Emmanuel

A man lay dying in Cleveland’s Metro Hospital, having suffered burns over much of his body while attempting to rescue fellow tenants from a boarding house on the near west side. In his last moments he could be heard breathing the name “Emmanuel” repeatedly. Hospital staff did not know his true identity so they named him “Emmanuel Doe”.

The story of the fire spread throughout various reaches of cyberspace and some acquaintances began wondering if the man could be Raymond. He had attended our satellite church in Lakewood, and they knew he lived in the area. By that time his body lay in the morgue and it was my friends’ grievous task to confirm his identity.

Raymond struggled with alcoholism much of his adult life and alienated much of his family but in the end he became a hero for rescuing others from certain death. Having served faithfully in the Marines, his friends arranged his burial in Arlington National Cemetery. His astounding story reached the national news circuit.

There is profound significance in Raymond calling out the name “Emmanuel” in his last moments, for that is one of the names given to Jesus, and it means “God with us.” Though Raymond had faltered so many times throughout the course of his life, he finally had grasped the reality that God was not only with him but for him, in spite of his failings. He had grasped that truth sufficiently enough that even in his semi-consciousness he was able to call on His name. Raymond was painfully aware of his failures and perhaps that is what made it easier for him to receive the gift of Emmanuel.

Those of us with far greater means and achievements have learned to be reliant on our own strengths and resources. It takes longer for us to come to the end of ourselves and recognize our need for God’s presence. But there will come times in all of our lives when the circumstance we encounter is insurmountable in our own strength, whether it’s a fatal diagnosis, a tragic accident, a painful memory, a grievous loss.

The good news is that the name “Emmanuel” speaks to God’s very nature, that He wants to be with us, even though that’s hard for us to understand. And he wants to be with us, not just in the hard times, but in the daily disappointments and joys, the tedium and struggles, the victories and celebrations. And so my prayer this season is this:

“O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!
(O, Little Town of Bethlehem, lyrics by Phillips Brooks, 1867)

Many More Mothers

In honor of my father's birthday today I am finally making good on a commitment made over a year ago to profile his maternal heritage in my blog. For mother's day last year I profiled my mother's maternal heritage here: http://firstlightofdawn.blogspot.com/2009/05/many-mothers.html

My Parents:
Vinton Phillips with Elizabeth Hester Phillps
Vinton Phillips Born: November 20, 1921
Married: to Elizabeth Hester, July 15, 1946 in Huron County, Ohio
Parents: Wilmer Vinton Phillips and Mary Ida Schneiter Phillips
Children: John Robert, Deborah and Daniel



Here are my Father's mother and grandmothers:

My Paternal Grandmother:
Mary Schneiter with her husband Wilmer Vinton Phillips
Born: November 11, 1899 in Axtel, Erie County, Ohio. Married: to Wilmer Vinton Phillips, December 20, 1917, in Huron County, Ohio
Died: December 17, 1988 in New London, Huron County, Ohio
Parents: Adolph Schneiter and Lena Roth
Children: Vinton Phillips and William Phillips


My Paternal Great Grandmother:
Lena Roth with her husband Adolph Schneiter
Born: Oct 10, 1874 in Bern Switzerland
Died: May 18, 1941 in New London Ohio and buried in Fitchville Cemetery
Married: Adolph Schneiter
Parents: names unknown
Children: Anna, Mary, Lena, Marguerite, Albert and John




My Paternal Great Grandmother Lena Roth with her parents

(We don’t have names of her parents)

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My Paternal Great Grandmother
Anna Margaret Lynn with her husband William Phillips, holding my Grandfather, Wilmer Vinton Phillips
Anna Margaret Lynn : Born Feb 21, 1851 in Wyandot Co, OH Died Apr 14, 1920 in Fitchville, OH
Married: William Phillips
Parents: Celina Stevens and Melvin S. Lynn
Children: Martha Alena (aka Lena), William Wallace (aka Wally), Mary C. and Wilmer Vinton.






