Thursday, March 5, 2015

The Little Mennonite Family Meets Father Hesburgh

The earthly life of Father Theodore Hesburgh has ended after nearly a century.  This extraordinary man sent ripples from northern Indiana to far-flung corners of the globe.  It's my pleasure to honor him, and to recall a chance encounter with a kind gentleman at the Hesburgh Library, eighteen years ago.  Children, do you remember?  Here's what I recorded in your scrapbooks:

December 30, 1996
            I decided to make use of the children’s Christmas vacation to visit Notre Dame campus.  I was hoping to create some kind of memory for them; I had no idea what an awesome opportunity they’d have to look back on!  I took the four youngest, since Nicole had been there when we went with Mom, Dad, and the exchange students, and this day she was going to shop with Grandma Yoder for her birthday.
            Once we parked, we made our way across campus toward the Golden Dome as fast as we could, since the air was damp and freezing.  The boys were going, “Wow, they have their own police!  Wow, they have their own post office!  This must be the most important school in the world!”  I assured them that it was probably at least the most prestigious school in the Midwest.
            We gladly took shelter from the cold in the beautiful Basilica of the Sacred Heart.  We walked along the aisles and alcoves, whispering and pointing to the incredible art in stained glass windows, statues, nativity scene, and the awesome painted ceiling, which seemed as if you were looking into a sky full of angels.  Jesse asked about how Catholics are different than other Christians, and if you go to Notre Dame, do they make you be a Catholic.  They were all pretty impressed by the beautiful church.
            Back out in the cold, we found our way through the maze of ancient halls to the stadium, where they at least got to see where Notre Dame football is played.  Facing the stadium is the Hesburgh Library.  That was the other main attraction I wanted the kids to see, since it was too much to hope for them to tolerate hunting down the Snite Museum and actually going through it.  The mosaic on the front of the library of Jesus with his hands stretched up, (“Touchdown Jesus,” according to Nathan, who was just on campus with the third graders), is impressive, even in the cold, and the children started running to it.  Jesse asked if it was painted, and I told him it was all inlaid—all nine or however-many stories of it. 
            Once inside, we headed to the elevator.  I got in, hoping no one would stop us and say, “Hey, what are you doing here with those kids!” 
            As Jesse was asking what button to push, a hand waved in between the closing doors.  A grey-haired gentleman in a cap that was similar to Nathan’s Dutch boy hat got on and said, “How’d you like that!” as if he were Moses, having made the doors open without touching them.  “Are you looking for a good view of the campus?” he asked. 
            “Yes,” I said, “Do we want the ninth floor?” 
            “No, you want the thirteenth floor.  Hit 13, young man.  I’ll show you the best view on campus.”  Then he offered me his hand and said, “I’m Theodore Hesburgh.” 
            I couldn’t believe it!  “Oh, it’s nice to meet you!” I said, in awe.  “I’m Sarah Yoder.”  I wanted to add, “…the meek and lowly.” 
            “Are you related to John Yoder?”  This Catholic icon can even play The Mennonite Game??  I knew the Father had spoken at one of Goshen College’s commencements.  This was probably who he had contact with.  I found out later he must have been referring to John Howard Yoder, a Mennonite theologian who was a professor at Notre Dame. 
            Since all Mennonites are certainly related if you go back far enough, I said, “Very distantly.”  Being a very intelligent man, he was probably thinking, “This broad’s not related to him.”
            He gave a little tug on Carmen’s hood and asked, “Who’s this little gal?”
            “Cahmen,” she said in a tiny voice.
            “Karen?” Hesburgh asked, proving he is not God.
            “Carmen,” four children said, in a rather loud voice.
            “Oh, Carmen,” said the Father, and he started singing something from the Opera Carmen
            I laughed, “She’s not familiar with that yet.”  (Actually, neither am I.)
            We got out on the thirteenth floor.  “This is the top floor that’s open for general use,” he explained.  There’s another floor that’s just used for receptions.  I told them when they were putting this up that I wanted a room with a view of the dome.  And I wanted floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.  I never had enough room for my books.”
