GRIEF & GRATITUDE

The second pew on the pulpit side will forever painfully remind us of the absence of Sue and Mel Awes. We are deeply grieved. We are at the same time grateful for their incredibly vibrant and faith-filled lives. The submissions below both speak to this grief and gratitude in particular reference to these dear saints, and many also speak to it in universal terms. In this month's project you will experience poetry referencing sweaters, prose mentioning Vikings, intricate eggs calling to mind the resurrection, painted plates and peg dolls, visual art about the slog of the everyday or the tranquility of nature, Swedish piano duets, and various songs of farewell and hope and peace. It is such an unusual and difficult thing to remember and practice the profound hope of Christ when we are not able to gather as we’d like. Even with all its deficiencies, I’m glad we can “gather” here to share together.

After you’re done here, I highly recommend reading through Sue’s blog, May 1st Everlasting. Emily Awes Anderson, Mel and Sue’s daughter, has has written an articulately beautiful and faith-filled post about the family’s sadness and Mel and Sue’s glory. And while you’re there, you should read some archived posts. I promise you it will nourish your soul with faith, laughter, and yes—even art.

I’m sure Sue’s influence on me has had some part in shaping my endeavor with this Creativity Project. As you can see, she was a pioneer in creating a space for others to “gather” around inspiring ideas, precise words, worthwhile curiosity and engaging art. And though Mel didn’t participate directly in that space, you will see below how many different musical artists he has encouraged and inspired in our church family. At least 4 of the artists below felt especially emboldened and blessed by Mel’s personal encouragements to them.

So you see, the impact of their faithful lives are already giving birth to new faithful acts of courage. I imagine many more will continue. What a wonder and a grace that we can mourn their absence, celebrate their reunion with Christ, and be so thankful that their influence continues still.

A Sue Awes Plate

Sue Awes, submitted by Mary Olson

acrylic on wood

...for the beauty of color and beautiful blooms are bright dabs of graces witnesses to a promise... (D. McKalvey)

Sue

Naomi Hamer

pen & watercolor

I had the privilege of getting to know Sue while serving on the CotC Arts Team together. A couple of years ago she stepped down as chair of that team, and we had a little good-bye dinner for her, where I gave her this card. She was so tickled that someone would actually draw a picture of her, so she took a picture of it and sent it to rest of our group. Being a "small a" artist, and knowing this was no masterwork, I felt a little uncomfortable that she shared it with everyone. But, looking back, that was such a Sue thing to do. She was always lifting others up and promoting their work, celebrating the beauty of creativity in its many forms: through the CotC arts jubilee, her blog, and her many kind words of encouragement. Sue was such a colorful personality, and it came out in the way she dressed, the art she was so drawn to, the opinions she so boldly expressed, and the youthful exuberance she exuded in her love for others. Sue's loss has left a huge void in our church family, and she and Mel are sorely missed. I am so blessed to have known Sue, and I thank God for her life...and I am so glad she sent me this picture.

Hold Fast

John Hardacker

graphite on paper

Raiments A La Fin Du...

Adam Murray

For Mel Awes

Not so petty a thing to dress for glory.
To be known without knowing.
How it helps to give something
of yourself - a colorful sweater.

This place echos with rememberance
of vestments worn in the dance.
Together - thick glasses - and you
a silver chain holding the cross.

I've wondered how you looked -
in the grey hospital bed - wearing
I presume, something less - a gown.
Covering you in unknowness,

but glory pressing hard on the visible.
That grey bed - a chariot - onward to
the greater dance, to be dressed and known.
Disguised - as it were - in burial cloths.

My memory holds only sounds and images.
The speculations take flight.
What I remember are those kind words
spoken to a boy - known but yet unnamed.

On that bed, like your pew,
there you sit, next to her -
And I sit nearby, across time -
Yet, now you rise to sing for me.

So, perhaps (yes, I think),
I will Know you in glory - singing together
And recognize you by the vision of
the lilies of the field - dazzling.

Hope

Pam Keske

watercolor pencils

This picture is called Hope and was done after a very long season of darkness. It felt like I was living in a cave-like tunnel and had finally come to the end.

