[Scanned from The Forum of Fargo-Moorhead’s Sunday paper, 12-27-09]
Today, I sang with a group of musicians at the funeral services of a man I came to know best through my friend Laura. Though Boyd Christenson has been a household name in Fargo for years due to his memorable career in television and radio broadcasting, I didn’t know “that Boyd,” having grown up outside the area. I first met Boyd around 1996 at the library in Moorhead, where I’d gone one afternoon to look for some children’s books for my young son. Boyd came up to us and started talking to my child and me as if we were the last two people on earth. Several years later, I was privileged to get to know him again as Laura’s father, especially in the months just before her death when he lovingly helped usher his oldest child into the next world. What heartache for a parent, and yet I watched him and Laura’s mother, Marlene, do this with such grace that I couldn’t help, as a parent myself, to be profoundly moved by what I witnessed.
In the last six years, Boyd suffered, and his family with him as they endured the effects of his Alzheimer’s disease; an affliction that seems especially insidious when it ravishes the mind of one with such a sharp intellect, when it targets one with an eternal yearning to make connections and love completely.
On Sunday, I was thinking about Boyd and his family while our new priest gave a homily about family based on the readings from Luke 2:39-52. These particular passages recount how Jesus, at age 12, disappeared for a few days in Jerusalem, where his family had gone to take part in the Feast of the Passover. After a three-day search, they finally found him in the temple courts among the teachers, listening and asking questions. When Mary questioned Jesus over why he had disobeyed, expressing her and Joseph’s anxious feelings over having lost him, Jesus answered, “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” They were perplexed by his response. They didn’t understand.
Father D. talked to us about Jesus’ having grasped that he belonged to two families: his earthly family with Mary and Joseph, and his spiritual family with God and all the saints. Our earthly families can offer some of the most precious blessings we’ll experience on earth, he said, but our most important family is not the one we have here but that which awaits us on the other side of the veil.
Perplexing, is it not? But no more difficult to grasp than what Mary and Joseph grappled to understand when Jesus said to them, “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”
It’s as if Boyd has been saying this same thing these last couple years. “Don’t you know I have to be in my Father’s house?” And over the last week as I’ve watched Boyd’s family respond to his impending death, I’ve come to better understand more deeply the purpose of our earthly families and how we’re meant to live out our lives with our loved ones. We are in these earthly circles primarily to learn to love, imperfectly so, I might add, so that we might do so more perfectly in the life and family that is to follow.
But never was the concept of the earthly/spiritual family so poignant to me as when I received an update email message from Boyd’s daughter Mona just hours before his death on Tuesday. She’s graciously agreed to allow me to share an excerpt of that message describing how the family spent its last hours with Boyd – husband, father, grandfather:
My father was relatively stable yesterday morning and we were longing for more privacy, space, and the comfort of familiar surroundings, so we made the decision to bring him home to die, an action for which we will all be eternally grateful. He’s in a hospital bed in front of the fireplace in the spacious, bright family room. We have formed a cocoon around him, snuggling with him in the bed, sleeping on and off on nearby chairs and sofas, candles burning, wine flowing, his favorite jazz tunes adding to a soundscape of rich conversation and storytelling, anguished weeping, and joyful laughter. Dear friends are coming by with substantial offerings of food, holiday treats, strength, and warm embraces. With the help of a few simple medications and other comfort measures to ease pain, agitation, and difficulty breathing, he is incredibly calm and peaceful. After what we thought was his last breath early this morning, I observed, “We all know that the love awaiting him on the other side is beyond our wildest imaginings, but what’s going on in this room has got to make it awfully hard for him to leave.” However, it is highly likely that on this, the shortest day of the year, he will make what has to be the very short journey into the arms of his daughter Laura and others who are preparing a place for him.
