"A Living Legacy" [A Memorial Sermon]
Patty and Dale Walhood at Calaveras House.
A sermon given at the Burial Office and Holy Eucharist for Patty and Dale Walhood [1]
Lessons:
Isaiah 25: 6-9
1 Corinthians 13
John 14:1-3
Psalm 23 (KJV)
It has been said that the world is held together by stories.
And so it is that we are gathered here today because we’ve been part of an ever-expanding story—a love story, really—that whirled around the lives of Patty and Dale Walhood.
And all of us—family and friends alike—were joyfully caught up in their vortex.
We have come to this place, sacred to Patty and Dale, to offer our thanks for gift of their lives, lives so deeply woven into our own
We have come to tell each other stories, stories about Patty and Dale, to share our memories of them with one another.
And yes, we have come to grieve their loss.
How much we would love to have their company during these difficult days that we are now facing.
I was greatly honored that Fr. Martin Elfert, the Rector of this parish, invited me to return to Grace to share a few reflections with you.
And let me assure you, no one could possibly be equal to this task!
That’s why I believe that an essential part of the day is our time following the Eucharist when we will gather across the breezeway in the Parish House to share with each other something of our love for Patty and Dale and to tell stories:
Stories of family life, stories of trips shared and adventures taken, stories of Patty reading to an eager nest of children, stories of engaging in lively discussions around issues of work or politics or simply life, stories of singing together, stories of basking in Dale’s wisdom, and, of course, stories of gathering around tables laden with delicious food and drink.
Friday night stories, Saturday breakfast stories, Sunday church stories, everyday stories.
Stories laced with humor, wit and a little of the latest gossip.
Stories, you see, are as central to understanding the lives of Patty and Dale, as they are to understanding our own, for they were story people and so are we.
By their stories Patty and Dale opened us to a larger world and they helped to weave our world together.
And so we come together on this day to celebrate their lives.
This service is best understood in the life of the church as an Easter service:
A reminder that the love that holds the universe together will not in the end be defeated.
In the extraordinary words of the passage that was just read from the First Letter to the Corinthians there is that simple phrase, “Love never ends.”[2]
That is the basis for hope, as we embrace it within the Christian tradition:
That nothing born of love is ever lost, but remains enduring, forever, in the heart of God.
Patty and Dale lived this love, this hope, through radiant lives of faith. Not the strident faith of a street corner preacher, but a “lived faith”—what it means to be to be “Christ” for others—a faith expressed in simple deeds and small gestures, each powerful signs of that inclusive love of a God who embraces us all without exception.
It is a faith sometimes best experienced in song, and so it is fitting that music plays a special part in this celebration of their lives.
Beginnings
All stories must have beginnings.
And so Patty and Dale’s stories had their roots in the Midwestern farm soil of the United States.
Dale Sherman Walhood was born to Syrus and Clenora Walhood on the 7th of March, 1944, in the little town of Pekin, North Dakota (not too far, I might add from my family’s farm). The population of Pekin today is 80 but I suspect it was a bit larger in the Walhood era there.
It was six days after Dale was born in that same year of 1944, in the State of Nebraska, that Patricia Mae Matthews was born on the 13th of March to Georgie and Grant Matthews in the town of Minatare.
Writer and poet Kathleen Norris in her book, Dakota, gives us a line that speaks to the story of Patty and Dale: “Dakota” [she wrote—and I you think you could add Nebraska as well] – “Dakota, is everywhere, at least in diaspora.”[3]
And the families of Patty and Dale became that part of that great mid western diaspora.
For the Walhood and Matthews families that meant finding their way along the Oregon Trail to a different, and perhaps better, life in the west.
As Dale’s brother Steve tells it, Dale and five of his siblings along with their mother left Pekin so quickly in their ’55 Ford—with a U-Haul attached—that Steve (at the time living and working away from home) only discovered that the family had gone when he came home on a Sunday to discover the house was deserted. He later caught up with the others in Portland.
