Dad’s Eulogy
30 March 2008
I have not felt closer to Dad than the last couple months of his life. I don’t find regret in this as much as some sadness in considering the multitude of times when I could have sought this closeness. I am frankly grateful that I was blessed to have had this chance, it was a gift. In the times of silence and the very few words that we exchanged, I had released any inhibitions I may have ever had to be close to him.
I wondered much about what was going through his mind these last couple months. Being hospitalized that first time in January took a toll on him. Whether drug induced or not, he clearly experienced a period of disorientation, then a period of seeming disengagement. It was frankly slightly disconcerting how disconnected he seemed at times. I remember how weak he was in the beginning – little did we know how much weaker he would get. There were also times of startling clarity. He would seem so aware. We would try to speak with each other, but even with hearing aids he was practically deaf so speaking to him was very difficult. I wanted to really communicate with him on a deeper level. I eventually realized that writing my thoughts down for him to read was going to be more effective, and so I did. We all did. Dad would often look around at where he was at, his surroundings, he would examine his bruised hands, the legions on his fingers. I would wonder if he was not sure why they were that way, or that he was becoming aware of how his physical condition was deteriorating. I wondered how he felt on the inside – whether he felt he was diminishing from within, or had he been assuming that he would eventually get better. How does one know if one was going to improve or diminish? I can only presume what he was really feeling, what he was thinking in his last days.
It has been written that the apostle Paul endured tremendous physical hardship in the latter part of his life on earth. Paul was a converted Roman Citizen who after meeting Jesus on the road to Damascus instead of persecuting the early followers of Jesus, was called to be His most ardent missionary. His tireless and passionate pursuit to save in the name of Jesus can’t help but inspire even the “unreligious”, for the zeal in his faith would lead him to places the zealot of today probably couldn’t imagine – all with tremendous love and care for God’s children, his brothers and sisters.
Why is this even relevant? For so many, life is not that different today than in ancient times. We are still brutal, we worship other God’s and violate and kill in “it’s” name, we watch the starving, we hoard our own, we create division and accentuate the differences. Today, we seem to miss the bright spots in our very midst, the one’s that have brought life to the weak, caring to the poor, opportunity and purpose to the down trodden and undeserved – those who have brought people together and not division.
Dad, I believe, was one these people. Perhaps it wasn’t obvious. He cared deeply for his fellow man. He crossed all boundaries of race and religion, geography and economic class. He brought together people from around the world without fanfare. Though the motives that drove him many would not consider noble, the motives were really only a means to something bigger he was doing. No, I don’t even know that he really knew it. But he was driven by some inner conviction of a brighter world.
Like Paul, he was a tireless adventurer, willing and undeterred by obstacles. He silently paved paths that many after him would then exploit. In his stubbornness, he was unmoved in the face of conflict. As a fighter pilot for our country, he learned to be precise, daring, and purposeful. He inspired many in his time - his zeal was infectious for he had a way of inspiring men to believe. He was not about con-forming, he was about re-forming.
Dad was still yet just a man. A man who was as fallible as Paul – as fallible as all of us. He was by far imperfect. He hurt people unsuspectingly. He burdened others. He was often stubborn to a fault. His own pursuits may have been at the expense of others. His actions often didn’t reflect the Jesus he may have learned about when he grew up. He was a “fallen” man – as we all are truly “fallen”. But clearly evident in him were the seeds of goodness which fruits would blossom in others. In him was the goodness that God used to make a difference. His life’s rewards may not have been found in the measures of this world. No, he anguished much in those things he lost, misused, or could not produce. Perhaps if there is any tragedy, it may be in the way he measured his own success – influenced by the dominance of the limited perspective of this world. He may not have seen the legacy of beauty that he left in his wake. His discontentment perhaps came from the seeming lack of “measurable” success, and not fully appreciating the immeasurable success of his life. I trust that he now sees what he brought with him - that success which is timeless and not of this world. The fruits of His success was rooted in humility and a giving heart.