I have no doubt that you all are ardently holding us in your thoughts and prayers, and we are feeling completely sustained and inspired by the strength of your spiritual support. I am most grateful for the texts, emails, and phone calls that have seemed to come at the most opportune moments. And allow me to make one very sincere declaration: It is not a horrible, grim state of affairs that my father is dying the week of Christmas. Quite the opposite, in fact. Never has the Light and Love of the Incarnation been more real and palpable than at this very moment. The gift of the Christ Child this year will be the relief of my father’s suffering and the intense love that is permeating every aspect of this sacred experience. We feel so blessed, so fortunate. We rejoice!
What a beautiful account, a hopeful message of love, even in the midst of suffering and sadness! It is so very obvious to me, through Mona’s eloquent words, that the spirit really does live on. This truth also became apparent at the burial today when the coffin refused to go down easily. After too many moments of awkward quiet, Mona broke the silence, declaring that her father had inspired the last laugh as usual. Yes indeed, Boyd, you are still with us!
But the spirit lives on only insofar as it fulfills its purpose to help us move onward, to lure us toward that shining place that we all will experience someday if we aspire toward the light. The more fervently we move toward it in this life, the more naturally we’ll be drawn toward it when our own time on this earth comes to a halt.
As Boyd’s children and grandchildren have noted, his eroded memory has been fully restored now. He’s more able than ever to do the most important work of a father — to guide his family to heaven.
Those of us who remain are here for a reason. We haven’t learned the lessons we are meant to learn, have not yet done the work we’ve been called here to do. There’s still time. Boyd has reminded me that living to the fullest while we can is the only way to go, and seeing God in everyone we meet, especially the most vulnerable and weak among us, is not an impossible endeavor. What a beautiful reminder as 2009 comes to a close. It’s time to roll up our sleeves and fulfill our purpose!
What are the lessons you’ve learned from those dear ones who have passed on in 2009?
Thank you for this. Mona is one of my dearest friends, and yet, living in Nashville and having only known her well for about five years, I never had the opportunity meet Boyd — only Marlene. Our family was on the way to Fargo Saturday when our daughter spiked a high fever and we had to return home. Heartbroken that we could not be there to wrap Mona and the family in our arms, but your description helps fill in some of the gaps. Know that the Barz family returns to a cocoon of love and support here in Nashville, and we know that Marlene has such love and support there in Fargo. This is a family who live and love deeply, and their approach to death is as spiritual and loving as their approach to living.
Amanda, you are very fortunate indeed to call Mona your friend, and she is fortunate to have a friend who would attempt traveling from Nashville to North Dakota in the wintertime for the sole purpose of offering your embrace during a time of grieving. I came to know Mona in the months she spent with us waiting with Laura to be called to her eternal home. Mona became a precious part of our circle of faith friends and I will always cherish having had that precious time with her. I am thrilled to know she has such wonderful friendships in Nashville. God is good, indeed! Also, I love what you said here: “This is a family who live and love deeply, and their approach to death is as spiritual and loving as their approach to living.” Right you are, and so succinctly stated. Thank you, Amanda!
I hear the message of “seeing God in everyone we meet” throughout your post. We especially see God in those we love. We lost our brother-in-law this year to a motorcycle accident, leaving behind a wife and three young children. Brad taught us to enjoy every moment and to laugh as often as possible. Miss you Brad!
Jennifer, I’ll keep Brad and family in my prayers. Thanks for sharing him with us. Those we’ve lost are our guiding lights, but that doesn’t mean we won’t miss them fiercely from time to time. By the way, I love your blog title. It is very visual and meaningful.
I’m sorry you’ve lost another dear friend, Roxane, yet your post is a lovely tribute. I have been fortunate this year not to lose anyone dear to me, and for that I am truly thankful.
On a positive note, I have another award for you at my blog. 🙂
It sounds like it was a great way to go. How wonderful that he was able to come home and be surrounded by people who loved him.
From my cousin who died in November I learned that I need to seize the day. We don’t know how much time we have on earth, and I want to LIVE well while I’m here.
Natalie, our loved ones who go before us give us so much; namely, hope, along with the realization that nothing of this life lasts, or is supposed to last, forever…except love. That is the one thing we can count on remaining when all else has fallen away.
