Grandpa, My Hero

Grandpa, My Hero

Grandpa will always be my hero. I can’t tell you all the reasons why – I can’t. But I will try.

He is someone I want to be: qualities of hard work, children, farm, honesty, love, determination; serving his country at great sacrifice, going to college and entering the ministry with a young family, returning to roots to live and care and work hard and honest for a lifetime.

It is hard to grasp, this hero thing. If I were to say this to him he would have sort of laughed and mumbled something about life and failures…or more likely, if I told him he was my hero he would have responded silently, moving on as soon as he could.

There was a quiet love in this man. I of course never talked to him about marriage and his love for Grandma. But I have a feeling, a sneaking suspicion – a pretty sure conviction – that they loved each other with passion and tenderness. And their love grew and grew, learning to bear faults and failures with grace and truth and kindness. They loved each other with intensity and that love gave them 8 children and so many grandchildren and greats. It was really there, I think – imperceptible almost – this amazing, foundational, real love. He would have been pained at his failings in showing love, but he loved nonetheless. I want to be like him. He will always be a hero to me.

He was a hero from the time I saw him running past the bleachers to play in a stars and stiffs game at MWC. He would have been about 50. He got in there and mixed it up with those young guys and this wide-eyed 5 year-old loved every minute.

He was a hero from the time he let me into the mix of uncles doing Thanksgiving woodcutting. I was eager to help – too eager I am sure – but he let me help and I loved it so much. You just can’t know how much I loved it. I loved my Grandpa – he will always be my hero.

He will always be a hero for the way I used to hear him in the mornings, in and out, doing chores while Grandma fixed breakfast. I would roll over and go back to sleep and when I woke up he was gone, hard at work on some project somewhere.

He will always be my hero for the breakfasts Jane and I had with him and Grandma in later years. So much love and interest, and the timeless habit of reading from a devotional book when we were done eating. That voice will always be in my mind, kind of deep and gentle, going somewhere but not in a hurry, interested in hearing and sharing the things of God. Grandpa will always be my hero because he really worked at this thing of loving God in the midst of all that life demands. He seemed to feel his shortcomings painfully but he always got up and kept going.

And go he did. Who could stop this man? Grandma couldn’t, it seems. Of course, amazing woman that she was, I’m sure she kept him going and…if she wanted him to stop, really wanted him to, I bet he stopped on a dime and did her bidding, with love and gladness.

But…he seemed pretty hard to stop! I always loved and laughed at his determination to work beyond what other folks call retirement. I think he was going on 90 before he really retired. When he visited our home in 2004 I was doing a roof job on the campus where we lived. At 86 or so he insisted on getting up on the roof with me – in dress shoes. He had forgotten his work shoes but he wasn’t going to miss the action. He stood at the peak and just sort of took it in as I worked for awhile. Kind of a mystery going on in those eyes, the insatiable longing to be busy, to get things done, the yearning for and loving of life that makes him a hero to all of us.

Grandpa was a real man, a hero for a thousand reasons. Rugged and sacrificial WWII service, hard work in whatever it took to raise a family, love and determined devotion to God that expressed itself in countless ways, a family heritage that, to me, is rich beyond words.

This is my Grandpa, my hero. I want to be like him, I really do, and I will always count my self incredibly blessed that Glenn Hoerner was my Grandpa.

Happy Birthday, Jane!

Jane is...Happy Years! She is known as Janie by High School friends. Her mother named her Lana Jane. I am blessed to know her as my wife.

For the fun of it on this happy day I am sharing a picture or two of this great gal, lady, mother, friend, profound blessing to so many, not least, happily, ME!

Larry L. Huff

My Dad would be 70 Today

(Nov. 7, 2009)


Today my Dad would be 70. He died in 1993, having just turned 54.

I miss my Dad – so hard to believe he has been gone so long. Today as I hurt for our friend, Tom McCall, who just lost his own Dad, I feel the deep inner pain, the sense of loss that just will not go away. Death is so final, and efforts to write about it always seem futile.

I remember my Dad as one who worked hard and gave his best along the years of life. He and my Mom had seven children, losing their first at the age of 3 months. Dad was a woodsman all of his life, proving the adage that you ‘can take the man out of the woods but you can’t take the woods out of the man’. Even when we lived on the plains of southwest Kansas he did a little bit of tree work. Later, in North Central Kansas, he found a happy niche as a local tree surgeon, felling trees around town on his days off, hauling the firewood home to heat our big house on the edge of town.