In a letter that the apostle Paul had sent to the church of Ephesus he writes: “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love” (Eph 4:2); and in his letter to the church of Philippi: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit”. Paul’s compassion in the midst of his own suffering reflects Christ love. He considered himself a slave to Jesus in which he means that he was willing to give his life to Jesus, and that Jesus was master over his life. While being tortured Paul could only imagine the love Jesus and how to extend Jesus’ love to everyone.
I don’t really know that Dad considered himself a slave to Jesus. I don’t know that even those of us who feel the love of Jesus deeply can espouse such resolve of purpose. I do know that in all of us, despite our glaring imperfections, is the capacity to leave a legacy of humble servitude and loving kindness through the power of the Holy Spirit. In us, God’s children, is the seed that becomes the bountiful fruit that He will use for His glory and purpose. Dad was a man. In him was the special goodness that God used in ways that we will not be able to measure. We all will have our own stories of what Richard “Dick” Lawrence Renne meant to each of us. For me, Dad was imperfect, but in all his imperfection Dad was an inspiration, the very goodness and humility I hope to model and hope he will be proud of. Thank you for your legacy.
If we could hear Dad right now, he is saying “fear not, for He makes all things new again”!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Richard (Dick) Lawrence Renne
Died March 24, 2008 at age 82. Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1925. Dick was a veteran of World War II and the Korean War as a U.S. Air Force fighter pilot. He attended college at the University of Minnesota, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marco, Peru, and Sophia University in Japan. Dick made his living paving new ground in the computer industry domestically and abroad, and had a passion for startup ventures. Dick had a love for other cultures having spent much of his life living and traveling around the world. Dick had a love for genealogy of the Renne family, writing, and spending time with family and friends. Dick is survived by his wife Elena (Helen) Renne, his children, and grandchildren. Memorial Service and burial will be held at Skylawn Memorial Park in San Mateo, Sunday, March 30, 2008 starting at 11:00am. Visitation will be 30 minutes prior. The family asks that you contribute to the American Heart Association in memory of Richard Lawrence Renne.
Died March 24, 2008 at age 82. Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1925. Dick was a veteran of World War II and the Korean War as a U.S. Air Force fighter pilot. He attended college at the University of Minnesota, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marco, Peru, and Sophia University in Japan. Dick made his living paving new ground in the computer industry domestically and abroad, and had a passion for startup ventures. Dick had a love for other cultures having spent much of his life living and traveling around the world. Dick had a love for genealogy of the Renne family, writing, and spending time with family and friends. Dick is survived by his wife Elena (Helen) Renne, his children, and grandchildren. Memorial Service and burial will be held at Skylawn Memorial Park in San Mateo, Sunday, March 30, 2008 starting at 11:00am. Visitation will be 30 minutes prior. The family asks that you contribute to the American Heart Association in memory of Richard Lawrence Renne.
Friday, May 23, 2008
2/24/08
on my return to Michigan, my home. What a long week. I'm exhausted. But i feel I didn't do anything . . . yet I know that in my heart, a lot went on.
Dad is not looking good. I feel like I'm now witnessing the end of a generation. Never experienced this before and it now offers a sense of temporality. What i mean is that i now feel like I can see what at once seemed forever now compressed into a more comprehensible period of time - a broader sense of the linearlity of time. We all get old and we all are mortal. I will eventual experience the end of my own lifetime.
Mom is struggling with coming to terms with the reality of what it is looking like. Dad may not ever "come home" and function as he had, he will likely not even walk on his own again, feed himself, brush his teeth, go to the bathroom on his own - he may not even live much longer. .What must it be like to see someone you have known for almost 50 yrs. become more or less incompacitated. To start to come to grips that you will now be alone after all this time. Even if he is able to stay alive in this institution for a little longer, mom will be alone. How incredibly sad this realization must be. How incredibly lonely this must begin to feel.
It finally came to me - likely God had me see that we must now enjoy each day, truly as the last. Celebrate each day of life and not mourn what what is to not be. Don't miss out on beauty that is today for the hopes of a yet a better day tomorrow. That day may not ever come.