Life in Portland
Life took its independent course for Patty and for Dale. They each went to school in Oregon. Each married other partners and put down roots in the city.
Into each of their lives beautiful children were born:
Benjamin (who died due to complications from meningitis at age 3) and Mark, born to Dale and his wife Melanie,
and James or "Jimmy" to Patty and her husband, Larry Springer.
Along with the challenges and changes that come with life, these two marriages came to an end.
Eventually Patty and Dale found each other and a new union was formed.
They were married on the 16th of July in 1972 at Centenary Wilbur Methodist Church. The church building, located on SE 9th between Pine and Ash, still stands today although now it is home to three restaurants. Once a much larger place, a decade before their wedding the main sanctuary of the church was destroyed in the infamous Columbus Day storm of 1962.
And Pastor Austin Harper Richardson, who performed their ceremony, had created at Centenary Wilbur around a sometimes rag-tag congregation a dynamic center for social activism in the Portland of the late 60s and early 70s.
This held a special appeal for the young couple.
In time, Megan was born into this new, blended, family.
Patty and Dale never ceased, over all the years, to express the deep love they had for each of their children and were always eager to share with their friends, stories of their children’s accomplishments.
Education and Career
Education was a constant theme in the lives of Patty and Dale Walhood, both as students and later as professional—and revered—educators.
Dale
Dale attended Portland State University as an undergraduate and received his Bachelor of Arts in 1966. While attending PSU he managed to be a math tutor, to coordinate a lecture series, and to become active in Koinonia House, an interdenominational campus ministry that was located on the campus.
Dale went on to work for a number of years just across the Park Blocks from PSU at Oregon’s Division of Continuing Education where he developed a wide range of creative and visionary educational courses and seminars.
Dale returned to Portland State’s classrooms, eventually receiving a Master of Arts in Psychology, a degree that launched him into a career as a child psychologist.
He lived out this vocation across the Columbia River in the Evergreen School District. There his wisdom as a counselor was highly valued and school administrators frequently approached him to help meet the needs of some of the district’s most challenged students.
Over time, Dale became a mentor to others who were interested in this field and he would shepherd them into a career in school counseling.
Dale loved to read and was particularly drawn to nonfiction, becoming a special fan of the writings of Farley Mowat.
Dale loved sailboats and sailing, and, along with members of his family, had fond memories of sailing in the San Juan Islands.
And, of course, as we all know, he thoroughly enjoyed regaling friends and family with his stories.
There was no one I would rather hear tell a story than Dale.
Patty
Patty received her undergraduate degree in in social sciences in 1966 from Oregon State University. A few years later she began a program in education and librarianship that led to a Master of Arts in Teaching (1978). This prepared her to spend her professional life presiding over a world of books, first in the public schools and later, for almost 28 years, at Oregon Episcopal School, where she was librarian for the lower school.
At OES, her talents went beyond the library, for she had a keen sense for the larger vision of an independent school.
She became involved in curriculum mapping and served on the advisory council for several heads of school
Patty simply loved to read, not only children’s literature, but also mystery stories, young adult fiction and much, much more.
She loved looking at houses and she was constantly rearranging the furniture and reinventing her own home.
Along with Dale she had a love of travel and cherished the adventures they shared together.
A Personal Bond
We each have our own cherished personal stories of how our lives intertwined like strands of DNA with the lives of Patty and Dale Walhood.
The House on NE Thompson and 17th
Our family first came to know the Walhoods as neighbors. We lived just up the street from their large family home on the corner of NE Thompson and 17th, just a few blocks north of this sanctuary.
The Walhood home on Thompson was an exceedingly generous space in almost every way.
It was a place of hospitality and welcome.
And the house itself was so large that it had been sliced into two residences.
One result of this, though, was that the kitchen in the Walhood half of the house was exceedingly small, which meant that if you needed to prepare a meal you worked very, very closely alongside others. (Undoubtedly this was good preparation for Megan’s later work inside the Viking Soul Food cart.)
