A Resurrected Revelation

A Resurrected Revelation

Once upon a recent Sunday, our scripture lesson was Luke 20: 27-40, which is titled in the RSV as “Resurrection and Marriage.”  Let me do a tad of paraphrasing here and really gum up the works: it was the custom of the day for a man to marry his Brother’s wife at such time as his Brother died leaving her a widow and she being without children.  He was to care for her and of course hopefully she’d have some children along the way.  Well this particular time, it didn’t happen, and not only didn’t it happen once, it didn’t happen seven times as this fellow had seven Brothers and she ended up marrying them all, then she died, which was probably to her, a welcomed blessing in itself. 

Well the Sadducees pounced on Jesus and asked, “’When we all get to Heaven’ (there’s a song in there somewhere!), to whom are we going to see this woman married?”  (Here’s where the “red letter addition” takes off) Jesus responded, “Today in this life, we marry as is our custom, but in the next life, those of us that are ‘worthy and well qualified’ shall not marry, nor be given in marriage, for they are all Angels of God.”  (Let me tell you, that calmed me considerable, having blindly run, stumbled and fallen all the way to the alter three separate times, I was worried this ole saddle horse would be hitched to a four horse wagon all by my alone!)

And then the Light was Revealed!  I saw the burning bush, the snake that turned to a stick and even a glimpse of the pieces of that one stone tablet Mose dropped the first time he came down from the mountain!  When we step off the boat onto Heaven’s shore, we’re equal.  Men are equal to women…finally equal pay sees the light of day!  Men are equal to each other.  No one person is better than the next.  And would you know too, that we’re color blind as to race and we’re not quarreling over which version of the scripture is the proper version. 

As I peer into that bright light, I’m amazed at whom I see there.  Lo and behold, they’re looking back at me thinking that same thought; a wonderment unto itself; a lack of judgment one to another.  All those petty grievances I once saw were gone.  Smiles on each and every face, and the slapping on the back and joking and laughing among them all sent chills up my back and tears down my face.  I see everyone is blind to all grievances, great and small.  Every impure and vile thought we garnered before we were raised was washed away in a curtain of blood we passed through as we crossed over to the other side.  There were no rumors or gossip. In reality, we are not the ones who judges petty versus cardinal sins for the ticket on that last boat ride, so the truth of the matter is that it doesn’t matter one iota.  These imperfections are missing.  Everyone is a friend to everyone else.

There is no need for marriage.  I suppose that is another story as to why do we marry, but from this li’l lesson, I’ll be brave here and say we do it to make one complete soul out of two partial souls.  Whether through death or divorce, our mates will be there too.  But we will see them on a different scale.  Gone are the wooing and the courtship of our mortal lives.  That stuff is so far past it isn’t even a memory.  Again, we’re now all simply together and enjoying one another’s friendship.  You know your parents and grandparents are there, and that Mother-in-law that was so critical is suddenly all full of love and praise. 

Perhaps I am ignorant and am comfortable I’ll make that far shore.  God Bless me! I have hope.  I have promise. And when I arrive, I expect a party and all the Baptists will be at the wine well with all my friend friends, my enemy friends and all my wife friends!  When I had this late life Revelation, water came to my eyes.  It was all that simple.  Why can’t I act accordingly every day in every way to everyone! 

PS: there are no calories in Heaven!

There's a Yankee in the wood pile!

Way long ago, when I was still a Child of the South, my Mother took a bus tour around the country. Ma was chasin' her dreams.  She surely wasn't tied to the milkcan like Daddy.  She had a "wanderin' bone," an' every chance she had on retiring, she took a trip. 

When she got to Bakersfield, the rest of the tour went to Disneyland, but Ma went to visit Aunt Edith, her Father's Sister, whom she'd never met.  Like so many relatives that live 'way off yonder,' I didn't even know Aunt Edith existed.  Oh, but I wish now to have been able to visit and speak to her.  Ma spoke a bit of the trip, but the most I remember her tellin' was of a treasure Aunt Edith showed Ma on this visit; her Father's Civil War Diary.  Ma was impressed, thrilled, even impassioned to see such a relic; a tie to history.  Aunt Edith didn't have any children, and Ma asked would she kindly pass the diary on to her. 

I don't know the particulars of the next couple years, but Ma called to tell me one day a small box showed up in the regular mail, and lo and behold, inside was the Diary.  She was thrilled beyond imagination.  There was a tintype picture, a newspaper clipping, a calling card type picture with his name written in pencil on the back, and this precious bit of family history, the diary; not lore! 

But joy wasn't exactly my memory of that moment.  I was really excited, because I grew up yearnin' to be a cowboy.  Herdin' cows, fightin' Indians, overcoming Yankees in some faraway skirmish where we were miserably outnumbered.  Hollywood created a magical wonderland to this one young buckaroo.  And then a reality check.  Grandpaw was a Yankee!  Oh no!  Can't be.  I'll never be able to face my friends.  A little boys dreams were shattered!  I suppose I was proud, but long after that initial shock.  I grew to accept it over time.  After all, we can't pick our parents.  Eventually, I grew to love Ma's discovery.  I loved my roots.  A new side was revealed to my bloodline.  I would, in time, be able to brag about having ancestors on both sides of the Civil War. 