            He led us back, unlocking several large, wooden doors, and then we found ourselves in a spacious but homey room, the outer walls of which were all windows.  “Wow!” said the kids.  I found out later that what impressed them most about the room was the big screen TV! 
            Father Hesburgh motioned us toward a window behind his desk.  “Go ahead, take a look.”
            The kids rushed to the window.  There was a very large Bible, or some other ancient book, on a stand which they had to go around, and I said, “Oh, careful, guys!”
            “Don’t worry, they can’t hurt anything in here,” offered the Father.  We looked down over the campus of Notre Dame.  He certainly did have a good view of the dome!  “On a clear day, you can see clear to the dunes,” he said with a smile.
            The children were pointing out places we had just seen.  “There’s that monument thing!” Jesse exclaimed. 
            The president emeritus said, “That’s the last thing I put in before I left the office.  It’s a memorial for all the boys who were killed in the Vietnam War.”
            He held out a box of chocolates.  “Do you mind?”
            “Oh, not at all,” I said.  The children each took one, except Nathan, who said, “No thanks.”  I’m sure I probably had to prompt the others to thank him. 
            The boys had asked me if some Irish people started the college, so I asked the Father, “Was the school started in the 1800’s... by some nuns?”  That’s what I thought I remembered.
            “No, a French priest named Edward Sorin started it in 1842.  See, here’s his name.”  He drew our attention to a huge circular rug in the middle of the room.  “It has the name of each president and the years he was in office.  And here’s my name—but they didn’t put any years for me, because they gave it to me while I was still in office, in 1985.  I was president for 25 years, until 1987.”
            “And since then you’ve been…teaching?”
            “No, I taught before I served as president.  Since I’ve retired, I’ve been mostly traveling.  There are things in this office from all around the world.  I just spent Christmas on an aircraft carrier.”
            The kids were looking out the north window now.  I said, “It looks like you still have Christmas presents to open.  Well, thank you so much for showing us your office!”  And we made our way to the door.  I did not want to impose on his generosity.
            “My pleasure.”  He saw us out to the public area.  I shook his hand and said, “This was a real treat.  It was very nice to meet you.  Can you thank him, children?”  And each of the kids thanked him and shook his hand.
            “Why, you’re welcome!  Come to the campus again sometime.” 
            And with that, we left the realm of Father Theodore Hesburgh.
            Back down in the library’s lobby, I put my hands to my face and tried to get a grip on what had just happened.  “Do you guys realize who that was??  That was Father Theodore Hesburgh, the famous theologian and past president of Notre Dame College!  This building was made in honor of him!  He hob-knobs with Heads-of-State and dignitaries of all kinds!”
            “Wow!” said Jesse.
            “Oh, man!” said Nathan.  “I thought he was just a guy who works here!” 
            We were all trying to take it in.  “And I had no film in the camera!”  The boys had just finished off the roll at the Basilica.  “I didn’t even get his autograph!  Why didn’t I get his autograph??”
            “Whoa,” said Jesse, “This would be kind of like seeing Michael Jordan and not getting his autograph, wouldn’t it!”
            “Kind of!  All we have to show for our meeting with Theodore Hesburgh is a few candy wrappers,” I said, as I saw Tony fish the brown paper from the chocolate out of his pocket.  I grabbed it and said, “Who else has one?”  Carmen produced hers and I put them both safely in my pocket. 
            “Darn,” said Jesse, “I just took the candy and left the paper!”
            “And I didn’t even take a candy!” moaned Nathan, “Why didn’t I take a candy?”
            On the way home, we continued to talk about what an awesome event it was, who would get the candy wrappers in their scrapbooks, who all we had to tell, and how unfortunate it was that we didn’t get his picture.  “Well, it’s better to have met him and not have anything to show for it than to not have met him,” observed Jesse.
            “That’s right!” I agreed.  “And just think, it may have been special to meet Father Hesburgh, but it will be even more special to meet Jesus some day in heaven.  That’s even more awesome than this!” 
            The famous Father Hesburgh invited us into his inner chambers, but the Creator of the universe invites us into his family!  
            Yes, it was a day to remember.