St. Michael and All Angels Church
When it came to religion, Dale was raised a Lutheran and Patty a Methodist. So perhaps not surprisingly, they came to find a home in a church tradition known as a meeting place, The Episcopal Church.
And the parish they chose was St. Michael and All Angels where they became active in the choir.
It was at St. Michael’s that our paths crossed again when we made St. Michael’s our family parish.
And it was at St. Michael’s that I discovered more about their deep commitment to social justice, a commitment that had been nurtured at Centenary Wilbur Church some time earlier.
Oregon Episcopal School
A further connection occurred when our eldest daughter, Kimberly, enrolled in Oregon Episcopal School.
Patty was her lower school librarian.
But far more important was Patty’s offer of one of the coveted seats in the carpool, a carpool presided over by Patty, that left our Irvington neighborhood every morning for OES.
And it was only a few months after our daughter had entered the school, that I received my first call as a newly minted priest to the then Cathedral of St. John the Baptist on the OES campus.
During those years, and later as an OES trustee, I experienced Patty—the professional librarian—in action.
If I was having a particularly difficult day at the Cathedral, I would invariably find my way over to the Lower School Library for solace, just to listen to Patty read a story in her little reading corner to a class of enthralled children.
And speaking of that library, Lou Ann Pickering, longtime chaplain at OES, mentioned to me Patty’s role at the time the Lower School Library was being designed and built.
As Mother Lou Ann describes it, “Patty absolutely understood the individual needs of the kids with whom she worked. She was life affirming and she had fun with them.”
And it was as if Patty had taken a cue from the Gospel chosen for today:
In God’s house there are many rooms, many dwelling places.
She wanted her library to have “many dwelling places” to fit the needs of all of the children, many places where the children could be:
A cozy space—a womb—for the very youngest children, a stage where the older children could “present,” and an upper level for focused computer work.
And Patty was always there for the OES family when it mattered.
During the painful time surrounding the Mt. Hood tragedy of 1986, Lou Ann and Caroline Litzenberger shared with me how Patty, often joined by Dale, was an unfailing source of comfort and strength, an anchor to all in the OES community during those heartbreaking days.
Grace Memorial
It was in 1994 that I arrived here at this great parish as Rector.
By that time Patty and Dale had found their way here to Grace and we shared twenty years together in this place.
I won’t begin to recite the many ways they served at Grace, beyond their faithful role in the choir where they were drawn to Susan Jensen’s inspired leadership.
And I should add that Patty was the first woman ever to serve as Senior Warden—the chief lay leader—of this congregation.
One amazing thing: Although their lives went through many changes, the people who claimed Patty and Dale in one place never let them go if they moved on.
So the circle of those around them just kept getting larger with the years.
Symmetry
In the end their life stories had a poetic symmetry. They came into this world within days of each other, they both were born in the Midwest to families that eventually found their way to Oregon, and their lives concluded within hours of each other, an ending marked by deep love, clear intention, dignity and a remarkable grace.
Essential People
Following their deaths, I tried to capture in my mind and in my heart what it was that made Patty and Dale such an indelible presence in my life and in the lives of others. A word came to mind that I’ve never thought of using before about any other couple, Patty and Dale were “essential people.”
And I knew they were essential not just for me, but for the countless hundreds, if not thousands, of others who knew them.
To say they were “essential” means that they were “indispensable.” You depended upon Patty and Dale being there for you, being present for you when you needed them, without garnish, without qualification and without a whisper of hesitation.
This is a quality I have heard expressed over and over again since their passing.
One person wrote about this:
I took refuge there [with the Walhoods] as a guest.
As a guest that stayed too many nights
when my own mom could not
care for me.
I took refuge in their minds-
no topic was forbad.
I took refuge in their hearts-
no flaw beyond the chastising, suspicious
sideway glances
reinforced with compassion and humor,
to catch you.
These two vessels.
They carved out within themselves
room for all of us.
