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About a year ago my family and I relocated from Mount Joy, PA–our home for the last fourteen years–to McPherson, KS. While the past year has commonly felt like any other relocation a young family might experience, the nuances of returning to Kansas after so many years living somewhere else have been interesting and revealing. In a new series, I am going to catalog what I can about this chapter in our lives. I don’t want to lose sight of all that is happening, and I hope our story can serve as a source of hope for others who may be in a similar place.

Within just a few months of returning to Kansas our extended families experienced two tremendous losses. In September, my wife’s family said goodbye to her paternal grandfather, Ben Love. Ben was a WWII veteran, a school teacher, and loving grandfather to his six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren. In years past we weren’t able to always travel for memorial services–resigned instead to watch them streamed over the internet. Being present was a new experience all together, and I think we were better for it.

We held Ben’s memorial service in early September. An end-of-the-summer thunderstorm rained down heavily on us the entire morning–including at the graveside service. As the United States Navy honor guard played taps, in defiance of the wind and rain, and folded the rain-soaked flag that was draped over Ben’s coffin, I couldn’t help being wrapped up in the entire moment–overwhelmed to be surrounded by loved ones–holding this memory along with the many others we shared with Ben throughout his life.

Later, in October, I learned my step-father, Frank Rhodes, had passed away. Words can not describe the impact Frank made on my life. Even as I write this post many months later I can hardly pull together an adequate description of the many ways he formed and shaped my life.

I was honored to officiate his graveside service, which was held on one of the most beautiful days in October. In a shaded corner of a cemetery near Paola, KS, we celebrated Frank’s life and marked the great contribution he made to so many people. A eulogy that prepared for the service said, in part:

Frank Edward Rhodes, 72, passed away on Wednesday, September 27, 2023.He was born on Sunday, September 16, 1951, in Paola, Kansas, the son of Frank and Betty (Young) Rhodes.

Frank wore many hats and served so many people in a variety of ways. He worked as an electronic consultant for computer software development. He had a true heart for service and his passion for helping others was evident in the way he provided technical support for his clients as a service technician. And, eventually toward the end of his career, when he served as a service manager for Office Automation and the Ricoh Office Technology companies. 

His interest in mechanical operations began at a very young age. He was in 4H club as a child, he enjoyed building things with wood. There wasn’t anything Frank couldn’t fix. He was resourceful, and his workbench was always well organized. Frank had a craftman’s mind on how to expertly use the right tool for every job. I can remember many times growing up and encountering car trouble. Whether it was a flat tire on the side of the road or a faulty heating system in my 1985 Ford Taurus. Frank knew which tools to use and how to fix the problem. Watching him work and working alongside him taught me so many important life skills. Like many of us here today, I learned the tremendous value of being able to do a job by myself. This valuable lesson was instilled and developed under Frank’s guidance and care. 

Just a few weeks before Frank passed away he sent me a message to see how I was doing. My family and I had just made a long move from Pennsylvania to Kansas. In the midst of settling in, I found an old edger in the backyard shed of our new home in Kansas. I took an afternoon over the weekend to clean up the old machine, replace the air filter, sparkplug and added some fresh oil and gas. With my son’s help, the darn thing fired right up. I took more than a little joy in sharing that story with Frank in our text message exchange. 

Frank was a man who truly cared for others. In reflection of Frank’s life, my brother Joe said “I enjoyed how friendly Frank was. He talked to all strangers. He was upbeat and positive. He cared deeply for his family.” 

He really did. 

My brothers and I got to know Frank when he married our mom. We were in high school and middle school at the time. I’ll never forget the ways he supported us during that very important time in our lives. He attended school plays, programs and music concerts. He taught us to drive and chauffeured us to ice hockey practices, games and tournaments. He helped us move in to our dorms when we left for college, and when possible he was a guest of honor at our ceremonies and celebrations. 

Frank had a good relationship with God. He read the Bible everyday. As one of Frank’s pastors, I can say without a doubt that any pain he experienced in life was eclipsed by the love he had for others and the faith he held in our Savior Jesus Christ and the grace that comes from knowing his grace, peace and love. Frank became a regular worshiper at St. Paul’s Church in Elizabethtown, PA through our online worship. Without fail, I would often receive a text message of support From Frank after each and every service. Together we engaged in the many questions of this life and what inspires me today as we remember and celebrate his great influence on our lives is that today, right now, Frank’s consciousness is complete. Though he is gone from this mortal Earth he is now eternally in Heaven. He is now home. 