This is a "now" and, for those of us who are still here, "not yet" picture. I think about our earthly existence as something like living in a cave/tunnel compared to our real home. I imagine the moment we finally get to the light at the end of the tunnel something like this. Kind of like stepping through the stable door in The Last Battle and finding yourself in Aslan's country.

This new creation picture is filled with many things I love. Moving water, and still ponds, high mountains and both tropical trees next to trees you would find on the north shore, roses and irises and plants made up in my imagination. I love the suggestion that this is a VERY large country and we will get to spend eternity discovering it. And light, a lot of light, not from a sun but from The Throne. It does not take much imagination to replace this frightened but hopeful woman with Mel and Sue. Stepping into real light, one and then the other. Breathing real air, seeing real beauty, hearing the music of creation from the original score. It may not dull the ache of loss, and it may increase the longing to be there with them, but O what joy that there is a "there" to be! May our hearts find glimpses of our real home everyday and find comfort in the longing.

For Sue

Elizabeth Carlson

You always wore the brightest of colors, Sue, and who else but you could wear them without a hint of affectation or self-consciousness?  It’s as though you knew a splash of color would always be needed, and so you brought it with you to share. Even on the greyest of wintry Sunday mornings, you and Mel lit up the whole gathering space in the back of the church, both coming and going.  It was your smile, too, and your way of looking people right in the face. You were straight talking, without a hint of judgment. And you listened straight and strong, fully present, as though there was nothing else in the world that you needed to be doing.  Maybe your dimmed hearing these last few years intensified your concentration, but it was just like you to take whatever life gave and turn it into something beneficial for all.

You listened to life that way, too, in your writing.  How did you ever remember all the details, except through a gifted mind and memory, and an attentiveness to recall?  You astounded us with your matter-of-fact descriptions, collecting the ordinary into deep reflective pools of wisdom and humor that revealed much more than the details themselves. You taught us to observe intently, to value remembering and to let the past illuminate the present. 

The first time I saw you, you were leading a roomful of somewhat reluctant Minnesota-bred Episcopalians in a daylong Walk Through the Bible course. You helped us learn and retell the great events of scripture, somehow compelling us with good humor to use our whole bodies in tracing the great peaks and pathways of the Big Story. You led with confidence, helping us to forget ourselves and to focus on knowing the most important things. 

You’re still doing that, from the other side of glory.  Helping us reset our focus on the Important Things, and with a bright splash of color, as we remember you.  

But we grieve your leaving, Sue.  In life, and in writing, endings always seem to be the hardest part.  

Stained Glass

Leif Jacobs

marker

Mel and Sue Shaped Tears

Brenda Henry

Mel
&
Sue
shaped
tears trickle
down our
cheeks in rivers
of colorful sweaters,
& pretty neck scarves,
in love seated in
 the second row.
How could
we bear
it if
we
did
not
know
that
You
are
in
this
river
too,
counting
every
tear
?

Wherever You Go

Lorri Eiswald

photography

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

I'm grateful that our Lord shepherds us on the road of life.

Midnatt

Daniel Bixby & Bryonie Moon

Both Mel and Sue loved the old hymns and Sue was especially fond of those that shared her Swedish heritage. This virtual duet is a medley of two hymns. The lyrics of both were written by Swedish hymnwriter, Carolina Sandell Berg. One hymn is paired with a traditional Swedish melody, while the other uses music composed by Swedish singer and composer, Oscar Ahnfelt.

This piece is more about symbolism than artistry. We’ve titled it Midnatt, which means midnight in Swedish. The pealing clock is interrupted by hymns that depict the hope, comfort, and safety Christians find in the loving arms of the Father.

Grief

Todd M. Johnson

Grief is empty space. Space that was once filled; that we turn to expectantly for the familiar smile, conversation, optimism, expressions of concern and support that once occupied a place now hollow. Space carved into our souls that will forever remain that man, that woman, who once occupied it – unique manifestations of God’s loving sculpting who made their home in our hearts and now and forever are gone.

It is unbearable.

Grief is surprise. Surprise that anybody so astonishingly real could possibly be beyond our reach for all our remaining years on this earth. They are the beloved home, forever stripped bare; the fertile field, grown eternally fallow; the voices that stretched the corners of our hearts, permanently still.

It isn’t possible.