I have certainly woken up to a whole new realization of a segment of our population - the aged and those reaching the end of their life. How this transition for some can be anything, but a graceful, dignified experience. for some a lonely and torturous affair, and others a diminishment of a quality of life never to be regained, and yet others the feeling like they are now castaways of society. In these men and women i pray that Jesus is comforting them, that they know him and that they can look forward to the end.
So it is this which I may have been sent to my father instead of going to Venezuela. The mission to save can be so close as to be your own family. I really don't know if Dad has yet found Jesus. I really don't know if what I wrote for him to read made any difference, but i did feel God's prompting to write and I pray that God will somehow use my very feable attempt to share the saving grace of Jesus as the seed that He will cultivate. Lord, I pray that you celebrate and take into your arms this child of yours. Comfort him as he finishes his long, often arduous life, full of struggle and pain, and yet always with a desire to do good. Give him the vision of all that was good, all that was sweet, all that was beautiful, all that was dignified, all that was comforting, all that was devine - all that was love. Bless him Lord, for though he may not have walked the straight and narrow, but only through your amazing grace his sins are forgiven that he goes home to you, a life everlasting. Father, I pray that I will be joining him one day in your kingdom with you, and though I know he is not yet with you, through your mercy he is filled with joy when you take him. I pray all this in your son's holy and merciful name . . .
on my return to Michigan, my home. What a long week. I'm exhausted. But i feel I didn't do anything . . . yet I know that in my heart, a lot went on.
Dad is not looking good. I feel like I'm now witnessing the end of a generation. Never experienced this before and it now offers a sense of temporality. What i mean is that i now feel like I can see what at once seemed forever now compressed into a more comprehensible period of time - a broader sense of the linearlity of time. We all get old and we all are mortal. I will eventual experience the end of my own lifetime.
Mom is struggling with coming to terms with the reality of what it is looking like. Dad may not ever "come home" and function as he had, he will likely not even walk on his own again, feed himself, brush his teeth, go to the bathroom on his own - he may not even live much longer. .What must it be like to see someone you have known for almost 50 yrs. become more or less incompacitated. To start to come to grips that you will now be alone after all this time. Even if he is able to stay alive in this institution for a little longer, mom will be alone. How incredibly sad this realization must be. How incredibly lonely this must begin to feel.
It finally came to me - likely God had me see that we must now enjoy each day, truly as the last. Celebrate each day of life and not mourn what what is to not be. Don't miss out on beauty that is today for the hopes of a yet a better day tomorrow. That day may not ever come.
I have certainly woken up to a whole new realization of a segment of our population - the aged and those reaching the end of their life. How this transition for some can be anything, but a graceful, dignified experience. for some a lonely and torturous affair, and others a diminishment of a quality of life never to be regained, and yet others the feeling like they are now castaways of society. In these men and women i pray that Jesus is comforting them, that they know him and that they can look forward to the end.
So it is this which I may have been sent to my father instead of going to Venezuela. The mission to save can be so close as to be your own family. I really don't know if Dad has yet found Jesus. I really don't know if what I wrote for him to read made any difference, but i did feel God's prompting to write and I pray that God will somehow use my very feable attempt to share the saving grace of Jesus as the seed that He will cultivate. Lord, I pray that you celebrate and take into your arms this child of yours. Comfort him as he finishes his long, often arduous life, full of struggle and pain, and yet always with a desire to do good. Give him the vision of all that was good, all that was sweet, all that was beautiful, all that was dignified, all that was comforting, all that was devine - all that was love. Bless him Lord, for though he may not have walked the straight and narrow, but only through your amazing grace his sins are forgiven that he goes home to you, a life everlasting. Father, I pray that I will be joining him one day in your kingdom with you, and though I know he is not yet with you, through your mercy he is filled with joy when you take him. I pray all this in your son's holy and merciful name . . .
2/17/08
arrived in Sacramento. Have my guitar . . . an architect turned Christian guitarist traveling by plane, train, and automobile. A little weird.
