of Life service was held the next day at Freeland Hall. As our sister Peggy wrote to our siblings who were unable to attend: “It is difficult to convey to you in words the intensity of the experience and the love and the respect shown for Patricia. It was all quite remarkable.”

The weather that day was absolutely perfect. Nikki even saw a bald eagle circling right above the hall when she arrived to set everything up. There were decorations and bouquets of flowers everywhere, and the walls and tables were filled with pictures of Patricia, along with pictures taken by Patricia. There were also balloons and an incredible array of desserts in honor of Patricia, who loved both.

Whenever I expressed my gratitude to one of the many people working on the preparations, their standard reply was: “Nikki organized everything – we’re just doing what she tells us to do.” I still don’t know how Nikki planned such an elaborate tribute to Patricia in the midst of her own grief, but I’m sure glad she did.

Approximately 200 people attended the memorial service, which began with two of Patricia’s friends, Diana & Sylvia, singing a beautiful song titled, “White Light,” which Diana wrote for Patricia when she was battling breast cancer. The first verse of the song is: “Angels are smiling (3x) - Blessing this room, filling this room, with white light.”

What followed was a series of tributes and accolades from several of Patricia’s friends, family and colleagues. In between the times of sharing we watched two slide shows. One was a collection of Patricia’s nature photographs shown to a magical song titled “Breaths,” by Sweet Honey in the Rock. The other was a DVD Diana created for Patricia, which included some gripping video footage of Patricia playing on the beach and swimming in the ocean just fifteen minutes before she was stricken. At the very end there was a short clip of Patricia laughing while she playfully dodged the camera like a child. It was both heart warming and heart wrenching.

A friend of Patricia's named Linda Ferreira, stood up and read the following poem, (author unknown).

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die.

Next, Linda read her own personal rendition of the above poem, which she wrote for Patricia. With her permission, I’d like to share the following excerpt with you:

I’m here with you in Lucy’s park – just look, you’ll see me swing
Gently in the morning breeze, the gift that sunrise brings
Look for me at sunset, I’ll remind you to have hope
These painful days will pass; you’ll see, together you will cope.

I’m sitting in the sunshine; I’m meditating in the rain
Close your eyes and pray my friends, it will help you ease your pain
At night time look toward heaven – see star light shine your way
I’m sitting with my mother – believe me, we’re okay.

Keep me in your hearts, my loves, we’ll hug again some day
Find some peace in knowing, that because of you, and your love for me
I will not fade away, I will not fade away.

At the end of the service, Diana and Sylvia led the group in a song titled, “Circle of Friends.” Everyone in the room reached across the isles and joined hands together as we sang and swayed slowly to the music:

Would you join my circle, my circle of friends?
It’s a long and winding chain that seems to have no end
Come with me and take my hand, we’ll reach around the world
Would you join my circle, my circle of friends?

The following day my sisters and I had breakfast with Nikki, Roxy and Jan (two friends who also attended the funeral service in Minnesota). We cried and laughed as we exchanged more Patricia stories. Then Roxy shared something that I will never forget. She said that Patricia left a message on their answering machine the Saturday before she left for Mexico saying that she really wanted to see Roxy and Laura before her trip. After Roxy learned of Patricia’s passing, she deeply regretted not being able to connect with her as they had hoped. Then she looked at each of us and said that she could see Patricia in our faces and hear her in our laughs, and because of that, she felt like she did get to see Patricia one more time after all.

I know this is a little long, but I just can’t close without sharing the most memorable event of all. The evening before we left, the four Van Kirk sisters gathered privately with Nikki, Bev and Carolyn, so they could share additional information about Patricia’s last day on earth and answer any questions we might have. Afterwards, we all held hands in a circle on the beach and, with tears streaming down our faces, we sang the chorus from “On Eagle’s Wings” by Michael Joncas:

And He will raise you up on eagle’s wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His hand.

Just then, as if on a heavenly cue, a giant bald eagle flew across the water right in front of us and swooped down to retrieve some food that the resort owner had placed on the shoreline. We all watched in utter amazement as we inhaled the wonder of it all.

Looking back on our weekend spent remembering Patricia with the members of her extended family, the following quote seems especially apropos: “Many people will walk in and out of your life; but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.” Yes, we lost our sister, and because of that, we will never be the same. But now I can honestly say that we have gained many, many true friends who indeed left their “footprints on our hearts.”

