Not One of the Crowd

 

Harry Dowdy joined the church in Shrewsbury when he was in his eighties.  He showed up with his wife, his love Beezie, and told me after that first visit that he was a refugee from the nearby big church where he couldn’t stand the theology being preached anymore and I had nailed it, for him. 

Being a sheep stealer was never on my agenda.  The probability being that if they were difficult to please in church A, they probably would have a hard time in church B.  I thanked him for his review and warned him that he should hang around a while before making any decisions about transferring.  He smiled into my eyes.  I don’t know if that makes any sense to you, but that’s what he did.  It’s rare.  He nodded and I felt that something had just happened.  He and his wife were in the next new members’ class.

Harry was a great guy.  I relaxed around him.  He had me out to his house about once a month for lunch, he’d cook.  Nothing fancy, but the conversation was amazing.  We played golf now and then, nine holes.  He’d choose the nine he wanted to play.  With him I didn’t get better scores but I had a great time.  My shots tended to go longer, that included over the green.  He told me I’d be a good golfer if I could curb my enthusiasm.  He wasn’t sure if that was worth a better score.

He loved Beezie.  She died a couple of years into our relationship but was limited physically and cognitively before that.  There was no doubt in his mind that she was a gift given by God to him that he didn’t deserve.  It helped him understand Grace.  One of the women’s circles, fellowship groups, did a reception after her funeral.  He gave them a substantial gift.  They told him they had made Beezie an honorary member of the circle, so he came to their meeting and joined the circle.  I don’t think he was looking for a date.

He gave me a book he liked, Daily Dose of Knowledge, Brilliant Thoughts.  It’s 365 quotes from everybody anybody can think of, covering just about anything anybody can think of.  I’ve used it ever since.  It’s one of those books that you start looking something up and end reading 20 pages.  The book reminds me of Harry.  Our conversations always went beyond any initial issue.

I found a quote from Harry’s book that I used in today’s sermon.  Edith Sitwell said, “I am patient with stupidity, but not with those who are proud of it.”  It spoke in harmony with the scriptures from which I was preaching, and it spoke articulately to so much that is going on in this day and age, and it reminded me of a single human being who never even considered being insignificant, or being proud of prejudice of any flavor.

Harry refused to be stupid.  He paid attention to every day, considering its issues and those who spoke to them as vital input for the banquet of every day.  Its courses were compassion, humility, and self-giving love.  His spirit thrived on the diet.

He died in 2015.  He wanted a funeral that was in harmony with Beezie’s.  I use the bulletin of the service as a book mark for the book of Brilliant Thoughts.  There are three pictures included, Harry and Beezie dancing the jitterbug on the front cover, in the center, a family mob with the two of them sitting at the front, the mob was their fault after all, and on the back cover was the two of them, holding hands walking away down a beach. 

I miss Harry, as I miss so many with whom I have had the privilege of sharing parts of the journey.  But he is here with me, smiling into my eyes.