ready, not ready

When I was a little girl, I spent my 7th birthday with my parents and sister as well as three of my favorite people; my Uncle Harvey, my Aunt Sharon and my little butter ball of a baby cousin, Paul.   It was a special birthday because it was the first I would spend in London, Ontario at our house on Hines Crescent.

We had pot roast with potatoes and carrots for dinner and the sweetest sugary pink cherry chip birthday cake.  In the photo of this happy event, we are all dressed up, and it seems like maybe it was a Sunday afternoon.     Do you know what I remember?  We played UNO – and there was laughter.  lots of laughter.  That feeling of “my stomach is going to hurt for days from laughing so much” was common when spending time with Uncle Harv.

Not too many years later, I recall sitting in church with my Uncle Harv and Aunt Sharon.  And something smelled really, really, really bad.  Uncle Harv leaned over to my sister and whispered with a little smirk, “Is that you?”  Giggles tried to sneak out, but we stifled them.  Then we looked down and we realized I had a large hunk of dog poop on my beautiful black patten leather shoe.  Then we did giggle.  But not as much as a few moments later when our pastor read a passage from Psalms with the phrase “dung gate.”  With my shoulders shaking, there was no hope of survival and I had to step out of the sanctuary for a moment.

As a young teenager, I remember returning to London for a visit with family.  My sister and I were having a chat with Uncle Harv about boys – it seems maybe one of us had a broken heart and he was encouraging us with his particular sense of humor.   He said to us, “Just remember girls, there will always be plenty of fish in the sea… (long pause) But then, who really wants to date a fish?”  His timing was always perfect.

Except for now.

It is no laughing matter that my Uncle Harvey left this earth for his heavenly home and I did not get to say goodbye.   Make no mistake about it – Harvey was ready.  Even when he was in the hospital last week recovering from a heart attack, he told everyone who would listen that he was ready, and knew where he was going.    He was prepared because he knew Jesus, and believed the promises from God’s word.

On my part – I was not ready.  I wasn’t ready for him to be absent from our next family gathering, or to not answer the phone when I call.  Not ready to miss his wide grin,  his laugh or one of his big hugs.  nope.   I suppose none of us who knew and loved him are ready for the big void he will leave in our hearts and lives.

It seems maybe there are a few things I can do in his memory.  I can make sure I’m prepared for eternity – and be sure to share Jesus with those who aren’t.  And I can laugh.  Laugh in the good times and the hard times – the levity he enjoyed helped me to cope in some very difficult circumstances.

Love you, Uncle Harv.   We’ll see you in a bit.