What's with the plaid?

Sunday is Father's Day so I have been going back through old photo albums looking for pictures of my dad to share on Facebook.  This one of him with a pickle sticking out of his mouth like a tongue is a family favorite.  My dad had a rye sense of humor that I have inherited from him.  One thing I am glad I did not inherit was his love of plaid.  What's up with that?

The plaid made me think about Scottish kilts so I did a little research.  In the mid-19th century Scottish clans or families created a specific plaid or, as they call them, tartan design to identify their family.  Queen Elizabeth’s tartan is Royal Stewart made primarily of red with blue, yellow and black stripes.  Another popular one is Black Watch which is green with black and blue stripes.  New York City also has its own tartan.

We haven't been able to trace the Odum family name back very far so, who knows, maybe it's Scottish?  I do know that Daddy loved the plaid, I mean, tartan.  When he passed away, we saved his plaid shirts and jeans to cut up and make into a quilt and pillows.  There were plenty of them to choose from.  Each one reminded me of him.

When we are part of a family, we want to dress like the family.  The apostle Paul told us our faith in Jesus makes us sons of God and we are to clothe ourselves with Christ.  I may not have my earthly father's passion for plaid but I want to be clothed in Christ like he was.  Now, that I can do!

Thanks, Daddy, for the memories and the example.  You looked good in plaid.

Comforting others

We found out Bill was sick around Easter.  “They don’t know what’s wrong with him.” They said, “They think it’s his heart.” This was the first hint that our long-time friend was sick.  We weren’t worried.  He was strong and young.  Sixty-two is young to us.  Bill went to the best heart hospital in East Tennessee to be checked out.  His heart was fine but he was not.  He was losing the use of his muscles especially his throat and arms.  Around Mother’s Day, he spent a week in the hospital in Knoxville.  Still no diagnosis and the weakness was spreading.  By the time his wife and daughters brought him in desperation to Nashville’s Vanderbilt Medical Center’s emergency room, he could hardly speak or walk.  When we visited him at the ER, he had already lost 25 pounds and was no longer the strong, healthy Bill that we knew.  We went out of town for Memorial Day weekend and were surprised at how much weaker he was when we got back.  He could no longer walk or stand unassisted.  The doctors were closing in on a diagnosis but the prognosis was not good.  By that time, no one needed a doctor’s advice to know that.  The rare protein that was attacking Bill’s muscles was now attacking his heart.  A week later, Bill passed away.  His wife and daughters, who had made every effort to find help for the one they loved, went back to East Tennessee without him.

 

Jerry and I were stunned and saddened by Bill’s death.  We feel fortunate to have been able to spend some time with Bill during his last week.  We feel honored that we were able to share some comfort with his family during that painful time.  We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.  We offered our spare bedroom to Bill’s youngest daughter and her husband and they spent three nights with us.  One morning as her husband was sitting in our kitchen before heading out to the hospital, he noticed the scripture that is hand-painted on the wall.  It reads, “Cheerfully share your home with those who need a meal or a place to stay.”  (1 Peter 4:9)  He said, “Considering I am sleeping in your guest room, I guess you really do that.”  The odd thing was that we had planned to paint over that wall when we had painted the hallway about two months ago.  On two separate painting days we had forgotten to paint that wall and we still plan to paint it when we get around to painting the living room.  I am rethinking that decision.

 
Being able to comfort a friend when someone they love is dying is a powerful thing.  There is probably no other time in a family’s life that is more important than perhaps at the birth of a child.  We know that life brings tragedy and troubles.  The longer I live the more I realize that there is no way to prevent times of pain and hardship; but with age comes wisdom to know how to get through those times with the help of God and good friends.  During a serious illness a few years ago, a friend from church brought me a cup of coffee every day because he knew the hospital coffee was not good.  I did not know the young guy well, but he went out of his way to comfort me with a simple cup of coffee.  Having been comforted by others, I am encouraged to repay the debt by being available when others need me to supply their comfort.  To me, it is more than a scripture painted on the wall, it is a lifestyle.