Alex Hailey's TV Miniseries, "Roots," engendered a generation's search for their roots, and I became one of those hungry souls.  I went to the National Archives.  I traveled to the cemeteries reading headstones and discovering my own roots.  But in the Archives in DC, I uncovered a plethera of knowledge.  Philip W. Morgan of the 100th NY Infantry had his own folders there: not only his service records, but his pension records.  It was all I could do not to fold up a letter written by his Mother to Secretary of War Stanton begging him to "...exchange her son, who was caught by those wretched rebels at Drewery's Bluff..."  Oh what a thrill to see that beautiful handwritten note! 

That same day at the Archives, I wondered into the Confederate rolls looking for names.  I found not less than 8 Confederate ancestors from Union, Mecklenberg and Yadkin Counties.  My saving grace!  There is a God!  I can now be truly proud! 

But in reality, my Yankee Grandfather began my search and my education of the Civil War.  My heart tears apart when as a reenactor, I walk a battlefield where they walked and fought, and were even wounded.  Imagine the day I learned when Pvt. Stephen Godfrey was in the 18th NC Infantry at Chancellorsville; the unit with the not so proud distinction of shooting General Thomas 'Stonewall' Jackson, R.E.Lee's right hand man! 

Cpl. Morgan was successful in his pursuit of a pension for "the piles and rheutism" suffered as a prisoner of war.  His diary stated on June 30, 1864, the day he arrived at Andersonville, "I was taught that God was gracious and knew all things, but here I stand with 30,000 men with no food, clothes or shelter..."  It's all I can do not to cry when I read that passage.  There's water in my eyes now as I write.  Another cousin told me that Pvt Godfrey started 5 churches following the war.  It makes me proud to know that, regardless of which side the fought, they were God fearing men; a legacy that continues in both bloodlines! 

Amen! 

Naming the Children

One day there's just the two of you, then in all God's Glory, you're presented another "little you" or "little her" or a "li'l bit of Y'all!"  You spend the coming days buyin' furniture, decorating a room; just plain gettin' ready.  And then...you have to put a name to the little dickens. 

Is it a boy or a girl?  I never once thought it'd be anything but a boy.  Didn't even consider a girl happenin' to me, so my name selections were male.  The first was a troublesome start.  Which family member do you want to honor?  That's a beast of a decision, because leave one out, and whom did you disappoint?  No codependence issue here!!  My father; Thomas Henry?  Her father; Robert Kelly?  My favorite Uncle; Palmer?  I simply couldn't do them all with a First and Middle.  Loookin' back, I'd have picked one and been done with it, but I couldn't and took the easy route, so Junior it was.  I believe when I did that, I disappointed everyone, but once Li'l Phil burst forth, the name was the least of anyone's concern.  All they wanted was to grab hold an' hug an' love, and kiss an' snuggle, and brag, and brag and brag!  It was Little Phil and Big Phil for six years.  Now, I know why they called my Father, "Junior;" so they wouldn't have to do the Big Henry and Little Henry! 

He comes home from school on day one proclaiming, "my name is not Phil!"  He was almost in tears, for he was so confused.  "But Son, just tell the teacher to call you 'Phil.'"  I didn't have enough sense to call the teacher myself and explain.  So everyday, he'd answer roll call to "Michael," and everyday, he'd come home tellin' us his name wasn't 'Phil."  You can't imagine how tight that spiral could spin.  So, "Michael" it was and ever will be.  It took the Grandparents much longer to get use to the change; believe me!   

The second child came, and I took to the Bible.  Moses was the first name that I recall seeing, but there was no way I could do that to the child.  but Moses had a brother, Aaron...Bingo!  It hit the spot.  Doesn't take me long to shop!  I was on a mission, and the first thing that caught my eye made the sale.  No need to shop around and confuse the issue.  There was one li'l catch though: being the good Southern Baptist I was, or pretended to be, I added "Christian" in there to make sure he was on the right side of the fence.  So many years later, I know that was a foolish thought.  Shucks, today, I'd not think twice and name him Moses Aaron! 

So..."and Baby makes three!"  I had no say into the naming of that Precious Surprise.  Here I was thinkin' "Boy" again, but I had no clue, though his Mother did, and kept it a secret from me, which is a good thing, because I'm not of the leanin' that anyone should know which sex the child will be.  Sarah Kate was, is and always will be Daddy's li'l Gurl!  She was cute and fat and everything a Daddy loves in a daughter.  Daughter's are different.  That's all there is to say about it.  But there was a special meaning in this name that no one would ever know, except the ones that had been there before me; my best friends from school: the Four Wolves.  Four of us went through high school together, then on to the same college: NCState.  Ken, Don and Jerry all had daughters named Kate or Catherine or Kathy.  When Fran named Sarah, the very first thought I had was I finally had a "Kate!"  It was a personal bond that only I would know or find important.  As we grow older, and as one of us has passed way too soon, I feel the ring of friendship was strengthened with the birth of that dear child. 

Three children as different as could ever be, but no tighter a bond could you ever find in a family.  As much as a parent can love a child, there is no more special a blessing than to know they love you back.  I see it often, and am so proud.  No one can be fortunate without love.  My Fortune will always be the love of my children.