Of course Dad’s real job was as a Highway Patrolman and he served Kansans in this capacity for 23 years. I always enjoyed seeing him in uniform and hearing him check in on the radio: “334 Garden City” or “334 Salina” as the case may be. I’ll never forget his early morning return from a tragic wreck in which three had perished. I was up at about 5:00 AM or so and as he came by my room he just held up three fingers, sober and dutiful.

He was 43 at the time, younger than me as I write today. As I pass these years I often wonder, “What were those years like for my Dad? Did he have the same feelings I have now? Who was he really? Can I understand him now that I am passing through life as he did?” Maybe I can. I know this. For years now I’ve found myself asking, “How did Dad handle this?” And I try to answer so I can get a good idea for how I should handle whatever it is. Always I remember a man who loved me and showed it by steady faithfulness. After I moved out and started my own home he really worked to keep channels open. He loved my wife, Jane, and by word and example supported our marriage.

This summer we visited my Dad’s boyhood home in Emily, Minnesota, and spent most of a week with his seven wonderful siblings and their families. Wow! Once again I was reminded of one of my Dad’s best qualities, exhibited so well in the Huff clan of the North. He knew how to love – love in a way that was real; no airs, no ‘delusions of grandeur’ as he liked to say, no mean spiritedness about people. I didn’t always understand this kind of love, being a more emotional type, and in my teenage years I was annoying enough (and beyond “annoying”) to make for some real difficulty. But in it all he was steady and true, living a life of trust and dependence on God. His life and guidance, along with my Mom, of course, took me on a path in which I often encountered the living God. And much to my Dad’s joy, one day I surrendered my life to Jesus and He has made all the difference.

Those are my thoughts today on my Dad’s 70th birthday. I so wish he were still with us. How I would love to talk about life with him, making amends, listening, listening, listening. For now I just want to be more like him, which will be less than he wanted, but as much as I can hope for. And I say that with a happy smile. Larry Huff was a good man and today I gladly honor him as my Dad.

Jane's Mother: A Tribute

Yesterday, a time of memories and reminders….

Memories of a little mother not more than 5′3”, one not well known at all or of great accomplishments in the world’s eyes. She was not one to try to impress with words or deeds. Her life was one of hardships, struggles and pain but her living was one of grit, endurance and great love: Love for her Lord, love for others. Just simple, quiet, unassuming love.

So many things flood my mind as I think of her: a Bible full of verses underlined with dates penciled in, her sweet voice singing throughout the house, hearing her praying long into the night, a guitar that lies cold where once she could play up a storm, her cooking which was enjoyed by so many – all that and so much more.

This dear little mother gave me something far more than material wealth. She helped me to see the deep joy in the small things of life, in the simple everyday giving, loving and serving. She went on to be with Jesus this time last year. How I miss her but I am reminded of how blessed I am to have her as my mother and what an even more wonderful blessing is that I have the joy and privilege of being a mother to two precious boys! What wonderful gifts!

I hope I can be the mother to them that my mom was to me.

Where the Roses Never Fade

Jane’s mother passed away this morning at about 9:00.
She slipped away peacefully, beautifully, as Jane sang to her about roses that never fade.

Mom was a rose — beautiful, enduring, inspiring, fragrant, growing. She made life better for all who knew her.

She knew little more than to serve and to pray and to seek the Lord and His way of truth and wholeness.

Because of that, she was a flower – a rose – that brightened and colored our lives.

The centerpiece on the family table.

That she was and so much more.

And now she is in that land we all long for – a land where roses, and all things, never fade again.

Heaven is sweeter for her passing.

We would so appreciate your prayers for Jane and all of her family during these days.

Mom reading to our son Lawrence.

Where the Roses Never Fade

I am going to a city,
Where the streets with gold are laid;
Where the tree of life is blooming,
And the roses never fade.

Here they bloom but for a season,
Soon their beauty is decayed;
I am going to a city,
Where the roses never fade.

Loved ones gone to be with Jesus,
In their robes of white arrayed;
Now are waiting for my coming,
Where the roses never fade.

Here they bloom but for a season,
Soon their beauty is decayed;
I am going to a city,
Where the roses never fade.

Here they bloom but for a season,
Soon their beauty is decayed;
I am going to a city,
Where the roses never fade.

1. Mary Ellen Huff Says:
   May 12th, 2008 at 12:51 pm e

   I think that’s the first time I’ve seen an older picture of her - Jane looks sooo much like her! What a lovely looking lady.

   I am so sorry for your loss as a family, and especially for Jane. Please give her a big hug for us. I know her Mom was incredibly proud of the wife and Mother Jane is, and the kind of person she is in every way. I am doubly sorry her Mom passed away on Mother’s Day. Even though she knows her Mom is in heaven I’m sure that from now on Mother’s Day will be bitter sweet.