Grief is disbelief. Disbelief that we could be so powerless against the disappearance of those we love so much. That despite that love they could vanish beyond the precipice of death. That we are powerless to follow or rescue or transcend or banish the suffering it causes us.

It cannot be.

Grief is the salving reminder: that the pain we feel is for ourselves. That those we ache to hold and be held by again - those whom we miss and long for so intensely – do not feel our emptiness, pain or loss. They have passed over the chasm by that Grace without which our sorrow would be too tragic to bear; borne over the bridge that is Christ to the fullness of his presence where grief holds no power.

Where we will see them again.
Where their space in our hearts will be filled once more.
Where their silence will be broken.
Where our pain will be forever extinguished.

Goodbye, Mel and Sue. There are still so many stories you haven’t yet shared. I look forward to hearing them all.    

Oh Lord, My Rock and My Redeemer

Emily Holley

textual art

Everyday

Britta Scanlon

acrylic paint and pen on canvas

This summer I experienced great grief from the death of my grandma. Her health declined and then she died during the same two weeks that my husband got a wonderful job which required us to move to a bigger apartment. His new job and the move opened up so many opportunities for us since we felt so stuck where we were. We are grateful. The death of my grandma was tragic and I have never experienced death like this before. It still doesn't feel real all the time since we couldn't visit her for four months prior to her death due to covid-19. There is both joy and sadness. Everyday. And everyday has to keep coming and we have to keep going - especially with two little ones. Here in my painting you'll find things that represent my current and past grief, in the kitchen which I'm grateful for, all mixed in with everyday life. In the middle you'll find a photo of my grandparents and I laughing at my wedding next to the orchid plant from her funeral. Other items you can search for are my childhood cat, boat keys, my favorite stuffed animal toy, a baguette, little birds from my grandma's house, and things from my daily life.

To Carry On

Ann Zilka

We are not made for this
This whelming sorrow
That overtakes our souls
Where deep cries to deep
 
To be apart
Is not of God
No wonder it’s such work
So hard
 
Unnatural, unbearable
We carry on
And on
And on

To plumb
The depth of loss
Of grief
For that which lies beyond
 
To know Him
As our only hope
A bridge
O’er the divide 

Keeper of eternity
Where dear ones
Now reside

A Beautiful Reminder

Cindy Schmickle

Mel and Sue were among my first friends when I came to Church of the Cross 8 ½ years ago.  They always sat in front of me at the 9 a.m. service and we often exchanged the peace.  I admired Sue’s artwork including the “peg dolls” which she beautifully painted.  I once asked her if she had ever painted a peg doll of one of the saints.  She responded that she hadn’t but which one would I suggest?  Reading, at that time, about Catherine of Siena, I gave Sue her name.  The following  Advent Season  Sue handed me a small box on a Sunday morning.  When I opened it, and pulled the tissue paper aside, I found a lovely peg doll of Catherine of Siena.  And now, Mel and Sue, you are numbered among the saints in Heaven, the great cloud of witnesses.  And, as my lovely peg doll is a reminder of Catherine and the witness of her life, I am also reminded of Mel and Sue and the faithful witness of their lives during their time here on earth.  Soli Deo Gloria.

Catherine of Siena, anonymous painter, 19th Century

Let the Spirit of the Lord Come Down

In those last days I spoke some with Mel and Sue. For Mel, I sang a few songs. I sang Jesus Though Joy, Amazing Grace, a song of lament whose title I can’t recall, and also the simple chorus Let the Spirit of the Lord Come Down. Actually my 4 year old daughter and I recorded it together. We talked about how a dear friend was sick. We wanted to sing him something to encourage him, something like a prayer. I was worried that talking on the phone was too difficult considering the various breathing apparatuses Mel was using, so we recorded ourselves using “voice memo” on my phone and texted him our simple melody. I still remember getting Mel’s text response. There were caps and exclamation marks—the texting version of Mel’s authentic and empowering enthusiasm. He wanted Etta to know how much he loved it. Later that night he called and we talked. His breathing made it very difficult, nearly impossible, but he still wanted to talk. What generosity of spirit. I won’t forget that conversation because it ended up being our last.

I’m glad that I sent him this song. The words don’t solve our earth-bound (heart)brokenness but they speak of the presence, the power and the glory of the Lord whom Mel and Sue loved so deeply, and who was present in his power and his glory with them through all of this, and even now more-so than ever before.

