Father’s Day Memories

My dad passed away seven years ago, on March 30, 2010. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. Father’s Day stirs memories of pool parties and cook outs, my dad grilling, waving a spatula around as he chatted animatedly. 

I also remember the long summer evenings of my teen years, when my dad and several of his friends would roar off into the night on their motorcycles, usually with me and one of my sisters perched on the back of a couple of the bikes. That was freedom to me, riding along in the gathering dusk, the cool wind tangling my long hair. The songs of the summer insects and the distintive rumble of the motorcycle as it sped down the road invited my soul to soar. 

Father's Day Memories
In fact, I strongly connect motorcycles with my father. He always had one…or two or three…as far back as I can remember. Some of my earliest childhood memories are of sitting as a toddler in front of my young dad on a Harley Davidson as he slowly cruised up and down the street, giving me a ride. Toward the end of his life, Dad favored a yellow Harley Davidson Fat Boy and finally, when he grew more frail, he rode a black Harley trike. 

That motorcycle connection carries sweet significance today. 

After my father passed away, my gracious stepmom invited my sisters and me to pick out shirts of my dad’s to keep. I don’t recall what Linda and Debbie chose, but I took home a shirt that my dad wore shortly before he passed…a Harley Davidson sleeveless tee. 

My dad fought a valiant two year battle with pancreatic cancer. When he drew his final breath he was a shadow of his former self, so the shirt I selected was small in size. I tucked it away in a drawer and never expected to wear it, as I knew it would not fit me. But it was Dad’s. The essence of who he was clung to that shirt like a fragrance. I was grateful to have it. 

Imagine my delight recently, nine months after adopting a plant based lifestyle, to try on the Harley Davidson shirt and discover that it now fit perfectly. It forged a stronger connection with my dad, to be able to wear his shirt. I knew then that when Father’s Day arrived this year, I would wear the sleeveless t shirt in honor of my motorcycle dad. 

And I have worn the shirt today, with a sense of joy and remembrance. With my jeans, black boots and the black t shirt, I look like a biker babe, or at least, a wanna be biker babe. I think I needed a doo rag to pull off the look! I have felt my dad near in spirit, exuding joy himself. Surrounding me throughout the day has been a deep abiding love, as real as the fabric of this shirt we have shared, a father’s compassion for his child…a daughter’s adoration of her father. 

Father's Day Memories
As I drove to my mom and stepdad’s house this afternoon, to join my sister in treating Walter to a father’s day lunch, I scanned the road around me. Since his death, my dad has sent a yellow motorcycle across my path each Father’s Day, as a way to let me know he is near, that death is not the end, that his soul is eternal. 

The street I normally use to get to my mom’s is closed for repairs. I was forced to drive another way. The pavement was wet, and the air cool, after hours of thunderstorms. Would anyone be out on a motorcycle today? As I drove I began to ask, “Where are you Dad? Where is the yellow motorcycle? Where are you?” 

I was almost to the turn off to Mom’s. I kept watching…asking…hoping. Suddenly, over the hill ahead popped a motorcycle, the only one I would see today, roaring toward me and then flying by. 

It was a yellow motorcycle. My iPhone lay forgotten on my lap. I didn’t get a pic. But I laughed and thanked my dad for his timely love note. And I recalled that one of my last memories of my dad involved a motorcycle as well. On his birthday in October of 2010, six and a half months after his death, my father’s ashes were released from the back of a motorcycle as it cruised over the hills of Eureka Springs, AR. Freedom was won for my dad as his soul soared. 

Happy Father’s Day Dad. I am wearing your shirt. I am thinking about you, remembering so many things. I am grateful to be your daughter. I love you! 

Father's Day Memories

The Mirror of My Uncle’s Heart

My family gathered this morning, and spent the day together, celebrating the life of my uncle, Rex Lauderdale. Brother to my father, Rex was the eldest of six children, born in a relatively short span of years, to Dennis and Grace Lauderdale. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
The family lost the youngest child, Margaret, while she was still a toddler. However, the remaining siblings grew up, married, and had families of their own. Seven years ago this month, my father stepped into eternity, following a battle with cancer. Four years ago, this month, Glenda journeyed to meet her brother and her parents. It was at my aunt’s funeral that my cousins and I came up with a plan.

We decided not to wait for another funeral to gather together. Instead, what if we rejoiced with the living? My Uncle Rex loved the idea. We met at his house that July, to celebrate his birthday and his sisters’ birthdays…and a new tradition was born. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
I am so grateful that we took action and made that desire to gather together a reality. Since that first birthday party we’ve lost five more family members on the Lauderdale side, including the life of the party himself, Uncle Rex. He slipped away last Wednesday, at the age of 83. 

I’ve thought about my uncle so much in the days since I learned of his passing. Dr. Doug Weiss said, “The mirror of a man’s heart is his actions.” How beautifully Uncle Rex’s actions, throughout his life, have reflected his kind and generous heart. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's HeartServing his country in Korea

The Mirror of My Uncle's HeartA cook in the US Army

My childhood memories of my uncle are peppered with his actions…the joy he freely expressed over his family, his infectious laughter, long hours working at the car dealership with his uncle, the kindness he showed to everyone. 