   When is the funeral?

2. Randy Says:
   May 12th, 2008 at 1:08 pm e

   Thank you so much, Mary.
   The funeral is Thursday, May 15.

3. Anita Says:
   May 12th, 2008 at 2:27 pm e

   Please pass on my condolences to Jane and family. I’ve been through this recently and will keep her in my prayers.

4. Steve, Rebecca & Family Says:
   May 17th, 2008 at 1:31 am e

   We are so very sorry for your loss!! We will be remembering you all, Leisa, and the rest of the family to our loving Father!

5. Jane Says:
   May 21st, 2008 at 2:17 pm e

   Dear Family and Friends,
   Thank you so very much for all the cards, flowers, calls and prayers during this time. I am so glad that I got to stay with mother in the hospice section of the hospital - technically it isn’t called that but it is much like one. There are no words to describe our days together…I was given a precious gift of time, service and in some sense, too, releasing mother to Jesus as she took her last breath, knowing that her next breath was in a land beyond our understanding. Heaven will surely be worth it all!
   Love to all,
   Jane

Timesof Life

Jane’s Mom with Lawrence. She has been a great,
loving Grandma and wonderful mother-in-law.

Mom with her own Mother and my Bride on our wedding day.

Early last Tuesday morning we received a call, one of those calls we know will come sooner or later yet we can never seem ready for them. Jane’s mother had suffered a severe stroke and was taken by ambulance to an ER near her home in Indianapolis. Jane left right away for the four hour drive to be with her.

Later Tuesday she was able to see Mom and spend some time with her. The stroke had been devastating, she was not responding, things did not look good. At age 83, having suffered nearly six years with the effects of a previous stroke, the doctors gave the sober news we didn’t want to hear. Mom’s body was beginning to shut down.

Jane and her siblings have been saying good bye. Mom raised eleven children, lost one, loved and worked like a humble champion and will be remembered with a forever love in the heart of each of her children. She will always be with us in memories of her cooking, her prayers, and her gentle, compassionate care.

These are times of life that remind us to consider what matters, hold our loved ones closer, set our hearts more toward heaven.

And these are times of life when we ask for your prayers. The Lord is with the family, sustaining and giving a beautiful and gentle grace. We do ask for your continued prayers as we say goodbye to a mother, a mother-in-law, and Grandma.

1. Jay Says:
   May 2nd, 2008 at 11:26 pm e

   You’ve got ‘em. We love you guys!

2. Dale Says:
   May 3rd, 2008 at 12:27 am e

   Our love to you. God’s grace and peace be yours in full measure.

   Dale and Deb

3. Jason Miller Says:
   May 3rd, 2008 at 12:21 pm e

   Love and prayers from our family to yours.

4. Stephen Says:
   May 4th, 2008 at 10:22 pm e

   Randy, praying for God’s comfort for you and your family (2 Cor. 1:5)

5. Randy Says:
   May 7th, 2008 at 5:48 am e

   Thank you Jay, Dale, Jason and Stephen for you interest and prayers. We have been very aware of God’s comfort and enabling through these days. Jane’s mom is in hospice within the hospital and not expected to be with us much longer. Jane is still there with the family and we are very grateful she can be.
   We appreciate your continued prayers.

6. Chris Says:
   May 9th, 2008 at 12:10 am e

   Hey, we are praying for you and the family… God Bless!

   Chris and Hsin

Ode By Elliot

Well…as some of you know, our first video post was not what we thought it was. Ol’ yours truly techno-genius clicked on the wrong picture. But now it is fixed, I promise!

Thought you might enjoy a bit of the fun we have with a guy like Elliot around. More to come — we can be sure of that!

Take a look here.

( http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=deed367030aadfcfc59b )

Randall Lawrence — My Favorite Eldest Son

No parent can say how dear are their children. But we can try. Randall Lawrence is our first born. Yes his first name is mine as well and I couldn’t be more happy and proud. We call him Lawrence, and that name is for his Grandfather whom he never knew.

Lawrence is our 6,7,8,9,10, 11 year-old and I want to say a few bragging-dad words about him.

Lawrence has always loved drawing and this year he once again won local and state in the WCTU poster contest. (To his delight, the prizes were cash, which he saved.) When he was younger he drew more pictures than one could count: various battles, thousands of little soldier men, even a panorama of the living room. But our favorite was the subject that captivated his mind as early as 3 years old. That was the cross. For some reason he drew crosses — and often he would put Jesus on the cross. Who can know why this captured his imagination, but we wonder if it shouldn’t capture ours as well.

