Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

After him, Ibzan of Bethlehem led Israel. He had thirty sons and thirty daughters. He gave his daughters away in marriage to those outside his clan, and for his sons he brought in thirty young women as wives from outside his clan. Ibzan led Israel seven years. Then Ibzan died and was buried in Bethlehem.
After him, Elon the Zebulunite led Israel ten years. Then Elon died and was buried in Aijalon in the land of Zebulun.
After him, Abdon son of Hillel, from Pirathon, led Israel. He had forty sons and thirty grandsons, who rode on seventy donkeys. He led Israel eight years. Then Abdon son of Hillel died and was buried at Pirathon in Ephraim, in the hill country of the Amalekites.

• Judges 12:8-15

Then they took their bones and buried them under a tamarisk tree at Jabesh, and they fasted seven days.

• 1 Samuel 31:13

He was brought back by horse and was buried with his ancestors in the City of Judah.

• 2 Chronicles 25:28

Ahaz rested with his ancestors and was buried in the city of Jerusalem, but he was not placed in the tombs of the kings of Israel. And Hezekiah his son succeeded him as king.

• 2 Chronicles 28:27

Everyone that I have met who was at the Memorial service, or the graveside service, or the dinner afterwards, has said that it was a lovely service and fitting for someone who was as loved as my wife was.  I thanked them.

But really, I could focus on all the things that were wrong.  My wife and I were supposed to be interred side-by-side in the Columbarium, an above ground mausoleum, of sorts, for cremated remains.  Instead, we will be buried, thus the Bible references to various judges and kings of Israel or Judah who were “buried.”

There were a lot of mishaps, but I like to think of the positive.

The bagpipes, played by my grandson, were fantastic.  He played Highland Cathedral, Going Home, Skye Boat Song, and Amazing Grace.  He had thought of adding Sgt. MacKenzie, but he thought the other four were more recognizable as songs related to burial.  Sgt. MacKenzie, featured in the movie We Were Soldiers, has very visceral lyrics, describing a soldier’s death and how he wanted to be laid down with men who had gone before, but people might not relate to just the tune.

We then had our son get some neurological issues and my sister-in-law’s microphone was turned off.  The Scriptures were beautiful, and the message from the pastor was wonderful, celebrating her life and preaching on the Hope in Christ that we will meet again.

The thing that had no glitches, okay, one on our part, was the burial service.  Our glitch was that I was told that we went to a designated point and parked at the National Cemetery of the Alleghenies.  They would then come at the appropriate time.  But then when I parked at the precise spot, there was a sign saying to call. No phone number, just a phone box.  The phone box was locked, however, at least as far as I could tell or the pastor when he showed up (separated in that without a hearse, the police did not escort us through a series of traffic lights).  Then, the pastor called the cemetery’s office to find out that the keyhole for the lock was also a button that, when pressed, opened the box to reveal the phone, not locked at all.  The guy who showed up had me sign a lot of paperwork, still a few minutes early.

He guided us to our assigned pavilion.  And two female tech sergeants from the Air Force did the ceremony flawlessly.  Saluting the remains and the folded flag.  Then one of the sergeants left to play Taps outside the pavilion (crisp, clear, like it was a recording).  She reentered and they unfurled the casket flag, since there was no casket.  They folded the flag.  Their precision was fantastic without a single word, taking steps forward and backward to maintain a tight fold.

Then the bugler marched away while the other sergeant presented me the flag.  My eyes were wet as they folded the flag, but I predicted when I would lose it.  Halfway through her statement, I started to weep.  The sergeant was firm, and she maintained eye contact until she was done.  She had probably done it many times before.

Oh, what do they say?  It changes in the naming of the branch, but they say, “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Air Force, and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”  But it seemed more words were spoken.

But then, we returned to the church for a dinner, mid-afternoon.  Our son had cooked Semur, an Indonesian chicken stew over coconut rice (using coconut oil in the cooking of the rice).  He had cooked for five before, but now he cooked for about 40-50, which was about the size of the crowd at the dinner, a lot leaving after the service.

But there were three things that made the dinner special.  In cleaning up the house, someone found an old notebook that had lost its cover. The pages were shaped, probably like an animal, a child’s notebook, from the early 60s.  The pages inside spoke of my future wife being sick, and people were trying to cheer her up.  Most of the people that is.  A couple of her younger sisters were not so kind, and they burst into laughter to think they had ever written anything naughty like that.  One sister claimed to be too young to have written it.  The denial was as funny as what she had supposedly written.  And then thinking of the other people who had given words of encouragement: extended family, friends, and her teachers.  Some even added artwork around the edges.

Then I had the usual PowerPoint presentation with about 65 photos from about six-months old until six months ago, at her younger brother’s memorial service.  That garnered the usual questions about where that photo was taken, which girl is your wife, etc.  Someone wanted to see a photo of her mother, and as she asked there were three all near each other.

But then, my son had asked me a couple of days before what we were going to do with my wife’s coffee cup collection, well over one hundred cups, maybe closer to 200.

Then, I think it must have been God making the suggestion.  I told him to clean them at the church scullery (which my granddaughter operated), and I would make a sign:  My Wife’s Coffee Cups (Just a few of them).  She loved her coffee.  And those of us who loved her often gave her coffee cups.  Some of these are from events, some from places we have visited, and some that were simply unique. If you find one that you like, please take it, and you will have a little bit of {my wife} with you.  There are more where these came from.  … a lot more.

I thought of it as a way of reducing the amount that I might have to pack away, but then a guy asked if I was a Wood Badge in the Boy Scouts.  I said my wife and I were, and to make it even more ironic, my wife, he, and I were all in the Eagle patrol or den.

As I walked around the room, everyone who had a cup had a story of why they got that one.  One woman wanted two cups.  One of the high honors in Boy Scouts was about to be bestowed on her grandson and she took a cup that signified that, and she had to keep another one for herself.

We still took forty cups home, but we took home a lot of laughs and a lot of memories.  What started as an idea to remove the packing burden became a blessing from God.  Thus, I can only think God gave me the idea in the first place.

And now for an added blessing, one of my wife’s sisters called the day after I wrote and scheduled this post. She said she had coffee with her sister the day before. The blessings continue.

Soli Deo Gloria.  Only to God be the Glory.