David Firestone

David Firestone. Seeing his name in this morning’s obituaries brought back a rush of fond memories and a renewed awareness of the huge role he played in making me the pastor I am today.

David was lay leader of one of the first churches I pastored, Epworth-Roanoke UMC. The product of the merger of two churches near KU Med Center, it was a small church with a loving congregation. I was privileged to spend five years there in less-than-full-time ministry during our three children’s preschool and early elementary years. David’s wife, Helen, taught my children in Sunday school with great love and patience, which was the best gift that this pastor/mother could receive.

David was a WW2 vet, and his kindness, gentleness, and wisdom reflected the epitome of the Greatest Generation. He was a preacher’s kid himself (his dad was Rev. O.S. Firestone), and his parsonage childhood made him particularly supportive of pastors. Being in a small church meant that he worked with many fresh-to-ministry pastors, yet he never held our inexperience against us. He was willing to try any scheme to reach out to the diverse community surrounding the church, and if he ever was less-than-enthusiastic about some crazy idea I had, I never knew it. His unwavering support taught me to receive with gratitude the gift of the laity with whom God has blessed me in every congregation. 

In thinking about how to describe David’s true heart and soul, an event came to my mind that occurred many years after I left that church. Epworth-Roanoke had one of the largest endowments of any church I’ve served, especially for a church that size. In spite of our best efforts, and in spite of the best efforts of the pastors who succeeded me, the time came when the church decided to close. When I heard about that decision, I asked a couple of questions. Had the “regulars” stopped attending? Had the endowment dried up? After all, the church could stay open for many more years simply by spending that money. No, I was told. The core group of members was still mostly there, and the endowment remained in its entirety. However, they had decided that they weren’t going to be able to bring in new people, and so they wanted to go ahead and close while they were still able to send the endowment to the Missouri Conference where it could be used to seed new churches and bring in new members. That grace-full decision had the fingerprints of David Firestone all over it.

As I read these words, they seem somehow inadequate to express the impact of David on my ministry. His impact was not based on huge, glamorous moments, but on the steady, calm, day-to-day, grace-infused leadership that he offered the congregation and this pastor. 

To honor David, I’ve rescheduled a significant meeting tomorrow so that I can attend his funeral. (Thanks for understanding, Mayor.) The weather forecast indicates that ice might keep me away in spite of my best intentions. Even if I cannot make it to the service, I remember once again the grace that he offered so generously to a young pastor and mother, and I smile with fondness and gratitude. May your spirit live on in all of us who have been blessed to know you.

How is Everyone Doing?

“How is everyone doing?” Many kind people have asked me this question these past few days. Following the untimely death of Michelle Mueller-Hinton, our beloved Director of Christian Education and Learning Ladder Preschool, everyone- friends, teachers, children, church members, staff, and family, especially family- everyone is grieving. Grieving itself is a good gift of God, and it is a part of becoming whole, even in the grip of loss.

How is everyone doing their grieving has been powerful to see. I’ve seen it on Sunday morning in worship and Monday and Tuesday mornings in preschool. Of course there are tears, and there are those hugs that are actually a way for two people to hold each other up. There are loving conversations in homes and in hallways and in grocery stores and everywhere else. There are circles of people praying in our classrooms. There are people coming down the Sunday school hall to say, “Here I am. Do you need me to go teach or just help somewhere?” (We did.)  There are staff members who are putting in long hours to do double and triple duty to make sure everything is covered, even as they are grieving deeply themselves. There are so very many acts of kindness, big and small.  These are assurances that we will all get through this grief together, and we will.

One of my favorite acts of kindness that I’ve witnessed was the person who brought donuts to the Learning Ladder staff, saying “Food is my love language.” Even when people don’t know exactly what to do, I keep seeing people do what is exactly right. People have offered and continue to offer to help the church, the preschool, and each other get through this time. Thank you. You are truly making a difference.

There is laughter, too, and that’s good. There are the moments when something comes up, and we’ll say automatically, “Oh, let’s ask Michelle. . .” And then a rueful smile, or a tear, or a chuckle. All of these things are a part of how we grieve, and they are along the path to healing.

How are the children doing? Mostly, they are doing what children do, which is play together and process things at their own pace in their own manner. When Michelle would be asked by parents how to help their children deal with loss, she would recommend the book The Fall of Freddie the Leaf, by Leo Buscaglia. It’s a good book for all ages, and I join Michelle in commending it to you.

On Saturday, we’ll celebrate Michelle’s life with joy and laughter, along with tears. All of these things can coexist at the same time in grief. 

How is everyone doing? We are doing this grief together, which is the best and only way that it can be done. Which is exactly how Michelle would do it, too.

An Election Day Prayer

Dear God,

I pray to you for my beloved country. Today, I will get to live out the freedom with which I have been gifted as I cast my ballot. Grant me wisdom and discernment, so that my choices may reflect your call to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with you.  May my vote ennoble my community, and may it help bring into reality my prayers for peace on earth.

I thank you, O God, for those persons who have offered themselves in public service. I am humbled by their willingness to serve, even at great personal cost, so that they might be in a position to make tough decisions on my behalf. Protect and uphold these persons, even the ones for whom I do not vote.

Forgive me for the times I have judged someone harshly simply for holding political opinions which differ from mine. May I treat persons of other political stripes the same way that I would have them treat me. Give me a patient persistence as I wait in line to vote today, coupled with the vision to see your image reflected in the poll workers and the people standing in line around me. Transform my natural impatience so that I may be a joyful and peaceful presence to others as I wait for the privilege of casting my ballot.

When the election results are known this night, allow me a generous grace when the causes and candidates I support are victorious. Strengthen within me an enduring hope when my causes and candidates fail. 

At the end of this day, just as at the beginning of this day, you alone are God. Your steadfast love for all of creation, including this creature, persists. Grant me an abiding trust in your love that will allow me to sleep peacefully tonight. And in the light of tomorrow’s new day, give me grace to pray once again for my beloved country in which I am blessed to dwell.

Amen.