It feels like I'm on this weird journey. God, where are you taking me? I thought I was supposed to go to VE and now I'm back in CA, in Sacramento. the land of Arnold Swarzneger, and liberal poilitics. In a train station - actually much better in a Starbucks, next to the train station.
These are places where people come and go, where nobody stays for very long.
I still don't have a good sense where my father "is". It seems as though this journey he is on is the last road of his travels. Tumultuous indeed. Like the story of his life.
I've certainly been greatly sentimental and melancholy. I've been going over segments of my life: the kids when they were younger, the time we lived on Walsh rd., the end of the 20th century in my life ceratinly marks something rather significant - the most significant in fact to date.
I've been lately drawn listening to much speaking on apologetics. I've speculated that I'm wanting be able to communicate a more articulate explanation of "the reason for my faith". I've discovered that apologetics is way more than that. So, in my "ministry" (this is the first time that I can recall such a reference), I find the need for the deeper roots, as if to know the soil in which faith is grounded. I will always express of my faith based on personal experience, and the incredible gift I've received. And that this gift is avialable to all that wishes new life. Life like we were meant to have on this earth and life not of this earth. Yet, it is not all touchy-feely. It is difficult, it IS tumultuous.
I watched a short clip by a guy named Mark Driscoll, a pastor I yet don't know anything about. His call to men as soldiers, as Paul encourages Timothy, that it is a battleground not for us to be winners, but for us to be instruments for the love a Jesus Christ. It is not flower child, all is well with the world, do not offend religion, but warfare of the most crucial kind.
So, it has occured to me that my sudden change in orders from my leader, my one and only master, my Lord, is a mission unfinished, or a mission yet to be done - it is easy to assume it is my father . . . and it could be, but it may besomeone else - or others. In the mean-time I havce certainly wondered if my Lord had also decided that I wasnlt ready for the mission originally planned. that I was going down with my own agenda, my own mission, not his. Was I being impatient, wanting to do what I want to do - worse yet, not be inthe proper place to mission this trip needed to be "missioned"?
I continue to examine what we mean when we say mission. It is certainly meant with only the best of intentions. Yet, it is not a mission as in a task to be accomplished, but a series of actions under devine orders that are part of His larger contimuum of events. We are players in these events. Motivated by the Holy Spirit, our free will maximizes the opportunity for the true expression of love and thus we "act with love".
So why I am I so drawn to other cultures. An Indian couple sits near me and I smile. They seem to be in love with each other, and their broken english tells me that they weren't born here. It reminded me of a movie MaryEllen and I saw about a young Indian couple who emigrated to the U.S. and the challenging cultural adjustments required. SO WHAT? Well, it is this precise understanding of how cultures can be so different that we tend not to understand, but worse care not to understand or appreciate. I'm drawn to the innocence, the bravery, the fortitude, and the desire to be in another's culture. I too am drawn to be in another's culture - for one because it gives me a better persepective of understanding people from different cultures. And we are ALL God's people. We should maybe know each other a little better. Okay, maybe I don;t know what it really is. Maybe because I can identify in the smallest of ways having been born in the Philippines, lived in Japan and had always been around internationals all of my childhood?
I see Paul as the ultimate mission man . . . or friend of man(?) - (reference to a the notion that we should be trying to befriend those that we mission to - not go to with a mission like a cowboy).
And what of church planting? Not now.
arrived in Sacramento. Have my guitar . . . an architect turned Christian guitarist traveling by plane, train, and automobile. A little weird.
It feels like I'm on this weird journey. God, where are you taking me? I thought I was supposed to go to VE and now I'm back in CA, in Sacramento. the land of Arnold Swarzneger, and liberal poilitics. In a train station - actually much better in a Starbucks, next to the train station.
These are places where people come and go, where nobody stays for very long.
I still don't have a good sense where my father "is". It seems as though this journey he is on is the last road of his travels. Tumultuous indeed. Like the story of his life.
I've certainly been greatly sentimental and melancholy. I've been going over segments of my life: the kids when they were younger, the time we lived on Walsh rd., the end of the 20th century in my life ceratinly marks something rather significant - the most significant in fact to date.
