I have been extremely fortunate in life to have known some terrific folks. These people come and go in and out of our lives and leave lasting impressions. These impressions I have carried with me. And I try my very best to learn what I can from every one of them that I meet. Today, we took a little time off work to help celebrate the life of one of those folks.
As I sat in the pew and listened to the comments, I noticed something. This man was a father of three daughters. But it quickly became obvious that he was also a role model for a countless number of young men. Young men who stood up, in his honor, and spoke about the difference he made in their lives.
And then I looked at my two boys sitting beside me -- both of them a little sad, maybe even a little bored, and definately hot -- but sitting quietly in their Secret Service suits. They were in their own little way honoring a neighbor who taught them how to shoot an acorn over the roof of the house with a slingshot. A neighbor who made them clean up a dirt pile mess that they made in the middle of the street. A neighbor who allowed them to ride their bikes in his driveway. A neighbor who gave them rides on the parade of farm equipment that graced our little corner of the world. And a neighbor who, just last week, ordered a tomato from their very first stab at gardening. A neighbor who was in their lives and who felt like much more than "just a neighbor."
My boys will remember this man. They will remember that he was kind. They will remember that he had expectations for their behavior. They will remember that he liked to laugh. They will remember that in his company, they felt important.
I hate to start my blog on such a somber note. But when I think about lives well lived, this man comes immediately to mind. Our little family unit will miss our neighbor. We will remember him fondly. And we will smile. And you can bet that his wife will receive the very best, and very first, good tomato that we get from our new garden patch.