My sister Mary summed it up best with something she said when Laura dropped us off at the airport. “Please tell everyone for us," she said, "We came here out of love for Patricia, but we’re leaving with love for you.”

“And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” ~ I Corinthians 13:13 (NKJV)


Circle of Friends: Eileen, Nikki, Mary, Roxy, Connie, Jan & Peggy

Together Again

“If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.” ~ I Corinthians 15:19

You had love for your family
Love for all people
Love for the Father, and Son
Your heart will be heard
In your unspoken words
Through generations to come
There’s so much that I don’t understand
But I know . . .
You’re dancing with the angels
Walking in new life
You’re dancing with the angels

Dancing with the Angels ~ recorded by Monk & Neagle

I realize that most of you who read this column did not know my sister, Patricia. But I also realize that most, if not all of you, have probably lost someone you loved. For this reason, I hope there is no need for me to apologize for writing about my sister’s life and death one more time in my Reflections column.

When I expressed this concern to a friend of mine, she encouraged me with these words:

Eileen....It is fortunate for us that you are gifted at grieving ~ in prose. So many of the things you have written or copied from songs, scripture and poetry have touched me deeply. Since my mother died in December, I am reminded of her in so many little ways.....and of course, in the big ones. Reading your words about your sister's early passing from this earthly place, and from your family, simply allows me to feel what I need to, and also to be thankful, like you, that I had the privilege of knowing this wonderful woman, of being alive, of loving and losing, and for all the pieces that continue to fall into place along the journey....Love, Kat

**********
My manuscript editor, Barbara Lerma, said that it sounded like Patricia had the “ideal life and the ideal death.” To be vacationing in Mexico, splashing in the water, and feeling like a kid again, right up to your last moment, is a pretty good way to leave this world. Not to mention that she didn’t have to suffer. And the day before she had taken that picture of a sunset which she titled, “What I came for.” Yes, there is some comfort in the knowledge that Patricia was doing what she loved, with the people she loved, right up until the last second of her life. Of course the pain of losing her and the loss felt by those left behind, is still ever-present.

This Saturday, April 23rd, marks one month since our Patricia passed away. It is also the day that Patricia’s partner, Nikki, will be hosting a Celebration of Life service in Patricia’s honor. The ceremony will be held on Whidbey Island in Freeland, Washington, where Patricia and Nikki shared a home. Friends and family from as far away as Alaska, Arizona, Tennessee, Minnesota, Nevada and Iowa will be there.

I had always wanted to visit Patricia and see the home she loved so much on the island where she enjoyed the beauty of nature. The last pictures she shared with the family (via email) were some amazing photos of bald eagles which she took during a walk on the island. You see, Patricia was someone who not only stopped to smell the roses; she took pictures of them, too.


Patricia's Eagle in Flight taken on Whidbey Island

It’s kind of sad that I am finally making that trip after she’s gone, yet I feel the need to connect with Patricia’s world; to see where she lived, walk where she walked, and meet the members of her extended family who loved her so much. I sincerely hope that it will help with the healing and perhaps bring some closure – if there is such a thing.

The first poem I‘d like to share this week is one that my sister Mary came across and was printed in the program for Patricia’s funeral.

You Never Said Goodbye
Author Unknown

You never said I’m leaving
You never said goodbye
You were gone before we knew it
And only God knows why

A million times we needed you
A million times we cried
If love alone could have saved you
You never would have died.

In life we loved you dearly
In death we love you still
In our hearts you hold a special place
That no one could ever fill.

It breaks our hearts to lose you
But you didn’t go alone
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home.

After Patricia passed away, I went back and read the “Reflections” column I had written for her 53rd birthday in 2003. After talking about our family and what a diversified group we are, I finished the article with the following words:

“The bottom line is love. When my mom was on her death bed, she was repeating the word, ‘love, love, love.’ My sister Mary asked, ‘Do you want everyone to know that you love them, Mom? Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you want me to tell everyone that you love them?’ Her eyes widened and she nodded her head up and down. Then she whispered softly, ‘Always stay together….all nine.’”

