Esther Naomi Hines

My grandmother, Esther Naomi Hines, died on December 4th.  She was exactly one month shy of her 92nd birthday.  Yesterday I officiated at her memorial service.  Esther was a wonderful grandmother and I cherish many fond memories of our time together.  Thanks be to God for Esther and all the saints in light!

Proverbs 31:10-29, Luke 1:26-38, 46-55

Memorial Service for Esther Naomi Hines

Delahunt Funeral Home, Loves Park, IL

Katie Hines-Shah

It is good that we can all be here, together today.  In an ideal world perhaps it wouldn’t be funerals that would gather us.  In an ideal world perhaps we would be gathered to celebrate happier occasions.  In an ideal world we be able to be together not here, in icy Illinois, but in the warm summer sun at the farm in Minnesota.  I know that’s what we would have all liked to do to celebrate the life of Esther Naomi Hines, our mother, our grandmother, our great grandmother, and friend, but for all kinds of very good reasons we can’t.  But I know that Esther would understand.  She was a very practical person and she knew how to make do.

Growing up on the hardscrabble farms of Northern Minnesota knowing how to make do was a necessity.  Everyone had to do it.  But what was special about Esther was that she also knew how to have fun at the same time.

Esther had a marvelous sense of humor.  She knew how to tell a funny story and she savored a good joke.  She never told a joke to hurt someone’s feelings.  Once when Grandpa’s pants fell down around his ankles at the ice cream social Grandma said nothing.  Late that night Pam found Grandma sitting at the dining room table, crying she was laughing so hard.  “I had to wait to laugh until he had gone to bed,” she explained. 

Esther’s sense of humor was something that would stay with her.  Even in her later years in the bonds of dementia, she still could be funny. 

The last year that she celebrated Thanksgiving in her own home Joan, Jill, and Tom had done everything possible to make things nice for her.  They set up the house; they made the turkey, the noodles and all the trimmings.  My father told me that his sisters made eleven pies for the assembled party.  Grandma was brought back from the nursing home, she was seated in the place of honor, her daughters fixed her up a nice plate of food.  Everything looked perfect.  But after grace, Esther wasn’t eating.  “Mom,” Joan asked worriedly, “is there anything you need?”

“Well,” said Esther pleasant as pie, “my teeth would be nice.”

Everybody laughed.  That is, of course, the best part of family get togethers.  That is the best part of celebrating the holidays.  The food is good, the stories are important, but the jokes are what hold us together. 

As we prepare to celebrate Christmas in a few weeks, perhaps we ought to be mindful of the importance of humor like Esther’s.  I can hear refrains of Esther’s jokes in the mouth of another poor girl out of a hardscrabble existence.  The Angel Gabriel in the Gospel for today comes to visit young Mary to tell her that she’s going to give birth to Jesus, and what does she say?  Is she profound or wise?  No – she makes a joke.  There’s just one problem, much like Esther’s lack of teeth at Thanksgiving.  “Me have a baby?”  Mary asks,  ”Well it’s going to be hard, because I’m a virgin.”

But this isn’t a problem for God.  God is always taking small things and making them grow. One small mustard seed, two fish and five loaves, a little bit of yeast, become fodder for Jesus’ greatest parables.   One family, one people, one nation, becomes the bearers of God’s promise.  God will use Mary, even in her smallness, and make her great.

I think that this is also a truth about Esther.  Esther knew how to take a small thing and make it great.  She knew how to make something out of nothing.  A little scrap of fabric could be doll clothes, a bulb or a cutting could become a garden, a little bit of shortning and flour could be a piecrust.  And if something went wrong, well, you could, in Grandma’s words, “Just go and bury it in the garden.”

But more that that, she knew how to make even the littlest things into delights.  Little things like baby ducks or an empty matchbox or a plastic biting alligator toy delighted her.  And she taught her children and grandchildren to be delighted by them too. 

I remember once coming to the farm with my sister late after a whole day’s drive.  “Girls,” Grandma said eagerly, “Look behind the stove.”  Behind the stove was a thermos lid.  I looked up at Grandma quizzically.  “Look inside,” she urged.  And when I did I saw there a hummingbird, stunned by a late summer cold snap.  Under her watchful eye, Allison and I fed the little hummingbird, and when, the next day he had recovered enough to zip around the living room, we opened the window and let him go.  It was a wonder to be so close to something so small.  It was always the smallest things that Grandma shared and bloomed largest in my heart.