What all means to me is that I am not willing let go of their presence.
Not now. Not in the days ahead.
And this, I believe, is exactly as it should be.
Let me tell you why.
We have just passed through a time in the Christian year when we remember all the saints and the souls who have gone before us.
Frederick Buechner who conveys theological wisdom with a novelist’s flair reflects in The Sacred Journey on how we remember those who have inspired us, the saints “so called,” in our lives:
“It is beyond a doubt that [those who have inspired us, these personal “saints” of ours] they live still in us.
Memory is more than a looking back to a time that is no longer, it is a looking out into another kind of time altogether where everything that ever was continues not just to be, but to grow and change with the life that is in it still.
. . . it is as if they carry something of us on their way as we assuredly carry something of them on ours.
That is perhaps why to think of them is a matter not only of remembering them as they used to be but of seeing and hearing them as in some sense they are now.
If they had things to say to us then, they have things to say to us now too, nor are they by any means always the things we expect or the same things.”[4]
A Last Conversation
During my last visit with Patty and Dale, just hours before their death, I posed a question to these two masters of storytelling:
I asked Patty first and I asked her what was her favorite book. Her response came quickly. It was Madeline L’ Engle’s classic, A Wrinkle in Time.
It seemed such a poignant choice then, for Patty knew and I knew that ever so soon she herself would be passing through that same “wrinkle in time.”
I then went over to Dale, who was in an adjoining bed, and I asked him if he had a favorite story. Characteristically, his was a life memory.
As he began, he said his story took place during the years he was growing up in Portland. He was with his brothers at Scotty’s Drive-In. Scotty’s, he reminded me, was a favorite Portland hangout at the time, a place to meet others and a place to be seen.
Scotty’s was located at the busiest intersection east of the Willamette—where Sandy Boulevard, East Burnside and 12the Avenue came together.
Known as the ”Home of the Fabulous 49’er,” which meant you could get a 19 cent hamburger along with a milkshake and fries, all for a mere 49 cent investment.
At this point Dale’s memory and attention faded before he could bring his story into focus, but clearly this experience with his brothers at Scotty’s was a very special memory indeed.
But perhaps this ragged ending to Dale’s story raises a larger question.—it’s the question of what do we do with unfinished stories.
There is so much we all would have loved to have shared together with Patty and Dale in the years ahead.
Some of us even made plans.
I believe that we remember them best—especially during these days when so much is unsettled, when so many are afraid, and our nation so deeply divided—
we remember them best as we bring, like they so selflessly did, our own gifts of healing and a spirit of hope to our world.
as we stand with the vulnerable, with all those who might need our support or our protection at this time,
as we work for a more just and compassionate world.
We honor them best, I believe, as we seek to live our lives in the way they lived theirs.
The Legacy List
Here, quite briefly, are ten ways Patty and Dale taught me how to live more fully, and to embrace life with compassion, conviction and joy.
I invite you to create your own list.
1. Gather together, frequently, build community, preferably around a meal.
Patty and Dale showed us what it’s like to practice “magnetic hospitality.”
2. Nurture one another by offering the gift of your presence.
If you ever needed Patty and Dale, they would be there—fully present—for you.
They were always available.
They answered the call, “Here I am.”
3. Stand with the vulnerable, by opening up your heart to them with tenderness and compassion.
As I think about the legacy of Patty and Dale, I’m reminded of words by Father Gregory Boyle, a Jesuit priest who transformed the lives of gang-involved youth in East Los Angeles and wrote Tattoos on the Heart (a book I keep next to my Bible):
“If love is the answer, community is the context, and tenderness is the methodology."
4. Live a life marked by intention, purpose and hope.
This involves engaging in the work of justice and learning to a bearer of light in dark places.
5. Learn to say "yes".
Susan Jensen spoke of Patty and Dale’s great generosity and, most of all, their willingness always to say, “yes.”
How much we cherish those who with grace and an open heart are able to say, “yes,” without hesitation.