I’ve been feeling so sad about losing Patricia and having to adjust to being a family of eight instead of nine. How can we stay together when one of us is gone? Then my sister Connie reminded me that we’re still nine; it’s just that one of us has gone on ahead. One day we will all be reunited again, but for now, those of us who remain will try to honor Patricia’s memory by living our life to the fullest, the way she did, and the way she would want us to. In addition, we can rejoice that our precious mother and sister are together again – dancing with the angels on those streets of gold.

This next poem was written on the way to Patricia’s funeral Mass in Minnesota; I later read it as part of the eulogy.

Still a Family
By Eileen Umbehr

They say that there’s strength in numbers
And I know for a fact that is true
But now our numbers are down by one
And we’re wondering how we’ll pull through

First came our sister Peggy
The matriarch of the clan
Followed by Patricia
Everyone’s biggest fan

Then along came Connie
The sweetest soul there ever was
And then there was Joanne
Who filled our home with song and love

When Joseph, the firstborn son arrived
Buttons burst left and right
Then Mary came shortly thereafter
To be our family’s shining light

And although that sounds like quite a crew
Our parents weren’t done yet
Along came number seven, Eileen
The family’s poet laureate

Bill was the next little brother
Giving Joe some company
Oh, how we laughed when we heard him sing
“Oh, my baby.”

Bob came along five years after Bill
Adding one more boy
He was and always will be
Our family’s pride and joy

Although today we gather to grieve the loss
Of our sister, Patricia, so dear
We know if she could she would tell us
To carry on and not to fear

So even though we’ll never be the same
And we’ll miss her terribly
The important thing to remember is
We’re still a family

**********
Finally, I’d like to share a poem with a message that I think Patricia would echo:

Feel Joy
By Liz Hoffmeister

If you can,
Feel joy for me.
Feel joy.
I’ve gone where I most long to be.
Feel joy.
In every babe’s face that you see
From here on out,
See me and thee.
And if you can,
Oh, if you can,
Feel joy with me.

********

Give the kids a kiss for me
And say hello to the family
Tell ‘em all my future’s lookin’ bright
Well, I miss ‘em, but I’m doin’ all right
I said I miss ‘em, but I’m doin all right.

I’m All Right ~ recorded by Jo Dee Messina

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” ~ Romans 8:18


Mother and Daughter: Together Again

Patricia's Story

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, He rescues those who are
crushed in spirit.” ~ Psalm 34:18 (NLT)

Nine Minus One
By Eileen Umbehr

Nine minus one
I don’t like that equation
Nine minus one isn’t right
We’re a family
And families always stay together
“Patricia’s lost,” Keen said.
I wanted to physically push the words back -
Back through the air to where they came from.
“We lost our Patricia today,” Nikki said.
NO!
“Why did you tell me that, Daddy?” Caitlyn asked.
Kyle cried. Right before his birthday.
We all cried.
We cried together.
And now we cry again
As a family of eight
Instead of nine
Five girls and three boys just isn’t right
Our circle is lopsided now
Without our Patricia
Nine minus one
Nine minus one

Will we ever get used to this?

I’d like to begin by thanking everyone who sent cards, letters, emails and even flowers – all expressions of sympathy to me and my family after the unexpected death of my sister, Patricia. Every word, thought and prayer has touched my heart. Thank you so much for letting me know that you cared.

“. . . weep with those who weep.” ~Romans 12:15b (NKJV)

This note from my dear friend, Scott, was very special to me:

“Accept the heartache you feel, and cry the tears that come naturally. It is the balm of these tears that begins to heal the broken heart. As long as there is still a twinge of memory in your heart, Patricia will live on. As long as her life's story is told in your column, she will live in the hearts and minds of countless people. When I think of the loved ones I've lost, I remember this quote: "Some people think we're made of flesh and blood and bone. Scientists say we're made of atoms. But I think we are made of stories. When we die, that's what people remember, the stories of our lives and the stories that we told." --Ruth Stratton
Hang in there, my friend. Cry for Patricia, and never, ever stop telling her story.”

This week I’d like to share some of “Patricia’s story” with you, as told through the words of those who knew her best and loved her most.

From Connie, Patricia’s sister:

“Her quick wit made her such fun to be around. Her laugh was contagious . . . I think I’ll be able to hear her laugh, see her laughing, always ….”