Tiny shells from Florida.  Clothes for Allison’s toys sewn at midnight.  A ketchup packet sent through the mail to Joan and Tom and Jill to show them what big city life was like.  A china cabinet full of tiny treasures.  Grandma delighted at all these tiny marvels of God’s creation.

The marvelous works of God delighted Mary, so much so that she wrote her hymn of praise, the Magnificat.  We heard today Mary’s vision of God who lifts up the lowly and the humble.  We heard of how God values the seemingly small and simple.  We are reminded that people as overlooked as young virgins or ordinary housewives are the people God uses for God’s work.

In God’s greater vision the work of a wife and mother is praised.  I don’t know that Esther every really knew how important her work was, but we knew.  We knew that the cooking and cleaning and clothing, the gardening and growing were vital.  We knew that her efforts that keep a family running smoothly so that she needn’t fear, as the poet says, even if it snowed, made all the difference.  In this Christmas season, Esther’s work will be remembered.  By my fireplace hangs the stocking she made for Tom.  In our kitchens there will be noodles and pies.  In our gardens raspberries and tiger lilies sleep, dreaming of a spring to come.  We will tell funny stories and share found memories, just as she did with us in years gone by.  In these seemingly small ways Esther’s memory will remain with us.  It will inform and bless future generations, Erin and Lauren, and John and even those who come after them.

Our small service here in Illinois perhaps is not an ideal one, but from it larger hope can grow.  God always uses such small things to bring light and life to a cold and hurting world.  In this Christmas season we remember how Jesus came as a small an insignificant child who would one day grow to be the light of the world and the savior of us all. 

Jesus is the light of the world.  Jesus promises that those who know his light need fear no darkness, not even the darkness of death itself.  Esther knew the love of God and in death she shines eternally.

Until that great day when we join with Esther and all those we love in the light of heaven, let us keep the light of Esther’s life warm in our hearts.  Let us grow the light of her life through our works and deeds so that the little things she taught us might be lights to others.  May our kitchens, our gardens, our stories and especially our jokes be a credit to her life.

Thanks be to God for the life of Esther, our mother, our grandmother, our great grandmother, and friend.

Amen

Promises in the Snow

The first snowfall has finally come – so what better thing to do on a Sunday than celebrates our Swedish heritage?  John and I head for Ebenezer Lutheran Church in Andersonville (a neighborhood of North Chicago) and afterwards to the Julmarkrad at the Swedish American Museum.

Now aside from Swedish Chicago and our first real snowfall, there are two more things you ought to know about Ebenezer and this week in Illinois.  First, Ebenezer is well known in Chicago Lutheran circles for being a church where gay and lesbian people and their families are welcome.  And second, this week in Illinois the legislature voted to allow civil unions of same gendered couples and the governor of Illinois has vowed to sign the bill.

On with the story.

This Sunday at Ebenezer the couple sitting immediately in front of John and me (Matthew and Brian) came forward to have their marriage blessed.  The interim pastor at Ebenezer commented on the civil union law, saying that while it was a step at progress, it wasn’t all the justice we seek.  We blessed Matthew and Brian’s marriage (who cares what the state says!) and the service went on.

On the second Sunday of Advent we hear the words of the Prophet Isaiah.  He speaks in God’s voice promising that a messiah will come, one who will judge with “righteousness.”  Under his reign, Isaiah proclaims that there will be peace. 

But the people are in despair.  They look around and know that the messiah isn’t in their midst yet.  Isaiah tells them not to worry about how things seem now; something new is coming: “A shoot will come our of the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.” 

I thought about Matthew and Brian and how there isn’t justice for them yet.  Civil unions in Illinois do not fix marriage law in our country.  They do not fix Don’t Ask Don’t Tell or stop the bullying of gay teens in schools.  But it is a start – a shoot, a branch, a promise.

At the Swedish American Museum John and I were reminded how the growing of a shoot takes work, and how promise does not come easily.  We looked at exhibits on Swedish immigration to America in the 19^th century.  How people left behind farm and family for a new life.  They took with them noting but their trunks, 20 salted herring per person, and a bag of potatoes.

