I Went to Kansas City on a Friday, By Saturday I Learned a Thing or Two

I just returned yesterday from a trip to Kansas City, Missouri, where we attended a funeral for Lin, my oldest brother Lorin’s wife. It was a somber and reflective trip but also a time to reconnect with family, to laugh, to cry, and to share stories.

Even though years may pass between Walker family gatherings, I do not feel like a stranger. We’re are close, even with, in this case, 1,105.9 miles between us. Everyone at the cottage welcomed our arrival—it also helped that a goofy adolescent photo of me hangs on their “family wall,” which is described in my eldest brother’s blog here: http://walkerswalkabout.wordpress.com/2011/01/17/family-wall/

The room where Lin spent her last days felt peaceful . . . and sacred. Birds continued to fly in to the bird feeder outside the picture window. Lorin was also there and everywhere, comforting each visitor who was in need of comfort. (I also got hugs from my sister Charlotte and nephew Austin . . . two of many who had gone the extra mile to care for Lin as her cancer progressed.)

At the Saturday funeral, as Lin’s life sketch, eulogy, and a letter to her children were read, and musical numbers played, it emphasized to me that each life is a collection of memories and experiences. And when life ends, whatever relationship we have at that point is precisely what we are left with, at least for a time. This added perspective and motivation for me.

It was good to hear the stories; many I had heard before through the family grapevine but a few were new because each speaker had a different perspective and different interactions with Lin.

Her life is an excellent pattern we can use as we add stitching to our lives. In all of my experiences, I can honestly say that Lin was never unkind to me. I can be annoying and at the age that we saw each other the most, I could be truly unbearable. But she never broke.

Back in the day, her young son Austin and I had been running and splashing through the deep gutters of Orem; a system for watering the orchards that used to dominate the landscape there. Of course we were barefoot and eventually Austin’s small foot found a sharp piece of glass. I carried him on my shoulders the blocks back to the house, blood dripping down my t-shirt.

When we arrived home, there was some concern but there was also a calm, and once the injury was deemed not life-threatening, there were smiles. Admittedly, I was and can be annoying, always looking for attention, finding buttons to push. But I never recall hearing an unkind word from Lin. I am impressed with Lin's ability to let boys be boys, to “let him do him own thing.” Unflappable, calm, classy, but more than these, she was kind.

She accepted imperfections and she radiated kindness. I am not always kind… and that gives me something to work on. How we treat the people around us is more important than we realize. The funeral reminded me that we will be remembered for our words and deeds forever—be they kind or otherwise. Did I mention we should be kind? It's really important. That point made I can move on.

What I initially planned to share here is a story that wasn’t told at the funeral but at my mom’s 80th birthday celebration in the Sawtooth mountains where Lin made a dramatic surprise appearance. . . mentioned here in my mom’s blog: http://vwwalker.blogspot.com/2010/08/of-woman-of-courage.html

I had previously solicited stories about my mom (Verna Walker) for the birthday party and Lin predictably responded with a true gem. I feel that I must share it here for anyone who might have not heard it.

A Texas Christmas Story

by Lin Walker

Mom and Dad came to visit us in Texas for Christmas one year.  Micah’s #1 desired gift that year was a pellet gun and that fact got mentioned in the course of conversation with Mom. She seemed a little taken aback at his request but, as it so often goes in households with lots of little kids, the conversation was soon on to something else and we didn’t pursue it.

So on a particularly bitterly cold Christmas Eve, Mom asked if we had gotten Micah’s gift yet.  We said “yes” we had.  She asked where it was and we said we were keeping it in the trunk of the car until after the kids had gone to bed. She looked a little concerned but didn’t say anything.  A while later as the Texas winds howled, she asked very politely if we didn’t think it was a little cold to be keeping Micah’s gift outside. Now what was that all about—never heard of a pellet gun that was picky about its environs!

On further questioning we realized that she thought we had gotten Micah a pelican rather than a pellet gun. To this day, I have this hilarious mental image of a poor bewildered pelican shivering in the trunk of the car!

And the really telling fact is, she knew our family was probably weird enough to buy a pelican!