From Amy, Patricia’s niece:

She hated to be in front of the camera. She wanted to be behind it. She wanted to be snapping pictures of Connor's funny faces. She wanted to catch me with my hand on the back of my swim-suit, after a nose dive onto the sand. She wanted to say "Get closer together! Zach! Lean in!" – as the cousins laughed, and tried to hold photogenic smiles. She wanted to create collages, calendars, greeting cards – each bearing a bit of her heart – a bit of her spirit, joy and passion in each photograph. She wanted to be outside her home, taking the most fantastic pictures of birds, of green fields, of the people she lived for. The people she lived for. . . .
It makes my head reel and hurt and my fingers go numb, grabbing tissue after tissue after tissue to soak up tears, to soak up memories, to soak up the muffled sound of my mother saying "...Patricia..." into my dad's shoulder.

From Nikki, Patricia’s partner, in a letter to friends and family:

“We are all crying a lot and laughing a lot and sitting quietly a lot. (It is Semanta Santa weekend, the biggest holiday in Mexico, so we have to wait until Monday to do paperwork.) More friends and family have arrived and are continuing to arrive and I am grateful for that. Our Patricia was so loved! And the outpouring of love has been incredible.

The reality of the permanence has not scratched the surface. What everyone knows, without a doubt is that Patricia died while laughing, without pain, and surrounded by people who loved her and the Sea. As Diana said, Patricia’s hand is on all our hearts, helping us. We are so sad and so blessed.”

From Roxy, a dear friend of Nikki & Patricia:

Patricia would always be so choosy when she took a picture. She always had to take it from just the right angle so it looked its best. I think she did the same with all of us. She saw us with all our flaws and quirks, strengths and weaknesses, then chose to look at us at just the right angle. Seeing us as special and talented, wonderful and witty in a way no one else could.

From Joanne, Patricia’s sister:

Patricia, Patty, Patty Paprika
My sister and friend
As children and women
Memories, laughter, crocodile tears
Too few years
To know and love you
And though I know you’re
“Dancing with the Angels”
How my heart will miss you
My sister, my friend
Joanne, Janny, Jan

From Patricia’s niece, Melissa (excerpt of poem by Melissa & her fiancé, Mark)

She’ll surely be missed, today and every day
But we find comfort knowing, she’s just a thought away
And that’s thanks to her pictures, smile, and wonderful memories, too
I know she’ll keep snapping photos from her heavenly view
I understand one of her last pictures, was of the sunset and its beautiful ray
Fitting, I guess, because it will come up again to start a new day.

All of these memories were printed in the program for Patricia’s funeral mass in Minnesota on April 2nd. Our sister Peggy, who was only 18 months older than Patricia, shared several memories under the following subheadings: “The Artist” (Patricia drew balloons on the wall with her name written in the middle of them, but denied any involvement), “The Gardner” (Peggy & Patricia picked a “bouquet” of poison ivy for our mother), “The Traveler” (she once “escaped” from the house to the playground, and she loved to travel as an adult), “Team Player” (they would be in charge of babysitting their seven siblings and would consult about who should get a checkmark by their names), “Musician” (she loved to play the viola as a child and the recorder as an adult), “The Walker” (they would walk to Our Lady of Grace School in Edina, Minnesota, and Patricia continued to enjoy hiking), “The Navigator” (Patricia learned to read a map at an early age so she could sit by our Dad on long trips, instead of being crammed in the back of the station wagon with the rest of us), and lastly, “The Listener.”

Peggy concluded: “Patricia was more than her talents and abilities. She had a heart and soul alive with love. May she continue to shine that light of love upon us all.”
From Joe, Patricia’s brother:

We will miss her beyond what words can say. However, I believe her spirit is now with us all, and we will never truly be without her. I think Josh Groban’s song, You Raise Me Up,” says it very well: “I am strong when I am on your shoulders; “You raise me up to more than I can be.” Patricia has raised us up, all of us.

I hope and pray that Patricia will experience in eternal life what she has shared with us in her earthly life: God’s great strength, eternal peace, and immense joy.

Peace, Patricia.

“…we know that as long as we live in these bodies we are not at home with the Lord.”