And when they got to America they did not find streets paved with gold.  They did not find good jobs and warm homes.  Instead they started from nothing, working as domestic servants and common laborers.  Holding on to their faith, they believed in the promise of new life, for themselves and for their children.  They worked to make that promise grow.

Each of us has a stump of some sort in our lives.  A place that seems abandoned by hope, a place where new life seems unlikely to bloom.  The Gospel promise, the promise of Advent, is that God grows life exactly when and where it seems most unlikely – in a Swedish immigrant community in a new land, for gay and lesbian people where justice seems far off, in a manger in Bethlehem in your life and in mine.

This Advent watch for signs of life and work to help them grow.

Thanks be to God!

Snowflakes

As St. Paul says, there are a variety of gifts, some are called to be preachers or teachers, others are gifted in healing or speaking in tongues.  My gift?  Cutting paper.

I discovered my gift back in third grade when my teacher noticed I had a slight lisp and sent me to speech therapy.  For some reason, speech therapy included a craft element.  I remember making thanksgiving turkeys, Christmas ornaments, and, most importantly, snowflakes.  Perhaps crafts were really my therapist’s strong suit, because, as you may well have noticed, I still have my lisp.  But boy can I cut snowflakes. 

I cut snowflakes every Christmas for the windows of our house and for the windows of the farm.  I cut snowflakes and used them as templates for spray painted Christmas cards.  (Note – while red is a perfectly appropriate Christmas color, on a spray-painted Christmas card it tends to look a little Fargo-esk.)  A couple of years ago I cut over 100 snowflakes (and laminated them all on fishing line) to decorate the church.  But I have never made snowflakes for any of the homes Jay and I have lived in.  Pastoring is busy work.

So this year I am making snowflakes for our windows.  It’s a good project that forces me to sit down and take a break from unpacking.

And look – this morning, there was snow!  John says, “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this,” which actually may well be true.  We’re really in Chicago now!

First Day of School

John started school on Monday.

Actually, in the interest of being precise (and what kindergartener is not precise) John started kindergarten “Two months ago in Kensington which is near to Berkeley on the Arlington.” But Jay and I say that it’s not really worth celebrating until we’re not paying for it.   So Monday was a special day, break out the Champaign, John went to public school.

John was a little anxious, understandably so.  But his teacher, Mrs. Poper, was very friendly, and his locker (!) was number 109 – auspiciously the same number as his classroom, a fact which Jay and John noticed right away.

And so, you may wonder, what did John have to tell me about school?  What was he eager to share, after a whole day away?  What deep insight did he have about Montessori vs. traditional teaching models, Chicago vs. Berkeley sensibility, walking to school vs. driving?  “Mama, they have oranges in jello if you want to buy them for lunch.”

Ah well.

I did manage to get out of him that there were laptops for all the children to use “You have to have a password.”  “What’s your password?” “I forgot.”  That there is gym class, “We dribbled balls!” And that there are kids to play with “Sam says I’m his best friend.”  “Did you play with him?”  “No.”

In other words, John was just as forthright about school as he was at home.  I think he’ll make an easy transition.

Thanksgiving

We had a lovely Thanksgiving.  I did a test run of the oven roasting a chicken on Tuesday last week and before I set it in the oven moved the racks (as I would in Berkeley) to accommodate the bird.  I shouldn’t have bothered.  My new giant oven could have fit 6 with ease.  I should have bought a bigger turkey just to take advantage of the space.

And so I made all the traditional feast items.  Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, brussel sprouts with bacon, jello, and, of course, noodles and pie.  Jay’s parents drove in from Pittsburg, PA to join us.  Even though they arrived on Wednesday night after Jay’s mother had had a full day at court, she still made sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie as well as an alternative cranberry sauce to accompany the meal.  I found my pilgrim candleholders and we scattered turkey sparkles courtesy of the Flaths across the table.  We had a fine feast and ran the dishwasher three times.

Now the Hines-Shah family is not one that usually celebrates the day after Thanksgiving by shopping, but the temperature was dropping, and we needed coats.  Laurie Holland, a friend from church who once made the transition from California to Chicago had advised us not to buy coats before getting to the mid-west:  “They don’t have the selection or the heaviness you need here.” So on the day after Thanksgiving we headed downtown to the Watertower Macy’s to buy coats (60% off!)

