Joyful Transformation

Last weekend we took down our Flag before the storm (Dennis) came. David and I were folding it in the prescribed way when he asked me “did you know this is how you are supposed to fold it?” Yes, I knew.

When I was in high school it was often my task to lower and raise the flag. I don’t remember if it was Student Council officers or who that did this, but I know that I was involved. I am not sure that I would remember this, but one afternoon me and my friend Charlotte were just about finished folding the flag up when my Dad came running up to me on the school grounds. Now, he drove a school bus in the afternoons, so it was not that strange for him to be on school grounds just odd that he was approaching me in such a state of hurry. Well, as suspected he was not bringing good news. My uncle had died of a heart attack in his country store earlier that day. Dad wanted me to pick up my cousins, my uncle’s grandchildren, and take them home. “Do they know?” I asked. “I doubt it, you need to tell them.” Great! I am 18 years old, how was I going to handle this. I found my cousin Denise and told her as calmly as possible. She didn’t take it too well, but we had to go to the Jr. High school 10 miles away and pick up her younger brother and sister, so she made an effort to stay calm. In an effort to keep the younger children calm they were told at school that he had a heart attack and was at the hospital. So now they are questioning me; “Could he be alive?” How was I supposed to know? I just told them let’s get to their Grandma’s house and we could all find out……Of course, it was true. He was gone. I grew up a lot that day. I had to go to the drugstore for my aunt and other tasks that normally an adult would do. That day I was treated as an adult. Inside my guts told me I was a kid and I just wanted to go sit with my Mom, but I knew I had to be strong.

My Mom’s family was 5 boys and 5 girls. Uncle Amos was the third oldest child but the first to die. My grandmother was bed-ridden at the time, but she knew. I had little experience in going to funerals at this time in my life but the other two I could remember were very emotional. My Grandpa, my Dad’s dad died when I was 12. I had never seen my dad cry before then; this was a hard on a little girl. When I was 16 my 5th grade teacher, my first male teacher (so of course we all had a crush on him) died from a brain tumor. He was only 27 and left two small children. This funeral was extremely traumatic as his wife followed the coffin out of the church building crying “no, no. no!” This experience was going to be equally dramatic. Somebody ordered one of those “Missing-Spoke” flower arrangements. That was the saddest thing I had ever seen. I will never forget my big strong uncles as well as my formidable aunts breaking down and sobbing when they brought this in.

Funerals since that time while sad have never been as emotionally devastating. Sadly it almost becomes routine in our lives. Well, I guess it is routine, we are a dying people, we will continue to tell our loved ones good-bye until Jesus comes back. The youngest five children in my mother’s family are all that is left. My Mom called this morning to tell me one of my uncles is in very bad shape. It is very possible we will be telling him good-bye soon.

Folding a flag caused all of those memories to flood over me last weekend. Mom’s call reminded me of the memories this morning. Today I miss the innocence of the girl who went out to take the flag down.