~ II Corinthians 5:6b (NLT)


Our Patricia, 2004

A Premature Passing

"The Lord’s loved ones are precious to him; it grieves him when they die.”
~ Psalm 116:15 (NLT)

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I Will Remember You ~ recorded by Sarah McLachlan

On March 23, 2005, my life changed forever. I was working on book revisions at our house in Manhattan when I heard the doorbell ring. “I’ll ignore it,” I thought. Then I heard knocking on the back door. Perhaps it was our next door neighbor. “Who is it?” I asked. The voice on the other side of the door answered: “It’s Keen.” I wondered what he was doing in Manhattan when I had just talked to him on the phone two hours earlier.

When I opened the door I saw a look on his face that I hope to never see again. Following right behind Keen was our son Kirk and his friend, Sam, wearing the same somber look on their faces. My mind began racing through all the dreaded possibilities as I struggled to imagine what horrible thing happened that they had to tell me face-to-face.

“It’s your sister, Patricia,” Keen said. “She was swimming in the ocean in Mexico….They tried to save her but there was nothing they could do. I’m so sorry.”

The awful news was more than I could bear to hear, comprehend, process or accept. I sobbed. Keen hugged me. I hugged Kirk. After the initial shock wore off, Keen helped me gather up my things so he could drive me home and Kirk and Sam drove the other car back to Alma.

The next couple of days are a blur. The only thing I could focus on was going through photo albums and pulling out pictures of Patricia. Then I scanned them into the computer and called Gordon Schmid from Council Grove to see if he could help me create a DVD. Unfortunately, he wasn’t available. But with the help of God and my son, Kirk, we figured out how to use a basic DVD program that came with my computer. The result was a collection of pictures of Patricia which played to the music of Sarah McLachlan’s song, “I Will Remember You.”

As anyone who has ever lost a loved one knows, the grief is unbearable – whether the death is sudden, like Patricia’s, or the result of a prolonged illness, like my mother’s. Either way, you never really “get over” the void left by their absence. Our family will never be the same.

Patricia and her partner, Nikki, along with several other friends, were vacationing at the Pueblo Bonito Resort in Mazatlan, Mexico, when Patricia was stricken with what we now know was a brain aneurism. She had been complaining of headaches for several weeks, but apparently her doctor didn’t think there was any cause for concern.

Patricia was an avid photographer who especially enjoyed capturing the beauty of nature. The night before she died, Patricia took the most beautiful picture of the sunset over Mazatlan, which she later downloaded to her computer and titled, “What I came for.” That night, she and Nikki and all their friends sat around and talked and laughed for two solid hours. Afterwards, the conversation turned more reflective and several people around the table told Patricia how much she meant to them and what a difference she had made in their life.

Here is Nikki’s explanation of what happened on the following day:

“Caroline, Bev and Patricia were playing in the surf...moments before she slipped into the sea Patricia laughed and said—“Isn´t it amazing how being in the water makes us feel like little children again?” Patricia was full of joy at that moment – bouncing in the waves and laughing with her friends. They laughed and played in the waves for a long time. Bev and Caroline turned away for only seconds and when they turned back Patricia was floating on her back. They thought she was playing--Patricia liked to float. Then a wave turned her over and they realized she wasn’t playing. They carried her to the beach calling for help but there was nothing that could be done. The doctor said Patricia died quickly without suffering of a brain aneurism. It is so hard to believe that someone could be so full of life one moment and gone in the next breath. . . .”

Nikki later told us that several people on the beach gathered around Patricia to pray for her, along with a “woman in white” who had a calming presence and who comforted Patricia’s anxious friends. Then the woman said to Nikki: “You have to let go; she’s gone to be with God now. All you can do is pray.”

Grief is such a painful and difficult emotion. Two days after Patricia died Keen made supper and set the table for four since Kirk’s girlfriend, Loretta, was joining us. When I came to the table, I couldn’t even look at the food, much less eat it. “You’ll have to excuse me,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll be very good company tonight.”

When I went to our bedroom and closed the door, I could hear the conversation and even laughter coming from the kitchen. Then I heard the television playing. It didn’t seem right that I was drowning in grief and they were carrying on as if nothing happened. So I called my sister Connie and we cried together. Connie is an RN who works in hospice care, so she has had a lot of experience with death and dying. “How can they eat? How can they laugh? Don’t they know my sister died? Show some respect!”

“I know, I know. It hurts,” Connie replied in a soft, soothing voice – almost a whisper. “But thank God you can cry, because you need to cry. You need to get it out.”

