It's all about the stories...

Shelley and I were in Wake Forest last evening. We decided to stop at the local Chili's and have dinner. We were seated quickly and our waitress came to the table to take our drink order. I noticed a very swirly tattoo script poking under the edge of her t-shirt sleeve and decided I would ask about her tattoo when she brought out our drinks. When she returned and served our drinks I asked about the tattoo, she lifted the sleeve and revealed a very neat tattoo script that said "Bad Girl". She was quick to fold the sleeve back in place and lifted her right sleeve and there was one word and two dates,
1998
Brandon
2003
She spoke very plainly, "This is my memorial tattoo to Brandon".

I love the art of tattoos. The body as a canvas, moving, walking, traveling, always with a piece of art attached. Like all art, there is good and there is bad. I know a good tattoo when I see one and I know a bad tattoo when etched permanently in the skin.
I flip through the tattoo magazines and tattoo art books at Barnes and Noble on a regular basis, just to enjoy the beauty of the art form. I have no tattoos, nor do I plan on ever getting a tattoo. If you have them great, if you want one, get it. I have one caution, pay the money for a good artist and good artwork. Remember, a tattoo could last for thousands of years.

Back to dinner with my wife. Our waitress (Katrina) took our food order and I determined I would ask her about the memorial tattoo when a proper moment arrived. Our food came quickly and we enjoyed our time together. When Katrina brought the check, she lingered just a moment at the table, I asked her to tell me the story of her memorial tattoo. Her words were simple, "This is a memorial to my 15 year old brother who was killed by a CO2 cylinder from a piantball gun. He was cleaning the gun , when the cylinder flew off, struck him in the forehead and he died.
There is a website that talks about it and the other folks who have died or been injured." Katrina then flashed a purple wrist band with the website address clearly printed, "paintballdangers.com". She continued, "When I am in a grocery store or other places, young guys think my tattoos are cool, then I tell them the story of Brandon and give them the website. I hope it might help someone else avoid the pain." You could tell by the conviction in her voice and the concise wording of her story that she had told it many times.

I wondered about the pain of her family. The loss, the suddenness, her drive to tell others to be careful.

I have found most tattoos have a story, many times the story is of hurt and pain and loss. Other stories are of drunken craziness or joy, to remember a good time or significant event. Tattoos are bookmarks in the memory that cause people to remember and re-create the emotions of the moment locked in ink under the skin. They are billboards filled with the passion of life, the pictures in the story book of human journey.

Katrina wears her tattoo to remember and hopes others will take time to ask and to listen to her tale.

How many folks do you meet on a weekly basis who carry art work on their bodies?
Have you ever taken the time to ask about the story behind the art? What kind of spiritual conversation might be started by a curious question? Are you brave enough to ask? Do you have a story that should be told in ink on your body? If Jesus were here, would he carry body art to tell the story of God?
Oh, by the way, Shelley and I did NOT take Jesus with us to the Chili's...Jesus was already there when we arrived;-)

His children shall call him blessed...

I met Jane and Brad Tippet over ten years ago. They are wallpaper contractors and good at their trade. About nine years ago they lost their fourteen year old daughter Jessica to leukemia. Brad carved much of the lettering on a headstone that sits on the grave. They are Jesus-people. They are not traditional-church-going Christians, but show they know Jesus by the lives they lead.

Jane called me earlier in the week. Her 80 year old father died and the family needed a preacher for the memorial service. I had met Mr. Ferrell during the time of Jessica's death, but that had been some years ago. He was a man of faith, so I could always point to his Jesus and a reunion that will take place in the future, I just hoped that would be enough.

Early Wednesday morning I visited the house where Mr Ferrell had lived. Three of his children and a DIL and a SIL were there. As they began to tell me about their father, the picture became more and more clear. Mr Ferrell was a man who worked hard to make sure his family had what they needed. He had a huge sense of humor that caused the family to have fond memories of childhood. He loved his children, grand children and great grand children.Mr Ferrell was a devoted husband to his wife of 57 years until her death four years ago. His son Mark said his father did not teach him how to live or be a man by words, but he did it by his life.

I was surprised by the service. The kids were going to eulogize their father. I hoped they would not be overwhelmed by grief as they spoke.

Boy, was I about to go to school. Glenda, the second oldest daughter, told many of the funny stories of Mr. Ferrell. She told of a man who loved and laughed and taught the family to do the same. Jane, the youngest, read a letter she wrote to her father on Father's Day almost twenty years ago. Words twenty years old shouted of the faith, love, care and concern this man had for his children and family. Mark, the youngest son, sang a song in tribute to his father and said, "He was the greatest man I have ever known."

As you can imagine, after the children gave testimony to the greatness of their father, there was not much I could say. Their words were a honorary memorial to the life of this "common" man, a simple wallpaper hanger, a simple husband, a simple father, a simple grand father, a simple great grand father, a simple WWII vet, a simple Jesus man; who's impact will be seen for several generations to come.

Carl Glenn Ferrell
May 20, 1927
May 4, 2008

People we love die...it is no fun, ever...

Sharon Henderson is a leader in the NC homeschool movement. She hosts/moderates one of the largest homeschool email rings on the east coast. Thousands of homeschooling parents exchange ideas and information everyday. My wife has been reading and contributing to Sharon's loop for years. In the past year Sharon has lost BOTH parents in death. Yesterday, she sent out an email to all on her loop. I post it hoping that all of us can learn to care for each other in better ways, and prepare for what is ahead.



Hi, guys!

May I share a hard learned tidbit about funerals and death?

You are still reading so I'm guessing you are curious.
From my now vast experience:

* example: Jesus wept and mourned many times in His life..remember Lazarus?
John 11

* when someone is crying, don't try to talk them out of it! They may need to
cry!!

There were a few times at the cemetery when it occurred to me that I was,
for the first time in my life, leaving both of my parents behind.
And seeing Mom's fresh grave without any grass was such an insult. I know
that sounds strange, but it was so true.

I could give you all the scripture, all the doctrine, all the HOPE, all the
whatever you want....but I was overwhelmed with all the loneliness! The
tears came and didn't stop right away.

Several old friends came over to give words of comfort. They just kept
talking and talking. That was irritating!

An old friend came over and stood between me and the others. I love her!
Then Dave came over, put his arms around me, and cried with me.
Both of those acts were comfort.

If you are close to a sorrowing person, put your arms around them or
give them a hug and just be quiet or say something SHORT...."I'm sorry," "I love you," etc.

This is not the time to give a doctrinal dissertation about heaven or
anything!
Sometimes the loneliness just hits.

There are times to talk and times to be quiet.
If the grieving person isn't talking, be quiet. Take their lead.
If they are talking, don't be afraid to talk about your sweet memories.

Lovingly, as one of the old women in your life!
Sharon