Remembered

Last week Mom and I wrote and submitted obituaries for the Everett and Stanwood papers.  The shortened blurb appeared in the Stanwood paper today. http://www.scnews.com/news/2013-04-16/Obituaries/REV_DALE_E_CARLSON.html 

We're still working on a more detailed version that will appear in the Minot paper, but even that seems so limited.  I decided to write my own and post it here.  

Dad was part of large family.  The first surviving child of Oliver and June.  Dad grew up surrounded by aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents  and soon sisters and brothers who worked and played like Carlsons (and Petersons and Martins).  While I have not met all, or maybe even most, of Dad’s cousins, I feel like I know so many from the stories Dad told about growing up surrounded by so many.

Dad was interested in genealogy and kept extensive records of his and mom’s family and ancestry.  He also enjoyed connecting with distant family and sharing what he was able to find out about the family history with anyone who would listen.

Dad loved growing up on the farm and took advantage of getting on a tractor any chance he could.  When returning to the farm outside of Minot, plowing fields in Frontier, joining in at harvest time in Mayville, or using the riding mower in the yard at home. 

Dad had a love of nature and taught me to keep a pair of binoculars in the car, and to take time to stop and use them, whether to look for birds in Nerstrand, seals at Deception Pass, or gophers at the rest area in Beach.  He was the one who always knew what crop was growing in the fields we passed by, and what animal was on the side of the road.  He would often be the only one to spot a pheasant or a hawk on a long drive across the prairies, and despite our lack of interest, always maintained a curiosity and desire to share the sights.  The field guides to local birds were well worn and Dad enjoyed watching the varieties that came to his many bird feeders, or could be found on a walk around the neighborhood. 

Dad loved a good joke almost as much as he loved a stupid pun.  Word games, crossword puzzles, Sudoku, jumbles, Rook, Hearts, Dutch Blitz, Huggermugger, 5 straight, Balderdash, or just a puzzle, his mind was working and he was usually whistling or singing while concentrating.  He was often the first up and had the newspaper word games done before the coffee was made.  He enjoyed the Sunday comics with Shoe, Wizard of Id, Hagar the Horrible, Tumbleweeds, Herman, Dilbert, and Calvin and Hobbes among the favorites.

Dad was a pastor for most of his life, and would have celebrated 40 years this spring.  He loved his job and even the challenges that come with serving. A couple of years ago he and I went out to breakfast and he was talking about the work he was doing as a chaplain at the nursing home in town and at the hospital in Mt. Vernon (a town not far away) and he was telling me how much he had enjoyed pulpit ministry over the years, but that he was well suited for the chaplain work he was doing at the time, and what a privilege it was for him to talk to people, pray for people, minister to people at a time when they are often looking for answers and receptive to hearing God’s word.  Yes, he was content with the work God gave him to do over his lifetime and while the path was not always what he anticipated, he found joy along the journey. 

Of course, Dad held many other part-time jobs in addition to the pastorate.  He worked in the stockyards in college, was a milkman during seminary, worked in the fields in Frontier, delivered newspapers and delivered packages in Edmonton, drove school bus in Faribault, helped harvest in Mayville, worked as a youth counselor at Elmore Academy while living in Blue Earth, painted houses with friends in Stanwood, and worked as a parking attendant at Lights of Christmas in Warm Beach

Woodworking has long been something Dad has enjoyed.  And while he was admittedly never the most technically skilled, we all own pieces he made with love.   

And Dad loved to sing.  While he could not read music, he had a beautiful voice and truly enjoyed any chance he had to sing. Whether leading songs at church, or singing with choirs for Christmas, or just whistling a tune while replacing the garbage disposal, music was always a part of his day.  His repertoire extended from Charles Wesley to Kenny Rogers.  From long days of listening to radio on the farm, and long stretches of a.m. radio driving “home” to Minot or Glendive, we were always amazed at the songs he knew.  He was truly the best partner for the Entertainment pie in Trivial Pursuit.

And throughout all of Dad’s interests and hobbies, the real love was the people he would meet and the ways he could connect to people through discussions and shared interests.  Whether talking to Hilmar Albrecht in his wood shop, or listening to bird calls with Harald Bliss, or herding sheep with Harlan Erickson, or singing hymns in the onsen with Pastor Miyakawa, Dad loved the connections with people.  In September, when Dad was in the hospital for 8 days, Mom and I would come in each morning and Dad would have a story to tell about the conversation he had with the nurse, or the aide who transported him, or the tech who took the x-ray, or the custodian who came in at sunrise.  He always found a way to connect with everyone.  Usually it was a shared interest in something.  “Sue lived in Jordan, Montana for awhile” “Tom grew up on a farm and he drove an old Oliver kind of like the one we had” “Mary’s granddaughter works in Rochester”  It was a gift the way Dad could draw people out and find a way to connect.

The last few days with Dad were difficult, but a true privilege for me to be able to care for him as he had cared for others.  He asked that I sing “And Can It Be” a few times in that last two weeks, and asked that I send the words to most everyone who wrote or called in the days when he was still talking, and so I think I will end this with that song.  “All four verses” as he requested.

And can it be that I should gain
an int'rest in the Savior's blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me, who Him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me.

He left His Father's throne above,
So free, so infinite His grace;
Emptied Himself of all but love,
And bled for Adam's helpless race;
'Tis mercy all, immense and free
For, O my God, it found out me.

Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me.

Long my imprisoned spirit lay 
Fast bound in sin and nature's night
Thine eye diffused a quick'ning ray,
I woke the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free;
I rose, went forth and followed Thee.

Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me.

No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in Him, is mine!
Alive in Him, my living Head,
And clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach th'eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ alone.

Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me.