"If you suppress grief too much it can well redouble." –Moliere

Then Connie played the most beautiful, comforting song for me over the phone. The song is titled, “With Hope.” It was written and recorded by Steven Curtis Chapman.

With Hope

This is not at all
How we thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you

But we can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We’ll see your face again

Never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan
But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free

So we can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope

There's a place … by God's grace
There's a place where we'll see your face again

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope

“Now also we would not have you ignorant, brethren, about those who fall asleep [in death], that you may not grieve [for them], as the rest do who have no hope [beyond the grave]. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will also bring with Him through Jesus those who have fallen asleep [in death].”
~ I Thessalonians 4:13,14



Patricia's Last Sunset

A Day in the Life of a Trashman (Part II)

“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” ~ II Corinthians 12:9 (KJV)

January 21, 1994
Journal Excerpt
(continued from last week)

On Tuesday, Keen and our loyal employee, Jimmy Hinck, began the difficult task of picking up the towns of Harveyville and Eskridge in our small truck. This involved multiple trips back and forth to the landfill in Alma. Afterwards, Keen and Jimmy decided to go to Flint Hills Foods to borrow a hoist so that they could remove the old engine from big truck for repairs. Well, there was a tragic accident. Keen was pulling the engine hoist on a trailer behind his pickup truck and Jimmy was walking alongside of the trailer to keep the hoist steady, when all of a sudden the hoist fell over, pinning Jimmy to the ground and breaking his back!

Jimmy is going to have surgery on Monday. Keen is praying so hard for him. When he called and heard Jimmy’s weak voice, he cried. He feels terrible. He keeps seeing Jimmy’s face and it’s just tearing him up inside. Jimmy has been one of our best employees ever. He is so dependable and enthusiastic. He actually does cartwheels between stops. He’s always talking about how fun his job is and how much he enjoys working for Keen. We are just devastated that this has happened to him.

Thank the Lord that we have worker’s compensation so Jimmy will receive a portion of what he normally gets paid from us and all of his medical expenses will be covered. He also works part time for Flint Hills Foods and they have a disability policy that will pay him $100 a month. It’s not much, but it helps. It’s just so tragic.

So on Tuesday after he got all of Eskridge and Harveyville picked up, he was headed for Alta Vista when he stopped on the road to pick up a customer’s trash. Just then Norma Conrad was driving by, so she pulled over to see if Keen was having trouble. She told him she was sorry about Jimmy and the truck. “Just remember that things are going to get better,” she said. Somehow those words of encouragement really boosted Keen’s spirits. Just the night before in the trash truck, Keen and I both agreed that despite the chaos and panic all around us, we both had this underlying peace that everything was going to be okay. It was a weird sensation – sort of like looking at the waves and the storm and just knowing that somehow you were going to make it through.

“Peace I leave with you; My own peace I now give to you. Not as the world gives, do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid - stop allowing yourselves to be agitated and disturbed; and do not permit yourselves to be fearful and intimidated and cowardly and unsettled.” ~ John 14:27 (Amplified)

We just found out that our new truck is an automatic, so that means I could drive on residential days, [Tuesdays and Wednesdays], and Keen could throw the trash. Since Jimmy is in the hospital, we need a new driver. Plus, this would be another way to save money and make it easier to make our loan payment to the bank. God had that truck all picked out and prepared for us.

That night we returned home around 10:30 to find a note from Josh on our bedroom door. It read, “Mark Shumaker called and he wants you to call him no matter how late it is – even if it’s 11:00. He wants to help you on the trash truck tomorrow. He demanded that you call him so he can know what time to meet you at the shop.”

When I read that note I cried like a baby. It touched my heart so much that we had a friend who was willing to help us in our time of need. When Keen called him back, Mark told him that they so appreciated the way we made them feel welcome in this community. Now he wanted to do something for us. I just felt so touched. We don’t have many friends, but the ones we do have are more precious than gold.

It turned out to be a real gift from God to have Mark help, because if he hadn’t gone, then I was going to drive for Keen. So this way I was able to stay home and work on securing the financing we needed for our truck. I ended up being on the phone all day. Then the sooner we got it approved, the sooner Armor Equipment would put men on it nearly round the clock so it could be ready for us to pick up by Friday.

