The Company of the Connected. A Note From Jan. Jud's Journal Entry Forty-Seven

Monday, December 15

Returned home after an extended weekend in Princeton, NJ, for Matt’s Dad’s memorial service. Dr. David Willis, retired Charles Hodge Professor of Systematic Theology at Princeton Theological Seminary.  But, to most of those gathered, he was David, Dad, husband, brother, uncle, cousin or Grandpa David, the other grandfather to Heather and Matt’s children and to Miles and Laura. The one who, according to Luke and Basil, hurls books from heaven to keep harm far away from his grandchildren, as hoped for Guardian Angel.

It was good to cry with Annie Willis, we two, sharers of a bleak new title widow Annie, brilliant, strong, loving, reconciling presence making grief more bearable for others

It was good to gather in Miller Chapel at Princeton Seminary, to sing familiar hymns, “All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voices, let us sing: Alleluia,alleluia.” Good to hear familiar words read even in King James English from Isaiah 43, “Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.” So good to hear reflections from family and friends. Truth, grace, love, humor.

Good to page through old photos, see life in black and white, color added in recent years Good to wrap generations together for moments of remembering, celebrating and enjoying the company of the connected. Some through DNA, others through shared faith and friendship.

Matt read Gerard Manley Hopkins poem, PIED BEAUTY. Read it thoughtfully and slowly slowly enough to see words form pictures.

“Glory be to God for dappled things- For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal Chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough; And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) with swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise Him.”

It did me good to hear poetry read in church. Good like the Sunday I walked out of Christ Church and discovered a snowman in the courtyard not too far from Saint Francis. At home with God the whimsical,  the mystical

and back at Princeton, the Good Shepherd’s sheep sorrowing, loving, grazing mingling, tending. The gift of the unexpected came when Matt, Liz, Catherine (children of David) stood to sing, as often they did in their musical family. This time asking for support from the gathered “Anybody wish to join us in singing, ‘Lo! How a Rose E’er Blooming’”? Young and old began moving forward as to a sung invitation of “Just As I am.” which is the truth we come one day some way to God as is surprised by LOVE and met by GRACE.

And there, among old and middle aged folks, stood Lily by Matt and Luke near Aunt Liz singing to an audience in heaven and in Miller Chapel. That Rose, “It came a Flower bright, amid the cold of winter, when half-gone was the night … To show God’s love aright She bore to men a Savior, When half gone was the night … True man, yet very God, From sin and death He saves us And lightens every load.” No choir sounded sweeter.

Good to be together. We the “counter, original, spare, strange, fickle, freckled (Who knows how?) Just as we are FAMILY “all creatures of our God and King” “amid the cold of winter” Alleluia!