Needless to say, it was a madhouse.  Grandpa found a bench in the shoe department and just stayed there.  John asked, “Can I have a piece of gum since it’s a holiday, you know mama, Black Friday?”  Jay and I tried on every coat imaginable.  John did his best sales job trying to convince Jay to select a particularly garish plaid coat, “Daddy, look how warm it is.  You would like it.”  Jay resisted, opting for black instead.

We finally immerged with three coats and earmuffs to supplement our hat, mitten, and scarf collection.

The rest of the weekend was mostly spent eating leftovers, watching football games, and setting up Advent and Christmas decorations (no tree yet – we’re waiting for Papa).  Though I sent good beeswax Advent candles with Jay from Berkeley, we can’t find them anywhere.  Blue candles are hard to find, but Whole Foods came through in a pinch.  John’s been watching a lot of football and playing a lot of pretend games is the long hallway.

Our hallway is extremely long. Between the sun room and the kitchen is a vast expanse far enough to require an Internet repeater and an extra phone.  Jay didn’t even hear the commotion when I was setting up Christmas lights and dropped a desk lamp right on my foot.  (RIP desk lamp.)  John loves the space between “goals” or “end zones,” or whatever else his pretend sporting requires.  We set up his Nerf basketball hoop on one of the hallway closet doors and John couldn’t be happier.  Grandpa and Jay got roped into endless hallway games.  Thank goodness we have no downstairs neighbors!

Jay and I did take advantage of willing babysitters and got out for a date night.  We found a tiny Mexican place in Skokie started by one of Anthony Bourdain’s underlings near enough to the movie theater.  The food was good, the service was excellent, and the BYOB policy was a pleasant surprise.  We got to Harry Potter on time, even though Jay had to park some ways away.  Our new coats were put to good use on one of the coldest nights in Chicago since February. 

We are reminded in so many ways how much we have to be thankful for.  Good health, a loving family, a warm house (steam heat!), our church family (both here and in Berkeley), plenty to eat, and, of course, a job for Jay.  And over it all, the faithfulness of God who guides and preserves us through whatever has been and whatever may come.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Home at Last!

I hear that my adoring fans want to know the rest of the story.  Did I make it to Chicago?  Am I trapped somewhere between Bloomington and Evanston in perpetuity?  Rest assured, gentle reader, we are here, settling in to our own apartment and into urban life.

First, let it be said, that Jay did an amazing job of unpacking.  The kitchen was completely unpacked when we got here including the tricky drawers (baking, Tupperware, and candles), the furniture was all in the correct rooms, and all the beds were made.  Even so, with my in-laws coming on Wednesday, there has been plenty for me to do.  Particularly since as soon as we came Jay’s run of work-free weekends was over and he ended up working past midnight both Saturday and Sunday.

On Saturday we ordered a real Chicago-style pizza.  I should have taken a picture, but you probably wouldn’t believe it.  Zachary’s does what it can, but the amount of cheese, butter, and over-all cholesterol levels are WAY OFF.  Needless to say, this was a wonderful, but only sometimes treat. 

Sunday John and I dropped Jay off at the office in the loop and I faced my first Chicago driving dilemma.  Some of you may know that I never actually drove in Chicago when I lived here in graduate school.  This was not because I didn’t have a car.  It was because I didn’t have LICENSE.  Jay taught me how to drive in California.

So here I am in downtown Chicago trying to follow GPS instructions on five-lane, one-way, three-tiered (that’s right, upper, lower, and other?) streets.  By the time John and I got to Lake Shore Drive I was so relieved without thinking I looked at the lake, and (thinking San Francisco Bay) decided to go LEFT for South rather than RIGHT.  “Mama!!” John shouts frantically, “You are going the wrong way!”  A quick loop around Navy Pier (Hello WBEZ!) and we’re back on track, and to church 10 minutes late.

Ah to come to church 10 minutes late – I can hardly even imagine it still.  Given the texts, and the holiday (Christ the King) I think I would have preached on the gatherings nation-wide this week to celebrate the story of one who came to his people, marked as a savior, yet who gave up his life to destroy evil and save them all.  You know who I’m talking about – Harry Potter of course!  Maybe it was good that Pr. Elizabeth Palmer was preaching and not me….

Pr. John Gorder, Augustana’s senior pastor and my mentor, and his wife, Gordeen, invited the Hines-Shahs over for a lunch party.  Invited were all the University of Chicago interns that have served under Pr. Gorder’s supervision over the last 11 years (I was the first).  We ate well and had a great visit.