Tuesday, February 10, 2015

A Hard Start to the New Year

January 18, 2015
The last seven months have passed in a blur of activity, as Jesse, Steph, and our one-year-old twin grandsons moved into our basement for a time of transition in their lives.  We knew it was temporary, (this is good!), and we also knew it would be hard when they left.  We had no clue how traumatic our last few weeks together would be. 
Steph was expecting our third grandchild in May.  In December she was still having a lot of vomiting, in spite of being out of her first trimester.  Sometime shortly after the first of the year, there was a middle-of-the-night run to the ER when she threw up so much her esophagus ripped.  Thank God Jesse's job with Dennis was tapering off, so he could be around to help with the babies and his ill wife.  Thank God I am no longer a full-time school nurse and was able to be home so much in the last few months. Thank God Scott is an awesome grandfather and pitched in with the babies whenever he could.
Five days later, when Jesse and Steph went for her check with the nurse midwife following the ER visit, an ultrasound revealed the cause of her hyperemesis: a very rare condition called partial molar pregnancy.  A tumor was growing along with the baby, taking over the uterus, threatening Steph's life through possible spread of the malignancy and preeclampsia.  They were given no hope for their baby, which was certainly genetically abnormal.  Induction of labor was tentatively scheduled for two days later.  The kids came home in tears, their heads swimming.  Later that night Steph's blood pressure shot up.  They were told to go straight to Labor and Delivery.
Long story short—the baby didn't survive, but Stephanie did.  She was released 24 hours later. This was the week they had planned to move to Bloomington, IL.  Jesse was able to move back his start date at Country Financial, and Steph came home to bed rest.  The next day our pastor came to the house—twice—during terrible cold and snow that had closed the schools, so he could ease the pain of a young couple he barely knew.  He held a funeral for the child they had named Cori.  The kids set up a little memorial with flowers Nicole had sent, a candle, and the only photo they had of their baby—from the ultrasound taken a few days earlier.  Ed read the  Bible and spoke words of truth and assurance.  Jesse read a letter he had written, telling Cori how much they had anticipated their lives with him or her in their family and how broken their hearts were.  Steph’s parents Randy and Karen, Scott and I, and Jesse and Steph wept, as the lights shone on the Christmas tree I hadn’t had a chance to take down. 
The next day Steph was readmitted to the hospital for two days of magnesium sulfate in an effort to get her blood pressure back down and prevent seizures.  Two days after she was released, Jesse went to Bloomington to start his new job. Through all this, we were upheld by the love and prayers of our family, church family, and friends.  People brought food, offered child care, sent cards, did jobs I would normally do, and most of all, prayed.  Steph’s parents again made the trip from Illinois and packed the belongings of the family of four, as Steph directed. 
At her follow-up appointment at Fairhaven Physicians, Steph was given the news she had prayed for—that she was healthy enough for her and the babies to move to IL with Jesse when he returned the next weekend.  
Words can’t express how grateful we are for all the hands that helped move our kids, including those who had been willing to do it the weekend it was originally scheduled.  Yesterday a caravan of trucks, trailer, and minivans made its way to the plains of Illinois and our kids’ new home.  Karen and I cried and marveled at the Lord’s provision through hardship.  OK, I cried and she drove.  At our destination, we were met by a party of family members, church family, and friends—17 in all—who made quick work of unloading boxes and furniture.  Steph’s friend Eva even helped me feed the babies and run after them in the play area of a nearby mall.  As Scott and I laid our heads down in our hotel room, we knew our kids will be looked after.  But I cried anyways! 
What’s next?  Recovery!  We’re going to reclaim our house and un-baby-proof it, at least for a while. : )  We’re going to do things for just us!  We’re going to miss “our babies” terribly.  And occasionally we’ll probably look at each other and ask, “What was that that happened to us last year?”  
It was a precious opportunity for three generations to live together-- learning, growing, loving.