One of the many things Frank and I talked about these past few years is how one’s heart changes through developing a deep faith in Jesus. The source of Frank’s enduring care and kindness to others was refined through his relationship with God. He was, as outlined by the Apostle Paul, Christ’s ambassador here on Earth–sharing everything he had to help support others. Frank has been one of the better examples in my life and a model to live by, a model on how to meet people where they are, a model on how to forgive, a model of deep commitment and loyalty, a model of true character. He was a true ambassador for Christ, and perhaps Christ’s appeal was made through Frank and his connection to you. 

Frank was preceded in death by his parents Frank and Betty Rhodes; sister Shirley Kilgore; niece Donna; nephew Danny Lee Kilgore; and great-great niece Elizabeth. He is survived by his sisters Elsie Grimm and Ruth Ann (Joe) Weaver; step-sons Mathew Skillen, Joseph Skillen, and Steve Skillen; nieces Cathy Grimm, Mary (Ryan) Hays, Barbara (Troy) Lyons, Sarah (Denny) Brake; nephew James (Melissa) Grimm and many other nieces and nephews and friends. 

And his memory, his legacy, and impact he has made on all of us, will live on far beyond today. 

Recently, I listened to a podcast posted by Erwin McManus on the value and meaning of life. He draws first from a passage in Ecclesiastes where Solomon challenges a pervasive thought of his time that reduced the human experience to that of a animal’s experience–citing that the only difference between humans and animals is that animals don’t know that one day they will die. How timely.

McManus draws parallels between what Solomon was observing in his time and what we may be observing in our time–when we care more for our pets than we do ourselves and the like. McManus postulates that when we arrive at a reductionist/nihilist reasoning that there is nothing left to live for, we are overlooking richness of the life God shares with us.

I am thankful that I knew people like Ben and Frank. Both had a joy for life–even at the very end–taking advantage of every moment to be present with those they loved. Each had their own way of doing this, and each way is forever burned in my memory.

Beyond these flashpoints, we’ve experienced more and more new in a familiar place. Each day has presented new challenges along with new opportunities to invest into one another–to be a source of light and life when someone is feeling down. Amid our transition between Kansas and Pennsylvania, our children experienced a formal school setting for nearly 3 months (more on this later), and we have slowly, but surely, expand our community on our journey.

As this series continues to develop, I hope to share more with you about the many ways this new chapter has inspired and moved us to a greater place of grace and love.

In the second installment of a four-week message series titled Chain Breaker, the message “God With Us” examines the boundaries and structures God established with the Israelites to reorient them as God’s people.

The audio file embedded below was recorded at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church on February 10th during the 11:00 AM worship service.

To learn more about St. Paul’s United Methodist Church, visit our website at: http://stpauls.faith.

This week at St. Paul’s UMC in Elizabethtown we started a new sermon series called “Chain Breaker,” which over four weeks will explore the stories in Exodus and Joshua to see how the Israelites were liberated from slavery to become a light to the rest of the world. This message examines the calling Moses received from God at the burning bush.

It was family worship week at St. Pauls. I love hearing all of the background noise from the younger worshipers in the room. However, I think the Rev. Dr. Joe Skillen did a much better job at family worship with a cool sermon bingo game he and his staff devised. You can hear his sermon here:

In July 2018 I was invited to share a sermon at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church. My talk on the foundational connection between obedience and trust, can be accessed below.

 

Thursday, May 24th was a big day in the Skillen home. Wyatt, after going fifteen months without a haircut, walked into Purify Salon in Elizabethtown, PA and had about eight inches of hair cut. The transformation was simply remarkable to watch–but it wasn’t just a visual transformation Rebekah and I witnessed. Our boy is growing up right before our eyes and it was apparent on Thursday.

As Wyatt began avoiding haircuts we thought we were entering another “phase” in Wyatt’s life. But what may have started as a phase became a mission when about nine months after his last haircut a young girl Wyatt’s age, Sophia, lost a brave and courageous battle with brain cancer.

