Jonathan's service in Leavenworth

It is hard, now, to describe what last Saturday was like. A mere week has pruned my memories of it, so that I feel strangely anxious that I will start losing the vividness of my memories of Jonathan, too. One shocking thing I have come to realize in this process is that it has been a long time since I stopped to remember the young boy Jonathan, or the teenaged Jonathan. He was the 30-something Jonathan, and present reality has a way of trumping our mind's eye. Now I see him at all ages, and at all times.

Mom (Marianne) said, very perceptively, that she has said goodbye to many Jonathans: the Jonathan who lisped, and couldn't stop reading, and jumped all day in his Jolly Jumper; the Jonathan who sang soprano, buttoned his collars, and did ten times more homework than was ever assigned; the Jonathan, now in high school, who wore shorts through the winter and carried all his textbooks on his back. Now, she has lost another Jonathan, a 36-year-old Jonathan: and like the others he lives in our memories. This one won't be replaced, but she showed me that this is how time works, and that we can survive it.

Jonathan's service, at the First Presbyterian Church, was probably attended by 250 people. I think the entire congregation came; he was in the choir, helped with VBS, and was so active there. There were so many that traveled long distances to be present, including family, friends, and classmates of Jonathan's.

The service was led by the pastor, Ron VanSchenkhof. Mom and Dad played with so much love at the service. Uncle Bob sang Dad's Psalm 23, and it was absolutely beautifully done. Debbie and Cindy Weaver read the scripture passages, and they already had me growing tears at just the moment I was meant to give the message.

Which, because people have asked, is the next post.

-Kirianne