January 25, 1994

To pick up where I left off – we had applied for a loan at the Alta Vista State Bank and they approved our loan at 8% interest! This is the bank that has loaned us the money we’ve needed for everything we’ve ever done as far as business goes. So the wheels were really turning now.
It was Keen’s idea to ask Armor Equipment to provide two plane tickets and a hotel room and they agreed. Their men worked on it until 2:00 a.m. to get it done and it was ready to roll by 9:30 on Friday. (Grandma May’s birthday)

Keen and I were so excited with the truck – it was a gift from God. Everything was new and it all worked right. I drove it for two hours just to get my feet wet and did pretty well. We talked all the way back from St. Louis and marveled at how God worked everything out for us. Oh, to have a working truck! It’s all so amazing. We are in awe.

“I sought for the Lord...and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. Many evils confront the righteous; but the Lord delivers him out of them all.” ~ Psalms 34:4

Tomorrow will be my first day on the job. Keen said, “The idea of going to work with my wife is so intriguing to me. I can talk to you on the route now, instead of these other guys. I mean, we got married because we love each other. All we’ve ever wanted was just to be together and now we can!” He likes the idea of having coffee with me in the morning while the truck is warming up. He’s really excited. Of course, I’m a little less excited; I guess you could say I’m apprehensive.

When I was driving the truck home from St. Louis he said, “I’m proud to be able to show the world that my wife is multi-talented. She can be a Memphis belle when she wants to be; she’s an accountant, a lawyer, a mother, a housewife and now she’s a truck driver.” He’s so sweet and he makes me feel so loved. He also gives me the confidence to believe that I can do anything.
So even though last week was probably the darkest and bleakest week of our life, the end result was the purchase of this truck that will make our life so much more efficient in the long run. God knew we needed it and He also knew we wouldn’t have purchased it unless our old truck had a total breakdown. Since we seem to barely make it financially as it is, we never would have willingly taken on the added responsibility of a large truck payment. In a way, I guess we were forced into this purchase, but now we’re glad we were.

So I conclude that many times life’s greatest joys are born from life’s greatest agonies. That’s why we should never give up. It’s like Job – he never quit believing in the goodness of God and in the end, God showed Job he was right. God will never, ever fail His children – no matter how bleak things may look at times.

“…be satisfied with your present circumstances and with what you have; for He Himself has said, I will not in any way fail you nor give you up nor leave you without support. I will not, I will not, I will not in any degree leave you helpless, nor forsake you nor let you down, relax My hold on you. Assuredly not!" ~ Hebrews 13:5 (Amplified)


Keen & Eileen with new trash truck
Photo by Refugio Garcia

A Day in the Life of a Trashman

“Now go, write it before them in a table, and note it in a book, that it may be for the time to come for ever and ever . . .”
~ Isaiah 30:8 (KJV)

Last week I wrote about leaving a legacy and the importance of recording your thoughts and feelings for future generations. If you’d like to listen to some short stories recorded by ordinary people, check out www.storycorps.net and click on “Listen.” Story Corps is a project that was developed to inspire people to record each others’ stories in sound. To facilitate this goal, a sound proof booth has been placed in the middle of New York City’s Grand Central Terminal. This gives individuals the opportunity to share a special memory with someone they love. The story is then recorded on CD and archived in the Library of Congress.

Lately I’ve been spending the majority of my time on book revisions, so I thought I would share a section of my personal journals with you for the next two weeks. This will give you a glimpse into “a day in the life of a trashman” – and it will give me the chance to focus on my project.

“And may the Lord make you to increase and excel and overflow in love for one another and for all people, just as we also do for you.” ~ I Thessalonians 3:12

January 21, 1994

“When the wire gets so tight that you can walk on it, that’s when the walkin’s the best.”
~ Garth Brooks

Today is Friday, January 21, 1994, and Keen and I are in St. Louis, Missouri, picking up our new trash truck at Armor Equipment. We flew in but we’ll drive the new truck back. Our salesman, Larry Jackson is explaining how the truck works to Keen. It’s freezing outside so I decided to sit in their company truck and write until they’re done.

This has been an incredibly wild week. I’ve been calling it the week from hell; in actuality, it may prove to be the week from Heaven. It has never looked as dark or bleak as it did this week.
It started last Thursday, January 13, when Keen’s trash truck broke. Danny, Quentin, Dave and Keen worked on it all day Friday. Keen drove to Topeka for parts, but they didn’t have everything he needed. So he had to drive back on Saturday at 8:00 a.m. to pick up the rest of the parts.