6. Be a bearer of practical wisdom.
Claim with Patty and Dale what you have learned in the years you have been given and share your wisdom and insights as a friend and mentor with those who follow after you.
7. Read widely, but also read deeply.
If you stretch your mind, it just might help to stretch your soul.
8. Hold music in your hearts and keep singing through it all.
I thought of Patty and Dale when we learned recently of the death of Leonard Cohen, someone who wrote part of the soundtrack for many of our lives.
During my final visit, the song Dale most wanted us to sing together was Leonard Cohen’s, “Hallelujah.” And we did!
The lyrics are familiar, but I take inspiration from these particular lines:
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah [5]
9. Don’t defer your dreams. Do those things you have long wanted to do.
Before they left us, Dale and Patty followed the threads of ancestry to Norway. This trip led to a vivid experience of the boundless richness of life, new friendships to claim and, especially for Dale, a fresh collection of stories to tell.
10. Finally, speaking of stories, do tell one another your stories—tell one another the sacred stories of your life.
For our stories can be healing. Our stories can hold the world together. Our stories can even help to change the world.
Oh, and as we learned from Dale, when necessary, embellish just a little.
Words of Thanksgiving
Patty and Dale were deeply grateful people and I know they would want me to share their boundless gratitude for all of you. For your presence here today.
And especially for the many gestures of love they received during the difficult final two years of their lives:
For your thoughtfulness, your prayers, your words written and spoken, for those who provided meals and contributed funds, for those who brought communion each Sunday, and for all the caregivers who never failed to go the extra mile.
Beyond all, they were grateful for the gift of your presence with them as family members, as close friends of long or more recent standing, as colleagues and students, as friends of the Walhood children, all who were part of that flow of love and that moved through the Walhood home on Broadway or streamed through Freshwater Cottage in Lincoln City, an endless cascade.
And finally, I must mention the role of the Walhood children. During the anxious months after Dale’s diagnosis, Mark kept us all informed in such a wonderful way and was so faithful and attentive to Dale in the midst of such uncertainty. Jimmy and Megan, and their partners, Gretchen and Jeremy, helped to coordinate food and all the other essentials of life during this very difficult period.
Please know that all of us here hold each one of you in our hearts.
In just a few moments we will be invited to share in a feast, a love feast open to all.
This feast is a reminder of the feasts and festivities we shared with Patty and Dale over all the years, around tables filled with the bounty of the land.
As proclaimed by the prophet Isaiah, in the end there is the feast!
“On this mountain [the prophet proclaims] the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. . . God will swallow up death forever. Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces.”[6]
The End of the Beginning
It seems fitting to close with a brief portion of a story. It was written for children, but beloved by all ages. It’s a story consistent with the faith that Patty and Dale embraced so fully. These were among the last words I shared at Freshwater cottage.
It is a passage that comes at the very end of the last book of C.S. Lewis’s “The Chronicles of Narnia” where an accident has occurred that has taken the lives of the family whose adventures were recounted in the Chronicles. The narrator concludes:
“And as Aslan spoke—[this lion who in the Chronicles was a figure of the Christ]—He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them.
And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after.
But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”[7]
Patty and Dale lived among us with this abiding hope and they have now entered the larger life of God and so . . .
we entrust them on this day to God’s care and keeping, to that Eternal Love that will never let us go.
_______________________________
Endnotes:
[1] This Sermon was given as part of the Burial Office and Eucharist for Patty and Dale Walhood on November 12, 2016, at Grace Memorial Episcopal Church in Portland, Oregon.
[2]1 Corinthians 13:8a
[3] Kathleen Norris, Dakota: A Spiritual Geography. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2001), p. ix.
[4] Frederick Buechner, The Sacred Journey (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1982), pp. 21-22. Italics are mine.
[5] http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/leonardcohen/hallelujah.html
[6] Isaiah 25: 6, 8a
[7] C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1956), pp. 210-211. Italics are mine.
