Goodbye For Now…Pastor Diehl

Monday morning, I received the news that Pastor Diehl had died peacefully in his recliner the day before. He was 89, and he was to preach that morning. He was our pastor in Oskaloosa, IA before my dad was called to preach and pastor in Virginia. Pastor Diehl was a lifelong friend and an encourager. My heart hurt and was heavier than usual as I left for work. I have recalled much over the last few days…

Pastor Diehl lived a full and meaningful life of purpose. He was faithful to God’s call to preach and embody the Gospel. There was an energy and a passion when he preached. There was a concern in his voice. There was easy laughter as he would throw his head back and make his little comments. And then there was the way he lifted his knee and pumped his arm when he was making a “Glory!” shout. And the tributes just keep pouring in as to his example of the love of God and the Gospel of Peace that he proclaimed. And although all of this is true, I felt that we lost so much on Sunday. We lost an encourager on earth. We lost an engaging, positive voice that is needed now more than ever. We lost a prayer warrior (here on earth-at least).

As my Dad started recalling the stories of Jim and Dorothy Diehl (even recalling the name of their dog Ginger) a memory became as clear as it happened 50 years ago. Ginger would meet us at the door of the old Osky Church after services were over, and Dorothy would start singing, “Home, Home On The Range.” Ginger would throw her little head back and start singing (or howling?) toward the sky. Haha! I even started singing with Ginger, and she would sing right along with me, as well.

I remember watching them with the church, with family, and even with their dog! Haha. There was something so kind, so real, so authentic, and also protective. They did not share their personal stories with us, they kept some things private for their family. And, although their home was on church property, they seemed to keep some distance and some space for each other and their kids that they did not share with everyone else. Their boundaries seemed more healthy than most. I am so grateful for this example.

There was tenderness that made you know that you were loved, thought of and cared about. Several years ago, I ran into Pastor Jim and Dorothy in Denver, and we reconnected as if we had never left each other’s sides. They embraced me and my hubs and my son. It was such a sweet moment.

Not long ago, we went through some difficult battles, and as we shared together, Pastor Diehl reminded me that there was still work to do. He told me not to quit, that our lives were valuable and our ministry was not done. He knew we had withdrawn our membership from his beloved denomination, but he encouraged us and continued to personal message me from time to time on Facebook when I just needed to talk. In fact, we were going to meet for lunch when he preached in Ohio again.

Today I was reading a Facebook post by Leslie Leyland Fields. She asked the question, “How do we want to live the years we’re given?” She was reflecting on her days inside a care facility visiting a friend, and she was wondering if we are among those who really see, hear and experience this life, or if we are among the walking dead. She quoted this Mary Oliver poem, and I want to share it with you in memory of a man, a leader-yes, but a human being who saw me and helped remind me to LIVE life and live out my calling.

The poet Mary Oliver writes her dying wish,

“When it's over, I want to say all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

(“When Death Comes”)

I want to take the world into my arms as long as I can. (You too?)

I want to stay that child-bride still married to amazement. (You too?)

So I write. Everywhere I go I carry an invisible pen. What must be seen? What must be said? Who can I love? What can I pass on of this loony cunning beautiful life so that we both---writer and reader---can still see the spider on its silk, the blue jay at the window and the pale man in pajamas slumped in a chair who lifted his grey head as I passed and raised a feeble hand. Yes, I saw him. Do you see him now?

I hear him. I think he’s saying, “Take the world into your arms while you can.”

Goodbye for now, my friend. I believe you lived out each moment with vigor and with the energy of someone much younger. And, you have asked me again to consider in your dying how I might live.

How do I want to live the years I have been given?

I want to be an encourager. I want to advocate for those who have been kicked to the curb. I want to embrace those around me and take notice of the trees, the leaves turning, the flowers blooming, the birds and the world around me – not wishing away today.

I want to “take the world into my arms while I can.”

My condolences to Jodi, Jimmy, Don and your whole family. I know you are missing your dad, your mom and your little brother David. Hugs to you all.

Goodbye for now, Pastor Diehl.

(You always told me “pastor” was your favorite title of all.)