Lawrence loves to play basketball and we’ve played alot of round-the-world, 3-point shoot out and pick up ball with his friends. The other day he got some new ball shoes, so look out! One of our co-workers here calls him "Mr. Basketball". As you might guess, he enjoys the name.

This last year he had the itch to do outdoor work and a neighbor asked him to mow his lawn. He was 10 but we loved his initiative so we said, "OK". I helped him some the first time or two but then it was, "I can do it OK, Dad."

Then we learned we could not use the school lawnmowers. Understandable.

"What if I took some of my savings and bought my own lawnmower, Dad?" What if, indeed. I got out my "father’s easy answer book" and looked for the section on ‘budding tycoons.' We decided to let him buy the lawnmower. This year he added a weed-eater to his arsenal.

We don’t exactly live in the suburbs, so finding lawns is a bit of a trick, but he has two and will get others — there are probably 20-30 houses within a mile or so and he has done some door knockin’. And he does other odd jobs to add to his savings. Best of all, as he earns he is learning the tithe, which is, as we try to teach him, God’s gift to help us remember from whence all gifts come.

Lawrence’s best qualities are his eagerness to work and save, desire to help his Mom (just yesterday: "You work too hard, Mom. I’m going to clean the house this afternoon."), and his gentle, quiet spirit. He has a spiritual openness that we covet and want to cultivate.

Raising kids is a high calling. I’m glad God trusted us with a son like Lawrence and we pray we will make good on that trust.

1. Jenny Says: June 14th, 2007 at 2:12 pm e

   Wow! It makes me really excited to watch our kids grow as I read your blog. The preschool years seem so sweet and fleeting–but what joy to think how fun the “tween” years and teenage years beyond will be, as well. The picture of you and Lawrence building the treehouse is priceless. God’s richest blessings on your wonderful family!

2. Mother Says: June 17th, 2007 at 3:28 am e

   I loved it. Lawrence is off to a good start. Remember your first summer mowing lawns, Randy? I think you were a little older. It was really a nice piece that you wrote about Lawrence. May God bless you as you continue on. You are doing well.

3. Jay Wisler Says: June 22nd, 2007 at 1:14 am e

   You have been blessed. Very touching.

4. Mary Ellen Says: June 22nd, 2007 at 4:33 am e

   He is one great kid, and so is that other one of you with the really cool name! Can’t wait to see all four of you in just a week - our kids are counting the days…literally.

5. Sarah Fry Says: June 22nd, 2007 at 5:23 pm e

   Wow - that picture brings back happy memories! I just found your blog on the hobe sound blog log. I’ll look forward to looking in on your busy lives!

   We’re doing great - we just moved to Indiana so that David can continue studying in Chicago. We miss the south - it was a wonderful 4 years. During packing, I found the wonderful information you had put together for us about the house and the area when we moved to Mississippi. It was such a blessing.

   Trust all is well with you all. I’m anxious to read up and see what’s going on in your world.

   Blessings! Sarah Fry

6. Randy Says: June 26th, 2007 at 11:15 am e

   Thanks everyone for coming by — you can see I’m really burning up the blog world these days! Good to hear from you, Sarah. Glad you all made the move and are doing fine. We loved our years in the south, too, and we loved that Alta Woods neighborhood and that tree house! Hello to David — happy he can continue work up at TEDS. BTW, my sister and her family pastor in Kokomo at the PHC — you probably know them.

The World Should Know My Grandma

The World Should Know My Grandma

Today I received news that my Grandma, a beautiful lady in her mid-80’s, is in the hospital. This makes several times she has been hospitalized over the past 12 months. And while it looks like she will stabilize and go home again, this one is a wake-up for me, reminding me that she will not always be with us.

The world should know my Grandma because everyone needs a Grandma like her. I remember a thousand things, but tops among them is the few summers I went to stay on the farm for a few days. I would have been 8, 9 or 10+ and Uncle Daryle, and maybe Dale, was still home. Daryle was my "lets-play-army" friend, at Grandma’s insistence, and I always had a great time, though he wasn’t always thrilled to play with his kid nephew! Those were also the times I drowned worms while seeking bullheads in the farm pond beyond the barn. And there was the tent that used to be up, and the old spring and the ravine and big hill, followed by another.

There was another pond way off (the farm was only 80 acres but it was HUGE to me.) On the far side was an old stone fence - the real deal: a long, neat, narrow pile of stones harvested from surrounding hills and fashioned years prior. Uncle David and I hunted doves several times near there in 1979-80, and a nearby ravine was the site of my encounter with a beehive a few years before (the bees won — Uncle Dale rescued me).