I've been lately drawn listening to much speaking on apologetics. I've speculated that I'm wanting be able to communicate a more articulate explanation of "the reason for my faith". I've discovered that apologetics is way more than that. So, in my "ministry" (this is the first time that I can recall such a reference), I find the need for the deeper roots, as if to know the soil in which faith is grounded. I will always express of my faith based on personal experience, and the incredible gift I've received. And that this gift is avialable to all that wishes new life. Life like we were meant to have on this earth and life not of this earth. Yet, it is not all touchy-feely. It is difficult, it IS tumultuous.
I watched a short clip by a guy named Mark Driscoll, a pastor I yet don't know anything about. His call to men as soldiers, as Paul encourages Timothy, that it is a battleground not for us to be winners, but for us to be instruments for the love a Jesus Christ. It is not flower child, all is well with the world, do not offend religion, but warfare of the most crucial kind.
So, it has occured to me that my sudden change in orders from my leader, my one and only master, my Lord, is a mission unfinished, or a mission yet to be done - it is easy to assume it is my father . . . and it could be, but it may besomeone else - or others. In the mean-time I havce certainly wondered if my Lord had also decided that I wasnlt ready for the mission originally planned. that I was going down with my own agenda, my own mission, not his. Was I being impatient, wanting to do what I want to do - worse yet, not be inthe proper place to mission this trip needed to be "missioned"?
I continue to examine what we mean when we say mission. It is certainly meant with only the best of intentions. Yet, it is not a mission as in a task to be accomplished, but a series of actions under devine orders that are part of His larger contimuum of events. We are players in these events. Motivated by the Holy Spirit, our free will maximizes the opportunity for the true expression of love and thus we "act with love".
So why I am I so drawn to other cultures. An Indian couple sits near me and I smile. They seem to be in love with each other, and their broken english tells me that they weren't born here. It reminded me of a movie MaryEllen and I saw about a young Indian couple who emigrated to the U.S. and the challenging cultural adjustments required. SO WHAT? Well, it is this precise understanding of how cultures can be so different that we tend not to understand, but worse care not to understand or appreciate. I'm drawn to the innocence, the bravery, the fortitude, and the desire to be in another's culture. I too am drawn to be in another's culture - for one because it gives me a better persepective of understanding people from different cultures. And we are ALL God's people. We should maybe know each other a little better. Okay, maybe I don;t know what it really is. Maybe because I can identify in the smallest of ways having been born in the Philippines, lived in Japan and had always been around internationals all of my childhood?
I see Paul as the ultimate mission man . . . or friend of man(?) - (reference to a the notion that we should be trying to befriend those that we mission to - not go to with a mission like a cowboy).
And what of church planting? Not now.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Life in Transition
It’s certainly a new place for me. The journey that is life reveals new circumstances all the time. The aging of one’s parents brings to bear the truth of mortality. It is as if it isn’t quite real until it is there in front of you. There, where one has to participate in the little things that we all take for granted – becomes monumental. Does it begin to diminish one’s dignity? When does it become a burden? When does it no longer become worth it?
The faces of the residents all tell stories. Stories of suffering, of glory lost, of life diminished, life in transition, life in waiting of eternity, life already gone. These faces belong to you and I - for all of us, some day.
As I help a nurse’s aide change my father’s diaper, I couldn’t help but wonder how he must be feeling. At the same time wondering how aware, if at all, he was. He was helpless, immobile, and child-like. Or was it me feeling like treating him as a child? Such is the natural progression of the child dependent to the dependent senior. And as I begin to appreciate the reality of this, I enter another stage of growth and the maturation process. Yes, this too is maturation.
I hope for significant recovery. I also know the inevitability of life’s course. With this I expect to learn more about myself and more about Jesus. I learn what it is to care for the helpless, the diminished, the ending of life on earth. Our flesh was never meant to last forever. As we depart the flesh and enter the spirit, we look back on things past. We look around what it is we are leaving. We hopefully are gleeful for where we are going.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
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