I lost my dear brother in November, at the age of 39. What have I learned? Memories are vital. He made plenty, we shared them and laughed at all the “Do you remember when we…”
I’ve learned each day is a gift with our loved ones, whether friend or family. Don’t waste a moment of it.
I’ve learned that our loving Father is near to those dying and gives them comfort to ease their fears and passing.
I’ve learned the value of family being there, even when you don’t think they are aware, cocooning them in love and support. You’d be surprised at what my brother took in and when he surfaced, he would comment on something said an hour before.
I’ve learned death hurts us, the living. We’re left with the hole and the grief. Our loved one is safe in God’s memory and hands.
I’ve learned never let anger or hurt step between you and those you love. There may not be a tomorrow to ‘make-up’. Don’t waste the time.
Lovely post, Roxane!
Sia, thanks for the reminder of your dear brother. The friend I mentioned here, Laura, was 39 when she passed on. Too young for us, but not too young to teach us so very much. Thank you for your reflections! I appreciate your words so much…
Beautiful Rox thanks. I’m with Natalie, sounds like a beautiful way to go. But no surprise given what a beautiful family he was. Which is in part due to Boyd himself. The Patriarch must have felt such love and gratitude in his heart to be surrounded by his loving family and now to be watching over them. I wish we could have said goodbye to my Dad just a few months ago. The holidays were difficult at times, the heartache of missing him at this time of the year that he loved so very much. His favorite song of all songs, not just holiday songs, was Silent Night, so when I first heard it during Christmas Eve mass, it was hard to recover. But then I need only glance up at the wonderful friends smiles singing mere feet away from the front pew where we sat to know that Love carrys on and he’s not very far away at all, nor is Boyd. And that’s one of the greatest lessons to have learned this year.
Roxane, you have such a big and wise heart. God has blessed you with great compassion. Thank you for sharing this meaningful reflection.
I only know Boyd from the larger than life Television/Radio personality he was.. how wonderful that he was able to come home to be surrounded by his family before he went home for good.
Powerful blog today..you said it well!
I lost a number of good friends this year..sadly I cannot be sure that they made the heavenly journey until I make mine. I did what I could to share my faith..how do we know when we have tried and prayed enough? I know I tried my best..a fine line sometimes between too much and not enough. Thanks Roxane you are always an inspiration:)
that was a lovely and moving tribute. mona is a local friend of mine (as is amanda above) but i have so few opportunities to express to either of them how much they mean to me. your post has inspired me to change that this year.
Roxane, I am speechless. As tears roll down my face, all I can think about is “The Lord’s House”. How beautiful. I had no idea that your dear friend Laura was Boyd’s daughter. I can’t wait to discuss more of this with you in person. At this rate, we’re going to need to make sure we have a lot of time!
Rowena, I have so enjoyed hearing from Mona’s friends. Thanks for stopping by. And Marie, indeed, we have so many topics to discuss. I look forward to it. Far Side, enjoyed your perspective from outside F-M, and Jill, always good to hear from you as well friend. I am still humming the tune from Boyd’s prayer service, “Oh Happy Day.”
Mona is a friend from my son’s school. She is an amazing woman and seems to always have such a hugh capacity to give love. I was so sad to hear of her father’s passing, as I read your tribute and her words I couldn’t see for the tears of blessings they gave. It must be such a tremendous illness to face and what a beautiful way to celebrate his life and love as to bath him in that familiar space. I can’t imagine a more beautiful way to let go of such a love in your life. What a joyous way to celebrate the wonderful life Boyd lived. Blessings and peace to you in this new year of our Lord 2010. Michelle
Roxane.
Awesome blogging as always!
I am very understanding when someone passes away, whether that person is someone you know or is just a human being. I read a little bit about Christensen and he’s been a community-ingrained person for a long time. His life makes me recall the one of Iranian American journalist Saberi,another outstanding hero.
Truth is, death is something sad, but God has set us with a purpose to fulfill.