Dad's Last Sunday

Yesterday was my dad's last Sunday as pastor of Olive Branch Church in Lakeville, Indiana. I attended as did my brother Steve and his wife Pam, who came up from Fort Wayne. Stu is a pastor in Ohio so he was not able to attend.

I should quickly alter that opening sentence and say it was my parents' last Sunday at the church. If you look up pastoral team in the dictionary, you will find a picture of my mom and dad. They have been a pastoral team for 33 years and have pastored at six different churches.

Now, my dad did not become a pastor right out of college. He didn't immediately go to seminary and go right into the pastorate. For many years, he was a school teacher. He taught in Pennsylvania until we made the move to Lake Havasu City, Arizona where he continued to teach. It wasn't that he didn't want to be a pastor. No, it's just that my mom wasn't too keen on the idea of being a pastor's wife, which can be the front line for any and all "constructive criticism" that lay people like to subtly inflict on the preacher by going through the back door that is the preacher's wife. Plus, she was happy as her job of secretary to the school superintendent. Why give all that up?

But, she eventually saw the light, or got hit by a donkey, or something happened. So, in the summer of 1973, we packed it up and moved to California. Oh yeah, hang 10, off to California. Okay, it was Pixley, California, land of . . . well, not much. We did have a pomegranite tree in our backyard.

Mom and dad spent 10 years as pastor of Pixley United Brethren Church. It was a great 9 years and 11 months. Then, things got ugly. One of the leaders had something stuck in his, uh, mind, that my parents were . . . .well, I'm not sure exactly anymore what the issues were. It was all stupid. Nevertheless, my parents never got the proper sendoff from Pixley. This really hurt them and I'm not sure I truly understood at the time just how much (I was off to college just after they left). But the years in Pixley were very fruitful.

To me, one moment typifies the kind of pastor my dad was and that all pastors should strive for. He was named Lions Club Member of the Year. What does that tell you? Well, it says that my dad was not just a minister holed up in his church. No, he was out there in the community mixing it up with people that may go to church and some that would never come close to one. But the award also showed the kind of respect he generated from these same people. I doubt many pastors receive this kind of award because they don't get that involved in their local community. My dad did, and to me that was a very proud moment. Oh yeah, as a side note, he made sure that when he attended Club gatherings, he always poured his own punch, because he knew it would make someone's day to throw in a little "extra" of something for the local pastor.

From Pixley, they headed to Fountain Hills, Arizona, where they had a very good five years. A good sendoff and everything. They loved being back in Arizona again but now felt the desire to return to the midwest where they started (mom in Ohio and dad in Michigan). It was the summer of 1989 and news came of a stunning tragedy at Olive Branch United Brethren Church in Lakeville, Indiana. The pastor, his wife, and two daughters were brutally murdered in their home on a Saturday. Their bodies discovered Sunday morning by parishoners wondering where they were at. It would take 17 years before the case was finally solved as the eldest son, Jeff was convicted.

So, my parents moved to Lakeville that summer and took over the church. It was a very good fit. They were certainly the best ones to guide the congregation through such a tragedy. They had a good six years before moving to Fort Wayne where they became the pastoral team at Third Street United Brethren Church. This church eventually closed itself one day through a vote by the board and later reopened as Anchor Community Church, which my brother Steve now attends.

After leaving Third Street, my parents were part-time at the United Brethren Church in Convoy, Ohio, a church whose attendance made the one in Pixley look like a mega-church. But, they really enjoyed their time there and eventually turned over the reins to Stu, who is still the part-time pastor there. By the way, after leaving the church in Fort Wayne in 1998, we had a "retirement" party for dad, but that didn't last long.

During this time, Olive Branch Church had a couple different pastors come and go. They were again without a pastor and my mom and dad decided they wanted to go back. Coincidentally, shortly after returning, Jeff Pelley was charged with the murder of his parents and two step-daughters back in 1989. But it would take a while before the case was finally settled.

In what was supposed to be a part-time job pretty much turned full-time. Initially, my parents would drive up from Fort Wayne on the weekends (having bought a house there). But as time went on, they were basically up here most of the time. It was wonderful having them here, especially for our kids. Cameron would go out there usually every other week to spend the day and help grandpa "shoot the blackbirds." Of course, dad also did a lot of work on our house which we appreciated a great deal.

But in 2006, my parents were longing to truly retire and spend some time in their new house in Fort Wayne. Which brings us to July 2, and their last Sunday at Olive Branch. The service wasn't necessarily anything special, just vintage mom and dad. My mom playing the piano and my dad leading the congregation in the singing of several hymns. My mom leading the children in singing a song from a 1970's musical, "I Like the Sound of America." This brought back memories because I was in this musical when we did it in California. It was my first stage role and after performing the musical at the town's annual Harvest Festival, we took it on the road. Okay, we took it to the city of Alpaugh. Not exactly the longest commute.

Anyway, in addition to the children's choir, my mom got out her accordion. There was never any doubt that she would play "Mansion over the Hilltop" and she did. Next, my dad had all the men go on stage to sing. I had a very good guess what song it would be, and sure enough, it was "How Great Thou Art." But, this was done in dad-style. What this means, is that on the last time through the chorus, you hold those notes. "Then sings my soulllllllllllllllllllllllllll . . . . " and then finishing with the flourish, "How great thou arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt, how GREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT................THOUUUUUUUUUUU..........(hit that high note) ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!" I say this with all due respect because no one leads the old time hymns like my dad (and my niece Paula called on him to do the same with "To God be the Glory" at her wedding last week).

Finally, my dad took to the pulpit for his final message. He's never written any books, never gone on the speaking circuit, but doggone it, he's a very good preacher. Speaks it like it is, adds lots of humor, doesn't speak over people's heads, really connects with his audience and displays a lot of passion for what he does. He has served the pulpit well for 33 years and the pulpit will have an empty space now that my dad isn't there to fill it. Next to him all these years was my mom, who supported him every step of the way and was such an intregal part of their success.

After the service, several of us went to Christo's, a wonderful lunchtime buffet in Plymouth. My parents had made reservations for about 20 but it was at least double that number that actually showed up. This was where everyone could say their final goodbyes. Throughout the day, Steve took lots of pictures. He's kind of become the official family photographer and documentarian of family gatherings, which we all appreciate because he does such a great job with it.

After Christo's, we went back to the parsonage for one last post-church analysis where my mom took attendance. She mails out bulletins to those that weren't able to attend. She's done this from the days of the purple ink ditto machine in Pixley to the "advanced" technology of the mimeograph machine, and finally to the computer age. Although, if she had her way, she'd still type up the bulletins on her old reliable IBM Selectric typewriter. As we talked about the day, we were all extremely pleased at how everything turned out. It truly was a good finale for mom and dad and a proper sendoff.

Thus came to an end their pastoral run at six different churches: Pixley, Fountain Hills, Lakeville, Fort Wayne, and Convoy. Wait a minute, that's only five. Well, evidently, there was some very brief stint in the hills of Kentucky or Maryland at a church which I hear was a cross between something you'd see in "Coal Miners Daughter" with a touch of "The Beverly Hillbillies." I believe they were there for a week, maybe two. I have become sketchy on the details of this stint, so I'll need to ask them about this one again.

Meanwhile, my parents will be retired again. We'll see how long it lasts this time.