A Flood of Sadness
Why did reading the NOAA's weather site homepage today bring back a flood of sadness? This is what I read:
Daniel and Mary's two boys were nearly the same age as Shane and Grant in our family. Their sister Rachel was born a number of months later. She's married now to my nephew Christopher.
I remember talking to Barbara Yoder in hushed tones at the cemetery about the lowest temperatures reported during her and my lifetime (we're an hour NW of Wichita, where the weather report above originated) and the cemetery is not sheltered from the north wind, so it was very cold. We had a burial anyway, and Hiromi and I all three of our boys braved the cold in the cemetery along with many others, although I remember having to leave the group early because Grant (almost a year old) was crying from the cold.
It was hard to sing Christmas carols that year and "Joy to the World" was hard to remember. My dear friend Mary was a widow now, and her two daddy-loving boys were fatherless. Daniel's parents, Crist and Mae, had already experienced the death of one son, Marvin, who died at the age of eight,
Another son, Delmar, who was a teenager, died the following year, within days of Daniel and Mary's daughter Rachel's birth.
We had a family picture scheduled for one of the days between the death and the funeral. We took the picture, and I'm glad we did, but I remember the circumstances every time I see the picture.
No time of year is an easy time to deal with death, but Christmas time seems especially poignant when cruel reminders of our world's brokenness mix incongruously with the celebratory spirit of the season.
On this Day in Weather History...
In 1989, an Arctic airmass spread southeast across the Central Plains and Eastern United States. A staggering 137 cities set record lows for the date, 35 of which were record lows for December. One such location accomplishing both feats was Wichita, which chilled out with a low of 16 below zero. Morning lows of 23 degrees below zero in Kansas City, 26 below in Concordia, and 27 below in Goodland Kansas were all time record lows for the three locations.
That day occurred during the time around our friend Daniel Yoder's funeral. He had died instantly several days earlier in the pre-dawn hours when he was riding an ATV on his way to do chores at the diary barn across the highway, and got hit by a vehicle. In 1989, an Arctic airmass spread southeast across the Central Plains and Eastern United States. A staggering 137 cities set record lows for the date, 35 of which were record lows for December. One such location accomplishing both feats was Wichita, which chilled out with a low of 16 below zero. Morning lows of 23 degrees below zero in Kansas City, 26 below in Concordia, and 27 below in Goodland Kansas were all time record lows for the three locations.
Daniel and Mary's two boys were nearly the same age as Shane and Grant in our family. Their sister Rachel was born a number of months later. She's married now to my nephew Christopher.
I remember talking to Barbara Yoder in hushed tones at the cemetery about the lowest temperatures reported during her and my lifetime (we're an hour NW of Wichita, where the weather report above originated) and the cemetery is not sheltered from the north wind, so it was very cold. We had a burial anyway, and Hiromi and I all three of our boys braved the cold in the cemetery along with many others, although I remember having to leave the group early because Grant (almost a year old) was crying from the cold.
It was hard to sing Christmas carols that year and "Joy to the World" was hard to remember. My dear friend Mary was a widow now, and her two daddy-loving boys were fatherless. Daniel's parents, Crist and Mae, had already experienced the death of one son, Marvin, who died at the age of eight,
Another son, Delmar, who was a teenager, died the following year, within days of Daniel and Mary's daughter Rachel's birth.
We had a family picture scheduled for one of the days between the death and the funeral. We took the picture, and I'm glad we did, but I remember the circumstances every time I see the picture.
No time of year is an easy time to deal with death, but Christmas time seems especially poignant when cruel reminders of our world's brokenness mix incongruously with the celebratory spirit of the season.
posted by Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige) at
3:50 PM
4 Comments:
Thank you, Miriam, for remembering. December 13, the day of Aunt Fannie's funeral, marked 25 years since Daniel died. I felt a lot of sadness that day. I felt sorrow for Uncle Mervin and his family and sadness as I remembered the loss of of my big brother Daniel 25 years earlier.
Delmar actually died the next July. His funeral was the day before Rachel was born. Her birth was a bright spot amidst the sorrow.
Irene
By
Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige), at 12/23/2014
The above comment came in by email after an unsuccessful effort to post. I'm glad for the accurate information also, and may find time later to go back and change things in the post.
By
Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige), at 12/23/2014
Oh yes, when the searing pain of losing a loved one or the numbness of accumulated losses collide with the festivities of the Christmas season, hope can seem a mockery... Perhaps those deep aches of the heart can function as gifts as we reflect on the healing Jesus came to bring. I'd like to think so. Norma
By
Anonymous, at 12/24/2014
Thanks, Norma. I like the idea of seeing healing gifts in the coming of Jesus. Knowing too that Jesus came to a destiny of suffering helps us see Him as having gone the way before all who suffer.
By
Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige), at 12/25/2014
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