My Paternal Great Great Grandmother
Celina Stevens Lynn (Anna Lynn’s mother)
Born: 1830
Died: Jan 9, 1899
Married Melvin S. Lynn Aug 23, 1846 in Sherman Township, Huron Cty, OH
Parents: Catherine Saddler and William K. Stevens
Children:



My Great Great Grandmother:
Catherine Saddler (Celina Stevens mother )
Born: 1796
Died:
Married: William K. Stevens, Jan 1, 1818
Parent: Christoper Saddler and Sophia Ortz

My Grandfather Phillips' paternal grandmother (my great great Grandmother)
Mary Hartman (Born Aug 7, 1823 in Jefferson County OH
Died May 1, 1901 in Fitchville, OH
Married Thomas Phillips Sept 3, 1844 in Wellsville, Carroll Cty, OH
Parents: Sarah Saltsman and Solomon Hartman
Children: William, Sarah, Elizabeth, Mary, Martha and Thomas

My Grandfather Phillips' paternal great Grandmother (my great great great Grandmother)
Elizabeth Iser
Born: July 5, 1771 in Pennsylvania
Died: January 15, 1845 in Columbiana County
Married: William Phillips, June 18, 1792
Children: Reuben, George, Samuel, Peter, Catherine, Rachel, William, Thomas

Enriched

Reaching certain birthday milestones can elicit thoughts of how fast the years have flown, and really, where did they all go? And the things we wish would have turned out differently and how much more life we want to live in our years remaining.

But as I approach my birthday this year I have been feeling a deep sense of gratitude, primarily brought on by the re-discovery of mementos and photographs uncovered in the process of cleaning out closets and storage spaces this past spring. These artifacts from decades past, these scraps of paper representing significant experiences, these photographs capturing just a moment in time…. They all bring the past back to the front of my mind as if they happened yesterday. And with that a flood of memories, most of them good.

Blog posts generally should be shorter than this one, but the more I think about how enriched my life has been, the more I have to say and I don’t feel like condensing something so important.

Over the course of my adult life I’ve lived in 6 cities, moving from Mansfield to Columbus, to Canton to Stow/Akron to Sandusky and finally to Parma/Cleveland. And the challenge of each transition was made so much easier by the new friends and acquaintances made along the way and how we enriched one another’s lives.

My career path might seem convoluted to some, but to me it’s been a rich variety of colorful and challenging experiences and its all contributed to making me good at what I do today.

I’ve worked in a hospital laboratory, and served people with disabilities and their families in a variety of ways (I’ll save the details for another blog post). I got to travel around Ohio providing technical assistance to social service agencies. I’ve earned a living as a portrait photographer and I’ve sold cameras and worked in photo printing labs. At The City Mission I’ve produced a variety of marketing materials (newsletters, annual reports, brochures, displays and videos.) I filled in for a short time at our women’s shelter and now I’m a grant writer, but also do much of the photography and write copy for various media. I can say with certainty that in each instance I’ve given it my best.

I can look back with satisfaction on the challenges met and conquered. I aced a graduate level course in statistics. I conducted a research study in graduate school and reported the results in my master’s thesis. I climbed the 14,000 foot Mt Princeton in Colorado. I was part of a team that helped get Mike out of shackles in a state mental health hospital to living in his own place in the community. I managed a crisis intervention team serving people having both a cognitive disability and mental illness and together we got two bureaucratic systems to work together.

I’ve experienced the beauty and wonder of this land’s rich biodiversity, from Acadia National Park in Maine to the Grand Canyon and many places in between. The ocean spray, the dessert heat, the expansive skies, the vast plains, the cool mountain stream, sunrise over the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I could probably write a book on how my camera has gotten me into some very interesting places/situations, like a 12 hour ride on a lake freighter hauling iron ore, a Hungarian debutant ball, and a homeless shelter and that in turn led to a job.

Through it all my family has always been close by as together we work our way through life’s joys and challenges. The value of that is beyond measure. And what a joy it has been to watch my brothers’ children grow up into such fine adults.

Remembering in such a way seems good for the soul. It keeps a healthy perspective on all that’s gone before and provides a foundation of gratitude that keeps our dwelling standing when the storms come.

“You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered!”
Psalm 139: 16-17 NLT.

Best of all, God knows the worst about me yet he believes the best, because he sees me as what I’m becoming through His work in my life. “…we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” Ephesians 2:10 NLT

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Happy Birthday to me...!

O for spacious skys

Sometimes I feel hemmed in by the city’s confines, a dense network of blacktop and concrete, brick, stone, steel and glass. The constant hum of motorized vehicles passing to and fro; the tidy rows of houses with barely enough room between them for a drive way; … and summertime’s open windows mean I hear more than I’d like of neighbors’ private conversations. It’s impossible to escape the noise even in the beautiful green spaces that make up our city’s “Emerald Necklace.” And it’s often difficult to obtain an unobstructed view of the natural landscape.

