Roots

Ray was born on July 4, 1907 - born of Finnish parents in New York City. There is a tale of adventure concerning how his father, Charles, came to the United States.. The story - as I remember it - went like this: Charles boarded a Russian ship and when it got into the harbor in Buenos Aires, he jumped ship and made his way to Brooklyn. Maybe that's not exactly how it happened. But, he did land up in Brooklyn where he married Josefina. He was a shipbuilder like many Finns living in that Brooklyn neighborhood.

Death and hardship were part of Ray's life early on. He and his four brothers - Charles, Frank, Walder, and Martin slept crosswise in a large a bed. Tears came to his eyes whenever he told the story of how - when he and his siblings were at play - his father came down from Martin's bedside to tell them that Martin had "gone home to Jesus." Ray was always affected when he remembered this part of his life. Martin died from diphtheria or the flu (I can't remember which). He told us how he remembered the horse-drawn hearse coming to pick up the body of his young brother. There were stories of bread lines and scarcity in the depression. There was the story of how his family learned on Christmas Eve that his brother Walder had died, serving the country in World War II.

But, Ray did not live a life focused on death or scarcity. His life was rooted in God's abundant grace and life. If there were one word to describe him, for me, that word would be "joyful."

Ray was a raucous joke teller, much to the disdain of his wife, my grandmother Marie. He absolutely delighted in telling stories. I remember the story he told of how he felt the call to go to seminary. According to him, he was on a golf course when a bolt of lightening struck close by. Years later, I realized that he was pulling my leg - telling a story that mirrored Martin Luther's own story of call!

Joy!

If you knew him, you would remember his delightful laugh and that twinkle in his eye.

Joy in the Lord - Most days, Ray was up just as the sun was about to rise. Sometimes earlier. The first thing Ray did every morning was to get the coffee percolating. Then, he poured himself a cup (strong enough that a spoon could stand up in it) and sat at a table with his Bible and journal. Making time for personal devotions was part of his daily routine. I have no doubts that the last words on his lips at night were prayers to God. I remember how appalled he was that I would put my transistor radio under my pillow to fall asleep to the music from a local radio station. He thought my last thoughts before drifting to sleep should be of God.

Joy in the blessings of family - Ray loved his family. At every mealtime, he said a prayer giving thanks for the food before him. But, he also said prayers for his "children, our children's children, and our children's children's children." My brothers and I teased him about this, but we would have sorely missed this invocation if he had ever skipped over it. I think, sometimes, he identified himself with Abraham and the covenant God gave to Abraham. God's covenant with Abraham was God's covenant with my grandfather - to be blessed with children and generations to follow.

Joy in the blessings of harvest - His hobby was gardening - and what a green thumb he and my grandmother had! When I watched him work in his garden, tending his plants, I could see that this was a very spiritual matter for him. When the harvest was gathered, Ray and Marie canned much of the food. They sold some produce by the roadside and the money they made they gave to fight world hunger.

Joy in the blessings of heritage - Ray was proud to be a first-generation American. I think it tickled him to have been born on the fourth of July! We celebrated his birthday with parades of pots and pans and made cakes looking like the American flag. The Finnish flag flew from time-to-time off his porch. While his roots were important, he did not let that stand in the way of getting to know others who came from other places. For him, ALL were God's children. There were no distinctions.

Joy in welcoming the stranger - Ray could make conversations with anyone. Anyone! We laugh when we remember the story of his trip to a hardware store where he struck up a conversation with someone. "Bob," he exclaimed. "How are you?" My grandmother witnessed this and wondered who this fellow was. She didn't recognize him. And Bob didn't seem to recognize Ray. But, they conversed together for awhile and it wasn't until Bob walked away that my grandmother saw that he was wearing a belt around his waste with his name across the front!

Ray -

Always welcoming.

Always blessing.

Always grace-drive.

Living life through his faith lens 24/7.

I give thanks for the living witness of my grandfather!