On Friday night, Keen called me from work to update me on the situation.
He said, “I’m sad.”
“Oh, are you, honey?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m just deep-down sad.”

So I called Barbara and I told her about it. We visited until Keen came home and then he talked to her. He said, “Yeah, I am sad, Mom. It’s just been so hard for a very long, long time….too long it seems.” So she talked to him about how important it is for him to get those feeling out. It really helped to talk to her.

Then Keen went to bed at 9:00 and he asked me to have the boys come up and sing him a song. It was so sweet to hear them all in there singing “Chantilly Lace” to Dad. Then Keener (age 9) stayed back to talk to his daddy. He told him he felt sad that Dad was never home. So Keen told him he’d wake him up at 4:00 the next morning to go with him to get parts in Topeka. When Keener came out of the room I noticed he was crying and I asked him about it. He told me how sad he was because he never gets to see Daddy. I held him on my lap and I cried right along with him. I said, “I know, Keener. We’re all sad about not seeing Daddy. It is sad.” Little did we know how much worse things would get before they would get better.

Keen worked all day Saturday trying to repair the truck in time for Sunday’s route. I thought to myself, “Keen works trash man hours – from before sunup until after sundown.” He got home around 7:00 Saturday night believing that the job was complete and the problems were solved. When he came home he said, “One day I know God will deliver me from all of this, but for right now He’s giving me the strength to do what I have to do.”

On Sunday morning he left the house at 8:00 a.m. so he could hopefully be home by 3:00 to watch the Chiefs play Houston in the playoffs. Well, he was home by 3:00 all right, but when he walked in the door he announced that he hadn’t even left town yet. His truck barely made it to the landfill and back before it started making a terrific loud noise. Then he worked on it all day until 3:00. He couldn’t go any further with everything being closed on Sunday. He said he went into his office and just broke down.

On Monday morning Keen called home and said, “Well, hon, we don’t have a trash truck.” I was shocked. He told me he was trying to find a loaner. I felt like our whole world had just come crashing down. Suddenly, everything came to a screeching halt. Tuesday was staring us in the face, as was Wednesday and the rest of the week. We found ourselves facing some enormous decisions.

Several attempts to locate a loaner were unsuccessful. One trash truck was available for rent for $500, but it was fourteen hours away. We called every dealer we knew but the only one who had a truck on the lot nearly ready to go was Armor Equipment in St. Louis. They were just finishing up on a 1994 International with a 20-yard Heil compactor. So then we began the long process of obtaining financing. The truck would cost approximately $90,000 dollars. We always knew that a new truck purchase would eventually become necessary, but now it had hit us square in the face. It became quite evident that, after thirteen years, we had gotten all the good we were going to get out of our old truck.

The most frightening aspect of this purchase became the monthly payments. Keen and I knew we were doing the right thing by proceeding forward with the purchase, but neither of us had any idea how we were going to make such a huge payment. We haven’t had a truck payment for the past nine years, and lately we have been struggling to make ends meet. Now how would we come up with $1600 each and every month? It felt as though we were walking into an abyss. We kept marching, but with absolutely no idea how it was going to work out on the financial end. But since it was our only option, we were left with no choice but to proceed by faith; believing that everything would be all right, even though we didn’t have all the answers – or any answers, for that matter.

On Monday night, Keen had to go all the way to Mission Valley School near Eskridge to pick up their overflowing trash, so I told him I’d go with him. Since the trash truck was broken, we had to take the Pak-Rat, which is much smaller and doesn’t have a hydraulic lift to empty commercial dumpsters. It was the coldest day of the year with subzero wind-chill and blowing snow. I didn’t want him to go alone. The world seemed to be falling down around him and I wanted to be by his side to offer my support. I wanted us to go through this trial side by side. So we did.

At the Eskridge Manor I had to climb inside their oversized, 8-yard container to hand the bags to Keen. It was freezing! I felt so sorry for Keen. He said, “You have to learn to work with frozen fingers.” But it felt good to help out and pull together in this trial and tribulation. On our way home, I was especially thankful that I went along as Keen started dozing off and nearly drove right off the road. Still, our trials had only just begun.

To be continued…..



Keen working on trash route
Photo by Refugio Garcia