Sophia and Wyatt first met when they were very young. Sophia’s mom and Rebekah both attended the same support group for new mothers. Her passing was very difficult for so many involved, and several people close to Sophia’s family sprang to action in the most wonderful and beautiful ways. Moms from the original support group, for instance, signed up to serve meals at the Ronald McDonald house in Hershey, PA–the organization that supports families like Sophia’s who need to remain close to loved ones in the hospital.

Rebekah and I didn’t know how Wyatt would mourn, but we knew he would likely find his own call to action, and he did through the Pantene Beautiful Lengths program.

Here is Wyatt’s story.

 

I have one of those basements in my home that, if one looks closely at the pockets of junk possessions stored on shelves and in the corners, stories will slowly emerge.

The other night I found the trombone I played through middle school and high school. The case is decorated with bumper stickers that I collected throughout my four years playing in the Maize High School marching band, concert band, jazz band and pep band.

As I looked at the stickers I laughed as I remembered the different stories behind each addition. And I dwelled briefly on how each sticker represents some attempt to outwardly define my personality and shifting sense of self-expression.

Take for instance these three stickers on the bottom of one side of the case. I was never really particular about my shoes in high school. I wore vans sneakers because they were wider than most than most athletic shoes and they were really durable. I wasn’t a skateboarder, but I clearly didn’t mind if others thought I was.

The Safety Orange sticker was added as if to say, “Yeah, I like local music.” Safety Orange was a band headed up by the mythic Steve “Gooding” Gooding. I “worked” for about six months with a Wichita band called Shaft. Safety Orange and Shaft played a number of shows together in that time including a CD release party for Safety O at The Big Fish–a club that was recently demoed to make room for the new Intrust Bank Arena in downtown Wichita.

When the history of Wichita hockey is written (note to self: begin drafting a proposal to write the complete history of amateur and pro-am hockey in Wichita, KS) Triple Crown Hockey will likely be listed in the footnotes somewhere. In the mid-1990s hockey was really taking off in the Air Capital. Ray Cody, a local businessman and proponent of youth hockey, launched a roller hockey league in a spare parking lot at the Wichita Municipal Water Authority building. This was a matter that eventually came before the Wichita City Council because it was unclear if Ray even had permission to set up shop in the spare lot.

Before the city of Wichita got involved Triple Crown Hockey, a national youth sports organization hosted a weekend-long tournament that attracted teams and players from entire central plains region. What was cool about this tournament is that the local teams from Wichita had a chance to really compete with players from other parts of the country and we found that we could actually hang.

The other side of the case seems less exciting, but I’ll note the KICT 95 sticker. I know I went through several “favorite” radio stations in my youth, but T-95 still stands as one of my favorites that I listen to whenever I’m back home. I remember once calling in to the station–OK so I called in more than once–to play “name that tune.” I lost to another caller, but the thrill of hearing my voice on the radio was simply electric.

Ghosts exist. I don’t necessarily mean floating figures stuck somewhere between life and death haunt us mortals. But the ghosts of our past do amble around us, and it is interesting to take a closer look to see who we have become.

I went to Lake Worth Beach today in Florida. The weather was nearly perfect and the water was that shade of blue that hypnotizes in-lander tourists. You know what I mean. It’s that bluest blue that invites you to recline a little longer to take in the breeze, the clouds, the salt. That was how it was today. Perfect.

My children are at the right age for this kind of outing. My daughter in a sun dress, my son in shorts. I watched them laugh and play for the first time in the ocean. Well, this was the first time they played in the ocean without being carried out and dipped into the water for a photo opportunity. No, this was their first experience at the beach where they played their own games and explored the mosaic washed up pieces of shells and coral, smoothed by the rolling waters on their own.

We grabbed handfuls of shells, talked to a pelican perched on the pier, and drank Coke-a-Cola. I watched them run and laugh and throw handfuls of wet sand into the approaching waves. My son, who is always moving even when he should be sitting still, is almost cemented to the shore as the waves pass over his feet, burying him in sand a little bit more each time.

My daughter can hardly contain her excitement. She has been dreaming of this day since November. Now several months later she runs nonstop on the sand.  Then, she runs to the water and lets the cold wave wash over her legs.

When the parking meter runs out of time we wash the sand off of our feet near a public pavilion and walk slowly back to our car. We know we will be back sooner than we think, but we find ourselves completely content and fulfilled in this moment.