Rex was an affectionate man, generous with his hugs and praise. He cared about people, never met a stranger, saw the good in others. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
I grew up, along with my cousins, and living our own lives, we all saw less of each other, until that day four years ago when we decided to change that. I was delighted to reconnect with my Lauderdale family. Uncle Rex was as I remembered him, and age had not robbed him of his joy. Rather, it had made him more aware of his blessings. 

What his actions reflected to me now was a heart made tender with compassion. He treasured his wife of 60 years, Mary. And he expressed pride in his grown children. While his sense of humor still made us cackle with glee, his tears also flowed freely as he hurt for others, saw the injustices in the world and deeply missed those who had journeyed home. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
What my uncle most mirrored was love. I heard others speak highly of him today…how he enjoyed a good visit, helped others, never forgot a name. After my father’s death, he became a substitute dad to my sisters and me. In his actions, we could see our father and hear the echo of our dad’s laughter. Uncle Rex eased our loss, while at the same time, his resemblance to his brother made the ache of missing our father more keenly felt. 

I am grateful for connection, and celebrations, and the enduring love of family. I am grateful for my uncle’s laughter and his tears, for his simple enjoyment of peach pie, gardening, fishing and the farming life. I am grateful for his hugs and his soft country drawl, inviting me to come back soon for a visit. I am beyond grateful that I accepted those invitations so often. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
My uncle was honored today as we laid his body to rest, with words and tears, with stories and memories, with the playing of taps and the presentation of the US flag to his widow. At his house later, my cousin Michael shared his gratitude as he spoke about his father. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
If there were more people like his dad, he said through his tears, the world would be a better place. I agree. And as his niece, as one who saw the heart of the man, I accept that invitation to make a difference. Each of us carries forward a portion of Uncle Rex’s reflection, held dear in our own hearts. 

May our actions mirror our hearts, as Rex’s did his. In his name, may we offer compassion and joy and tenderness and peace to each other and to the world. May the warmth of his heart ignite a fire within our own to reach out to others and do good, by being who we are, those who were loved and inspired by Rex Lauderdale.

Enjoy your heavenly reunion, Uncle. Hug my dad for me. And know that this July, we your family will still gather to celebrate life, and Aunt June…and you. 

The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart
The Mirror of My Uncle's Heart

God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale

Greg and I journeyed to the small farming community of Minier in Illinois today, to join family members in honoring and celebrating the life of a dear man. Dale Schmidgall was the husband of Greg’s cousin Linda. He is survived by Linda, his six children and one granddaughter, and by his mother, two brothers and two sisters. 

God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale
I am deeply grateful that I saw Dale 18 months ago. He and Linda drove to Arkansas to visit Greg’s dad while he was hospitalized. They stayed for the memorial service, after Dad Moore passed away. It was wonderfully healing to spend time with Dale and the rest of the family, catching up, telling stories, dining together. 

I had not seen Dale in many years. And yet he quietly offered us his strength and wisdom, his humor and perspective, his love and affection. Although the circumstances were sorrowful, I appreciated the opportunity to get reacquainted with him. 

God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale

Today at his service I experienced a sense of shock over his sudden passing and his absence was keenly felt. We were gathered to remember and celebrate him. I knew that. And yet I kept looking for his smiling face among the crowd. How much more so is his family grieving the loss of husband, father and grandfather. Indeed, the whole community is missing this remarkable man. It made me wish I had known him better, and had enjoyed his company more often. 

This is what I do know about Dale…

He was a man of deep faith. I discovered today that he truly was a pillar in his community and church. Dale put deliberate actions with his beliefs. He served through his church, caring for widows, and giving his time and resources to make a difference in the lives of others. Dale made a joyful noise regularly, singing in a quartet. In a touching tribute, the three remaining members of the group sang during Dale’s service. 

God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale
God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale
He was a loving family man, devoted to his wife and their six children and one granddaughter. What a legacy Dale leaves. His three sons each served in the US Marines. His  daughters genuinely care for others. By his example Dale taught his children to keep learning and growing, to walk in faith, to work hard. He loved geography, travel, trivia, history, music and sports. His kids do too. 

It was a joy to watch his family today, unashamed as they shed tender tears for the man who loved them and provided for them. Dale was honored through the telling of their stories and the sharing of memories that were often humorous.  

God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale



God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale

And this man put others at ease. Because he knew who he was and was at ease with himself, he could extend that same grace to others. Dale knew how to relax into the moment and enjoy it fully. He was kind, thoughtful, selfless and joyful. I can’t think about Dale without picturing a wide smile on his face and a glint of mirth in his eyes. 

A video was shared during the service, of Paul Harvey reciting his speech, So God Made a Farmer. The opening lines are, “And on the 8th day God looked down on His planned paradise and said, ‘I need a catetaker’. So God made a farmer.” 

Along with being a long time State Farm supervisor, Dale was a farmer his whole life. He was a caretaker of the earth, his farmlands and the properties of others, mowing yards and tending to the church’s grounds. 

He was a caretaker of souls, loving his wife, nurturing and raising his family, playing with his granddaughter, serving and blessing others in so many ways. 

And he was a caretaker of his own soul, walking in faith with God, enjoying who he was created to be, savoring life. 

God said, “I need a caretaker”.  He made Dale. 

He is loved. He is missed. He is remembered. He is celebrated. We will be caretakers, in his name. 

God Needed a Caretaker So He Made Dale