Friday, November 22, 2013

Meditation for Funeral of Alfred Dikken



I Corinthinians 4 & 5, selected verses
Nov. 22, 2013
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      “So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling… so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord— for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. … For the love of Christ urges us on because we are convinced that one has died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves but for him who died and was raised for them.” I Cor. 4-5 (selected verses)
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    Alfred Dikken had only been in the nursing home in Renville a short while when I walked past his room and recognized the name near his door.  Our church had been praying for Alfred after his son shared that he was very sick and in the hospital.  Since Alfred lived in Willmar, I didn’t expect him to show up at the Renville nursing home. And I was on my way to serve communion to the man next door to Alfred, whose family was gathered and waiting for me. So I stopped only briefly to say hello, introduce myself, and see how he was feeling. 
       I told Alfred I would be back another day.  He said he would like that. Turns out, he was easy to talk to. So over the next few weeks, I sat on his windowsill or on a folding chair beside his bed and got to know him through about a half dozen conversations, his wife Dorothy listening in a recliner nearby. I learned about Alfred’s family and his taste for sweets. I discovered that Alfred and I both liked vanilla ice cream with peach sauce—and that he and my dad were born in the same year.  Sometimes, when the small room was crowded with visitors, Alfred talked with me while I sat at the foot of his bed. But I stopped doing that after one day, when he was especially restless—and almost kicked me off.
          I also enjoyed watching and listening to him talk with his family and friends.  Several times I was there when his cousin Louie came.  Louie and Alfred were boyhood pals, children of our church. They rode Harleys together, and the story goes that Alfred was the one who kept Louie out of trouble.  Louie had a nickname for Alfred—“Crink.”  If Alfred was sleeping when Louie came to visit him at the nursing home, all Louie had to do was lean in real close and say, “Hey, Crink!” And Alfred would wake up and smile. 
           When I asked Alfred why Louie called him “Crink,” he laughed and said he didn’t know.  So I asked Louie. He laughed and said he didn’t know, either.  I think maybe they just didn’t want to tell me.
            On my second visit, Alfred told me how much he loved and missed the people of Renville and Ebenezer church. He said his grandfather Stomberg had been one of the charter members, more than 100 years ago! Dorothy told me later that Alfred had been a Sunday school teacher and an elder on session. 
        Alfred and Dorothy joined another church in the 1980s when they sold the farm and moved to Willmar where Alfred could more easily access the medical care he needed. He had struggled with serious health problems since he was a teen and had rheumatic fever, which damaged his heart.
      In Willmar, Alfred found a variety of jobs—hauling for a candy company, laboring for a poultry company, and working at a tractor museum. At all of these jobs, Dorothy worked alongside him.  She truly was his life partner, as well as his caregiver.  She was the one upon whom he relied. They had been together—in sickness and in health—for 55 years.   
      She was a 21-year-old nurse at Granite Falls hospital when her friend and coworker, Junith, introduced her to Alfred.  Junith was dating Alfred’s cousin Louie. Louie told Dorothy that she shouldn’t be too nice to Alfred. That she shouldn’t agree with “Crink” all the time; Alfred wouldn’t like that.
      Dorothy took Louie’s advice. And 24-year-old Alfred, an aspiring farmer, soon proposed. He used the money from the sale of his wheat crop to buy her an engagement ring. Dorothy said yes and accepted the ring, but couldn’t resist commenting, “Boy, it must have been a small wheat crop.” They married at her church in 1958—4 months after they had met.
         For sure, there wasn’t much money in the beginning. For the first four years of their marriage, they lived in a tiny rented house with no running water.  They had milk because they shared a Guernsey cow with their neighbors across the road, Lawrence and Alice. Alfred and Lawrence bought “Gurney” through an ad in the newspaper. Alfred milked Gurney in the morning; Lawrence milked her at night. Gurney wintered in Alfred’s barn and summered in Lawrence’s pasture.
       It was a simpler life, in some respects, but also a hard life, without many of the comforts and conveniences we enjoy today. But in those early, struggling years, they made some happy memories—stirred when old friends visited Alfred at the Renville nursing home.        
           Alice and Lawrence came to visit one day, and Alfred joyfully proclaimed to a nurse, “I know these people!  We shared a cow!”
         In all our conversations, Alfred never complained of his pain, though I know he was hurting. He only made one request.  He made me promise to make sure that he and Dorothy’s membership would be moved back to Ebenezer church.  He said he felt like he had come home.
          I understood. Still, my faith told me he wasn’t home, yet.  But he was on his way.  That “homey” feeling Alfred experienced was the peace of Christ, a gift from our loving God for all who trust in Him.   Alfred was happy to come to the place he used to call home and see the people he loved, but what gave him real peace was that he was ready to go home and be with the Lord.
     He didn’t lose heart, as the apostle Paul urges the church at Corinth.  Alfred had suffered, but his faith had endured.  He knew that the pain of this world would end—and not follow him into the world to come.
     Friends, this isn’t all there is! There’s more than what we can see.  And what cannot be seen is “eternal.”  
     Paul says the suffering in this life is but a “slight momentary affliction.” And that it is preparing us for “an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.”
       Our outer nature, our physical body, won’t last forever.  Our body is just a “tent.” A “building from God” awaits our imperishable soul—our inner nature—that is being “renewed every day.”
       Like Paul, let us we walk by faith and not by sight.
       And may the love of Christ urge us on.
       For the one who died for all was raised for us—so that we might live for Him!

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