My sister Dorcas sent us Mother's Day photos of herself with her daughters and then with her sons, which gave me the idea for these snaps of my daughters and me near our church.
It's easy to think everyone else has their acts together when we don't.
Like when we're trying to get four girls and a mom in one piece for a photo.
And the boys are a whole different story.
Like when we end up getting to
church late, with one kid kicking off his shoes and showing a hole so
big in his socks that not just one but two toes are sticking through, to
say nothing of a second hole with a heel showing through.
And he's holding his foot high in the air in the middle of the service without any compunction.
When are you boys going to cooperate?
There's always got to be one not quite showing up.
And there's lots of nice smiles till it's the actual picture.
But oh, well, it's a little interlude in between posts about funerals!!!
This week we attended the funeral of our sweet friend, Carole VanWagenen, who finally made it safely across the river.
The night before she died, having been mostly unresponsive and unmoving for days,
while the pastor and his wife and the Frenches were singing for her,
she had suddenly sat up and tried to say something. It was a little miracle!
Here are the Frenches singing at her funeral.
Our former pastor, Bro. Derald Hunt, sharing a eulogy using an acrostic using Carole's name:
C--Caring
A--Always there
R--Real
O--Others oriented
L--Loving
E--Everyone included
Our pastor, Bro. Steve Kearney, shared a refreshing message and presented the gospel to any present who did not know the Lord.
Jonathan Finch, who had been one of Carole's caregivers, and Robert Lefever played a trumpet solo:
"When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder."
The pall bearers were (from back left clockwise) Ward French, Michael Clark, Jonathan Finch, Derald Hunt, Tim Rhoades (Naomi French's brother) and Ben Reynolds.
Sis. Carole's final resting place was in Evergreen Cemetery, one of the most beautiful cemeteries I've ever been in. Sammy heard someone say that fourteen years ago this cemetery already had 75,000 people buried in it.
In the distance, the mountains near Pikes Peak are visible.
Our pastor led in singing "Amazing Grace," and told us that this casket was just a "hope chest!"
It was one of the most joyful and hopeful funerals I've ever been to.
We knew beyond a shadow of doubt Sis. Carole was in heaven.
And since her husband had gone on before and she had no children, there were no immediate family left to grieve.
Just friends to rejoice for her complete healing and victorious home going.
Crystal is holding Priscilla [Lefever] Carrol's little baby boy.
Priscilla is washing dishes.
Grandma Fern Lefever just loves her first grandbaby.
He's so pretty everyone thinks he is a girl, she says, no matter how much blue you dress him in!
And Grandpa Robert wouldn't be bursting his buttons or anything like that.
And when Carrie remarked about how this funeral bouquet was her favorite,
it got sent home with her!
It still looks beautiful in the morning sunlight.
And on Sunday morning when a little time was set aside in the morning service for thoughts of Sis. Carole, Jonathan read this poem that I had been inspired to write shortly after hearing about her crossing over.
*********
Sis. Carole's New Address
What was it like, Sis. Carole,
When the angels lifted you,
From that weary bed and took you instead
To a home beyond the blue?
What was it like when they set you down
Upon those streets of gold
And with hand held tight, you stood upright
Till without a hand to hold
You stood all strong and suddenly found
That you could walk and skip?
That when you had a chance you could run and dance
And do a cartwheel flip?
What was it like to reach your arm
And find you were embraced?
To sense a tug and feel a hug
And look into Christ's face?
What was it like to hear His voice
And hear that "Child, well done!"
To leave this stark old earth's thick dark
For the land of eternal Sun?
What was it like to leave your poor
Weak body far below?
To walk flowery fields now strong and healed
With Christ Who loves you so?
Send us a note, Sis. Carole,
To answer these thoughts on our mind.
With fingers so agile that once lay so fragile,
Write us a note undersigned,
Signed by one "Carole Van Wagenen,
Redeemed by God's marvelous grace."
Resting in Christ, whose blood has sufficed
To merit you see His face.
Send us a note, Sister Carole,
From your heavenly home addressed.
Touched with perfumes from heavenly blooms,
From your home of eternal rest.
Goodbye, goodbye, Sis. Carole,
But the end of our own road is not far.
Pass your baton! We are following on
With our wagons hitched to your Star!
---lovingly penned by her friend,
Anna Lucas
And on Sunday morning when a little time was set aside in the morning service for thoughts of Sis. Carole, Jonathan read this poem that I had been inspired to write shortly after hearing about her crossing over.
*********
Sis. Carole's New Address
What was it like, Sis. Carole,
When the angels lifted you,
From that weary bed and took you instead
To a home beyond the blue?
What was it like when they set you down
Upon those streets of gold
And with hand held tight, you stood upright
Till without a hand to hold
You stood all strong and suddenly found
That you could walk and skip?
That when you had a chance you could run and dance
And do a cartwheel flip?
What was it like to reach your arm
And find you were embraced?
To sense a tug and feel a hug
And look into Christ's face?
And hear that "Child, well done!"
To leave this stark old earth's thick dark
For the land of eternal Sun?
What was it like to leave your poor
Weak body far below?
To walk flowery fields now strong and healed
With Christ Who loves you so?
Send us a note, Sis. Carole,
To answer these thoughts on our mind.
With fingers so agile that once lay so fragile,
Write us a note undersigned,
Signed by one "Carole Van Wagenen,
Redeemed by God's marvelous grace."
Resting in Christ, whose blood has sufficed
To merit you see His face.
Send us a note, Sister Carole,
From your heavenly home addressed.
Touched with perfumes from heavenly blooms,
From your home of eternal rest.
Goodbye, goodbye, Sis. Carole,
But the end of our own road is not far.
Pass your baton! We are following on
With our wagons hitched to your Star!
---lovingly penned by her friend,
Anna Lucas
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