Most of the time I take it in stride, but this afternoon my mind is traveling to the open fields near where I grew up, and the plots of land once tilled by my grandfathers and great grandfathers, and there the people who still work the earth and fill our grocery stores. Sometimes at the four-way stops on Butler Road just outside my hometown I roll down the windows just to listen. There’s nary a sound excepting the distant bird call and wind sifting through the amber grain and the lush-green stalks of corn. “O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain…”

Preserving memories

Beside my Dad’s desk is a built-in book case of several shelves lined with three-ring notebooks, each filled with sleeved pages of text and images, each notebook categorized by subject area. There are more such notebooks in the front closet. One is labeled “Elizabeth” for things pertaining to my mother, from her favorite recipes to her military discharge papers and photographs of her with her children.

Another is marked “Webb” pertaining to my great-great grandfather Loren Webb, and his materials overflow into other notebooks since we have a transcript of his Civil War diary, letters and other documentation of his life, including a portrait of his father and many of his Civil War comrades.

There is a notebook pertaining to military service of both he and my mother, and long lists of veterans from the local area and where they served and how long, all typed out by Dad with the “hunt and peck” method.

I think one of Dad’s favorites is the book labeled “Us” pertaining to the life that he and my mother have made together, filled with family photographs through the years and the before-and-after images of the extensive remodeling our family home has undergone in the 65 years my parents have lived there.

This past spring Dad assigned a number to each notebook and then typed up an index list noting the subject area of each. All the notebooks now sit on the shelves in numbered sequence.

After indexing his notebooks Dad announced he was not going to make any more and besides the shelves are full, but I noted that with a new great grandchild on the way, we most certainly would need to make room for at least one more notebook. Indeed, since Helena’s arrival several weeks ago, a steady flow of photographs has been pouring into his e-mail in-box.

I think the moral of the story is that in these days of living fast forward, it’s important to have ways to preserve the past, and to remember it, even the difficult times, and to experience the gratitude of a life well-lived, and to pass on those memories and values to succeeding generations.

Every day my parents have what they call a “meeting”, sitting next to each other on the couch, holding hands, reflecting on the day’s events or the days gone by. These meetings often involve pulling a notebook or two from the bookshelf for the sake of remembering. And often these meetings are punctuated with one of Dad’s favorite words, “Us.” It’s a loaded word, reflecting on all they’ve been through together, the good and the not-so-good.

Sometimes when I’m visiting I sit with them on the couch and hold hands too. And that’s a memory that can only be preserved in my heart.

Happy Father’s Day Dad! I love you.

The last hurrah

The subject of funerals has come up three times in the last couple of weeks and it’s got me to thinking.

Scenario #1, friend Lisa was disparaging of the Catholic Mass performed for her mother. From the perspective of someone whose faith is so vibrant, the religious repetitions seemed empty and meaningless.

Scenario #2, friend Mike whose sister passed away suddenly of a massive heart attack. His brother-in-law asked Mike to conduct the service. True to his wacky sense of humor they came upon the idea to reenact scenes from his sister’s favorite Monty Python movie. Then someone sang the song, I can only imagine, (about what’s on the other side) and Mike talked as friend to friend about his own faith walk and how for him it is about a relationship and not a religion. When he extended the invitation for others to come along on the same journey, quite a few took him up on the offer.

Scenario #3, the celebratory service of my cousin Gretchen (actually my mother’s cousin’s wife but I still considered her my cousin) who left meticulous instructions for how she wanted her service to be conducted. She had fought a long hard battle with multiple myeloma and such suffering can drastically change our perspective on what’s important in life (and in death). It was designed to be one last opportunity for her to share her quiet yet vital faith.

And now I’m reminded of Raymond who struggled with alcoholism much of his adult life and alienated much of his family but in the end he became a hero, attempting to rescue fellow tenants from a burning boarding house. From his dying lips he whispered the name of the One he had come to know in a personal way, Immanuel, which means “God with us.” He had made the choice to follow the God who makes His home with us in the form of Jesus, the One who forgives, heals and restores us from brokenness. Friends made sure he received burial with honors at Arlington National Cemetery and his remarkable story reached the national news circuit.

How do you want to be remembered? Perhaps your answer would change the course of your life if your current direction isn’t leading you to the desired end. You’re never too young or too old to think about it.

Our exit from this life is really not the “last hurrah,” but the beginning of eternity and that’s a really long time. It all hinges on the choice we make today to follow Him... or not.

Rainy day flowers

Taken at the Cleveland Botanical Gardens June 5, 2010. Top to bottom, Dogwood, Habiscus and Purple Foxglove, or digitalis purpurea.