And so I think about the farm and a few of a thousand happy memories because it was at that Manhattan farm that I first knew Grandma. And you know what was most special about it? Not some great story of extraordinary events. No, instead it was the extraordinary way of everyday living: raising eight children, milking cows, cooking meals, tending a garden, making life happen. Grandma didn’t write about life, though she certainly could have. She lived life, and she made it happen for her family and many others. Here is what it meant to me.

Sleeping on the floor in the living room with what seemed like a dozen other relatives. Sitting at the kitchen table, lined up against the back wall, climbing under and out to freedom as soon as we were done. Sleeping on the ship (my imaginative name for it) - a two-sleeper loft arrangement with drawers that my mom had designed for the boys room. I’ll never forget being delirious with fever while sleeping there one night - wound up at the hospital for the joy of a Penicillin shot.

There was always hearing the radio at 7:00, no 6:00 in the morning while Grandma fixed breakfast. Grandpa was doing chores and soon he was off to feed the family with his carpentry skill and love. We ate breakfast much later.

Being at Grandma’s house meant going through old ball gloves in the closet, hitting the ball over the ditch, climbing into the old tree house, exploring Grandpa’s "salvage yard", playing hide and seek in the barn. It meant, most of all, family stability, family togetherness, family happiness. The world should know my Grandma.

And did I mention that Grandma knew how to cook? What’s more, especially as I got older, she just kept setting it in front of you! I couldn’t tell her no, so I just kept eating! And watching her other work — did she ever stop? There was the garden and sewing and mowing and cleaning and teaching piano and church work and who knows what else. I often remember her working in the garden while I was playing or bugging Daryle or something. Grandma is old school. Grandma is right school. The world should know my Grandma.

Then there was the time in young adulthood when life had gone south for me. Grandma no doubt wondered what to say, but she said the best thing: "These are hard times, Randy, more than we wish you had to go through. Seems like things are going against you. But you’ll make it." The words were something like that, but it is her face and the warmth I remember. She touched me on the arm, smiled, loved me in the tone of her voice. The world needs my Grandma. She knows how to love.
Such was the case a few years later when Grandma met my bride-to-be for the first time. Such initial meetings can be awkward, but not with Grandma. She was all grace and love, welcoming Jane as one of the family. How proud I was for Grandma to meet Jane. How proud I was for Jane to meet my Grandma.

Then there were later years of joining Grandma and Grandpa in their Miltonvale house. Jane and I cherished these times. They were too few. We would join them in their breakfast nook for breakfast after a grand sleepover in one of the three upstairs bedrooms. Grandma would fix the right stuff, the right amount, and we would finish by hearing from Oswald Chambers’ devotional for the day. Precious memories.

Then came an awful day, the day after Thanksgiving, 1993. I had just received word that my Dad had passed away. Impossible, nothing to say, going through the motions. I think Grandma was the first family member I talked to. We were visiting friends in Illinois and I still remember standing in the hallway, listening in the phone as Grandma picked up. She was too wise to say much, but she said what needed to be said: "I suppose there is no way to know what you are feeling right now."

That night we all showed up at Grandma’s house. She and Grandpa made the perfect family haven. We all gathered in and knew the warmth of family in the midst of loss.

The world needs my Grandma. The world should know my Grandma. And I think I know what she’ll say if she reads this. She’ll probably laugh; that cheery, well-earned laugh that has sweetened with the years. Then she might gently remind me that God has blessed me and wants Jane and me to be a blessing. Which is to say, we are supposed to carry on what she has given.

I still say the world should know my Grandma. But since it can’t, Jane and I want to live as she prays we would. And what is that? It is nothing more or less than the prayer we pray for our own children: "Lord, may they want nothing more in this life than to love and obey Jesus."

That is what Grandma wants most of all in her life and in her family. And when we live like that, the world can know my Grandma.

This entry was posted on Monday, December 12th, 2005 at 12:20 pm and is filed under Whatever is Good..., Family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site. Edit this entry.

1. Ron Says:
   December 20th, 2005 at 10:34 pm e Randy,
   I’m not sure if anyone else told you, but that was really good. I know that most of us who were–unfortunately so–less attached to Grandma were really touched by it. A great bit of writing and a masterpiece in it’s own right.
   Ron
   
2. Randy Says:
   December 22nd, 2005 at 1:42 am e Thanks, Ron. I was very grateful to have a part in this way.