He Was A Good Man!

What would you do?
Would you have gone to Ian’s funeral?

It was 15 years since we had seen each other.

There were widespread family discussions, mostly by emails and texting, as to whether I should or should not go.
Was it hypocritical if I went?
Would his friends and neighbours think of me as an intruder?
Would I travel to Levin knowing no one and leave more hurt and disappointed than before?
What would I feel after the event if I did not go?
Had I any responsibility to go?

So many different opinions and all from people who had a right to give advice and whom I listened to.

I personally felt a strange proximity to Mum & Dad and my brother Robert. Robert is in Australia and does not keep good health. None of us would ever have imagined a time when one member of the family died without any of us being at the funeral.

Finally, late Tuesday night, James and I decided I should go.

Sharyn made the arrangements and we flew together to Wellington, picked up a car and arrived in Levin right on time for the funeral. From that moment on Ian’s many friends embraced us as honoured guests.

The chapel area had been decorated with driftwood and toi toi and his coffin was draped with ribbons and souvenirs from his riding days. (Let me know if you think it appropriate to show a photo here.)

No singing, I was glad, but everyone spoke of Ian as a piece of fern, a ‘talking stick,’ was passed around. So many good memories of his great kindness, of him paying for the funeral of a neighbour’s baby, of getting his neighbour out of a fix that people found funny but he was gracious enough never to mention it again, of him talking to neighbours and their dogs as he daily made his way to the beach to sit on a log with his thoughts; and so many of the men concluded their story with, “He was a good man!”
I had not realised that I was his next of kin and that by going I was honouring his friends.

We were ushered into hushed offices, spoken to in gentle tones. We were given important phone numbers to ring. We were invited to see Ian and spend time alone with him, which we did. Later we were gathered up by his friends and taken to see his house and Hokio Beach. It is a magnificent place to grow old in. Wild surf, vast expanses of sand and drift wood, magnificent, and so like Hakatere where we had grown up.

Joy, Margaret, Bruce, endless people poured into us all they remember about Ian, gladly filling in the gap of the last few years, it was a great experience!

We sat on a log and they marvelled that Ian did the same ~ who wouldn’t!

They told each other than Ian and I even walked the same ~ yep, that will be right, we both have had a stroke!

Finally they were going to ‘have a wine on the beach’ and I could see the celebration in memory of Ian was about to begin but it was time for us to leave. Our emotional cup was almost overflowing, after so much unexpected input.
My heart is filled; it is singing within me that Ian was a good man! I gladly leave this good man in God’s tender hands, for He is the only one who truly knows Ian’s heart, and I am glad He does. Rest in peace!

Kenneth Ian Knox 31.12 1940 ~ 22.6 2008

I feel so restless today.
It is hard to settle to my work so I must write instead.

I have 2 brothers; they are 4 & 5 years older than me.
Yesterday the younger one died.

As children he and I were close. He was sickly (TB), unattractive, quiet, Mum was tough on him; how often I have hidden and cried as he was beaten; if she had seen me crying in sympathy I might have got it too. Our eldest brother outshone Ian in everything it seemed.

He was a shepherd at The Grampians Station; I was a nurse at Christchurch Hospital. He came to Christchurch and we went to the Johnny Devlin show together it was a great night out!

Ian was in line for selection for the Olympics in Japan but his horse, Avapeak, (from Avalanche and Mitre Peak) became lame.

Ian never married; he was alone.

I joined a cult and cut family ties. They were never properly resumed with Ian, his choice, though I worked at it. He never met any of my children, though he had opportunity to, and never responded to any of my gifts, photos or letters.

I thought one day God would make it right but for some of our choices there is a price to pay. Today I am paying that price.

Ian died yesterday ~ and the sense of loss is far greater than I would have realised.

Goodbye Ian. Please God may he rest in peace.

I've slipped

Over the passed month I have changed churches.
It feels so strange.
As if a silent transaction has taken place.
As if no one has noticed.

I leave a huge story behind.
From cult mentality and appearance to present day Christian.
Fifteen years of growth and friendships, of confused struggle and increasing insight.

From acceptance and affirmation, to the final meeting I ran, when I realised respect and support for me had faded and I knew it was God’s timing to hand to the group the resignation I had prepared.

And so the penultimate step had been taken and the door was open for me to move on.

My husband and I talk with the Pastor, a kind farewell to me with his blessing and I step away. I still return when James wants me to go with him.

But my focus has shifted to the area of ministry I am most strongly called to and which is wide open to me elsewhere.

There is pain in the parting. So much has happened, unrecorded, left to pass unknown into history. Big things, unspoken. Things that have impacted the church; bits and pieces that I have instigated when in the leadership team, still apparent there today but now just part of the church makeup. It feels sad that no one wants to know the bullet points of these last 15 years, though who would and why would they. I have left unnoticed. God knows it all and can be glorified.

I was in Australia the Sunday my name appeared as having joined the new church family; I slipped in quietly. I am so glad to be part of such a growing and functioning church; I love the vision of the leadership and really want to help it happen.

Yet someone did care that I had left, I saw the tears in the eyes of my dear friend when I mentioned it.

And someone was glad I had arrived, I saw the joy in eyes of another close friend that I had, after several years of living on the fringe, arrived!

It is a very big thing emotionally to slip from one church to another, I wonder how we as a church family could do it better.

And Granny goes where ........

Taking our beautiful 6 year old Grandson to school and running dead on time it fell my lot to put his bag into the cloakroom ~ or the modern equivalent of.

Went into the nearest cloakroom and a tiny angelic girl said "You shouldn't be here."
"Oh, why not?" asked Granny
"Coz this is the girls' room!"
"Thank you so much," I said thinking of the huge embarrassment our boy would have had at 3pm if I hadn't been set right on that score.

Ventured to the next cloakroom.
Walked in boldly knowing my rights, selecting a suitable peg when I saw a little boy who seemed to have blood on his face, wondered if a wandering Granny could be of any use, as I hung the bag.
"You had better leave quickly" said another small boy.
"Oh? Why?" asked Granny
"Coz this is the boys' room!" said small boy

Yep, I have been put in my place today ..... or not depending on how one views it.