After lunch John and I went to our first Chicago Target.  In case you are wondering, the only major difference between Bay Area Targets and Chicago Targets is that Chicago Targets carry a lot more sports branded clothing.  This would be the first of many Target runs, as we needed new shower curtains, school supplies, light bulbs, paper towels, etc.

The next day John and I brave the Whole Foods and Jewel grocery stores and, after driving incident-free over 2000 miles, managed to knick BOTH of my side view mirrors getting out of (left) and into (right) our new garage.  Jay says he’s so glad we’re here he doesn’t care if I knock them off completely.  It may be coming in the next couple days.

I also got John enrolled in school.  There were no issues at all, in fact, the secretary volunteered that he could start on Tuesday.  John was elated.  But then, thinking it over, since the Thanksgiving Holiday starts Wednesday, we decided to wait until next week.  I’m sure the disappointment will quickly abate when Grandma and Grandpa get here.

The weather has been very strange.  Yesterday it was 70 degrees, today it was 30 – the coldest it’s been in Chicago since February.  We hardly notice because with steam heat the apartment is positively balmy during the day.  I actually leave the back door open in the kitchen when I’m cooking even with the cold.

We have all our groceries, so I think we’re set for Thanksgiving.  After a little more unpacking, we’ll be ready for company too.  The apartment is very spacious – bigger than our house in Berkeley.  I’m still figuring out how to fill all the kitchen cabinets, what to do with all the closets, and how to furnish our sunroom.  I’m sure in the next few days it will all come together.

Your letters have been arriving (thank you!).  John has been thrilled to have so much mail – we’ve pinned the kids’ drawings up in our kitchen.  It helps to make Chicago feel more like home. 

We miss you and will post pictures soon.

One More Day

We aren’t in Chicago yet.

It isn’t because anything bad has happened. We decided that it would be a shame to get all the way to St. Louis only to have to leave the next morning without seeing anything.  So we decide to plan only on driving as far as Bloomington, IL.  I have an aunt in Bloomington who we'd love to see, and a stop won't delay our trip much.  We'll get to Chicago early Saturday morning.

Thus freed, we can enjoy at least something of the many splendors St. Louis has to offer, and that Gail is eager to show us.

We settle on the St. Louis Zoo.  Now we consider ourselves to be something of Zoo connoisseurs.  We’ve been to the Oakland Zoo, the San Francisco Zoo, the Sacramento Zoo, the Zoo of the Living Desert, the Houston Zoo, the Central Park Zoo, and, of course, the greatest of them all, the San Diego Zoo and Wild Animal Park.  We had heard good things about St. Louis’ Zoo, but we really were amazed with what we saw.

Next to San Diego, these were some of the best and most interesting exhibits we had seen anywhere.  A hippo enclosure, a grizzly bear on display, takins - weird goat like ox things from central Asia to behold.  

We spent a full four and a half hours at the zoo and did not see it all.  Gail was wonderfully game, acting as tour guide and adult conversation keeper.  We are most grateful.

As I pack up John plays wooden trains with Gail, setting up the Canadian railway system (O Canada!) based on a National Geographic Atlas.  

John is reluctant to go (as am I – delicious food, wonderful tours, extra grandparents…) but go we must.  Cliff and Gail escort us to the freeway so we have no more GPS mishaps.

The drive to Bloomington is uneventful, and, at its end, are my Aunt Joan, my Uncle Jerry, my Cousin Chris and his girlfriend Alex.  Jerry has been out fishing and there are fresh fish for dinner.  John is amazed.

He doesn’t realize the half of it, because in the den where John will retire to watch sports there are a good dozen mounted deer heads, all hunted by Jerry and Chris.  Chris, currently studying to be health teacher notes that after watching Food Inc and learning how beef is processed, deer is the only meat he wants to eat.  I can see he has a point.

Joan and I catch up reading old letters and pamphlets found at my grand parents home.  My favorite warns of the evils of alcohol:  Did you know that there are 17 million cars on US city streets?  Can you imagine what would happen is prohibition were not in force now?  It would not be safe to drive on any street or even to walk as a pedestrian.

Only a few more hours left of our drive and we will be back with Jay.  I can hardly wait.