Osprey

Lily Jacobs

charcoal on paperboard

Ashokan Farewell

Corrie Bascom

Late last year, we as a church family had to say farewell to two beloved members of our church. I didn't know Mel and Sue very well personally, but both of them (and Mel in particular) always made a point of complimenting and encouraging me whenever I helped to lead worship during our services. I'm so grateful to God for these two wonderful, joyful, kind people who blessed our congregation for so many years.

Thoughts for Sue

Barb LaTondresse

He gives and takes away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord?
Holy rage, questions night light.

Sue was sunshine incarnate especially in the Spring when she came back to MN with a deep tan, she literally glowed. But even on cloudy days she radiated joy, Sue was the perfect Inkling. She always had insightful words to share in writing or assessing someone else's work. And her use of art and music to make a point was impeccable. Consider her prolific blog MAY 1ST EVERLASTING.

Maybe she will find it so, Wherever Sue finds heaven I hope it will give all the answers to the hardest questions, the VIKINGS will win all the time, and THE SUN ONLY RISES.

Vengamos Cantando

Casey and Marty Ochs

In our difficulties and grief, a message of hope...

Vengamos Cantando in Spanish by Donna Peña

English Translation:
Everything is possible, everything is color,
don’t be afraid because God is love With joy,
come dancing before His altar

Chorus: Let’s come singing to the Lord
With voices raised in spite of the rain
We say come out into the light!
Come without doubt before the throne,
In His care forever

The whole world will come and go,
those in Christ will dance forever He is the song,
we are the rhythm of His soul In our lives there are many storms,
there will be many winds which dash our dreams
Remember that He cares for the lilies of the field!

The Seer

Cheryl Witham

The Seer

Sue was a keen observer.  She listened with wonder.  Daring to ask questions. What she sensed, what she saw, she spoke with clarity and courage.  Her style was honest with deep integrity and wit.  She spoke heart to heart.  In her blogs, on paper and in person her words were crafted spaciously, never saying more than needed. 

Each Sunday her impeccable presence was anticipated, expected.  Always sitting in the second row, she had our backs.  She came among us with grace to be present and to participate in the gathering of God’s people in worship.  I often took notice of her unique style, reflecting the effort of attention to details.  Her beauty was her own contribution to our gathering.  Even at eighty years old she chose to wear saddle-shoes.  She made me smile even when I didn’t seem to know the reason.  Sue knew life, real life.  She knew love and loss.  She knew delight, wonder and beauty.  Mostly she knew her Lord Jesus.  She created moments that invited you to linger.  With words she could take your breath away.  Her stories engaged your own memories.  She made the simple extraordinary, the extravagant simple.  Time with her never felt finished.  Couldn’t there be more?  Really, just something more to say or share?  Won’t there be more?

Sue was a seer.  Her seeing prompted her curiosity.  Her seeing framed her questions.  Her seeing, her attentive noticing inspired the last question I ever heard her ask.

“What has happened to you?” This was the question with which she greeted me after the service one Covid Sunday.

I had been wondering the same thing over the last month.  “What has happened to me?  What is happening in a way of surprises, unexpected delights, fullness and strength that seems new, even extraordinary?”

The conversation continued, “What do you see?”  “Why do you ask?”

Her answer came with her typical boldness, “I see something different, something new and alive about you.  I see it in your eyes even with your mask.  I see it in your countenance.  You walk more uprightly.  I hear it in your voice, especially as you read the Gospel this morning.  What is it?”

Her questions and her observations gave me permission to name what has begun to fill my life in new and unexpected ways.  “I think it is joy!  The joy of the Lord.  It is His gift to me in this season.  It is sweet like all His fruit.  It is indescribable, crazy and kind of unreal.”

I shared my vision, my prayer that God would bring a revival prompted by joy among His people.  I thanked her for seeing, for wondering, for saying what she saw. 

It was such a brief, but now precious encounter.  So like Sue.  As she moved out the door, I longed for more.  I still long for more.

I remember as she left standing breathless with wonder at the gift she had given me.  Her words, her questions had been used by God to confirm to me the evidence of His love, His presence and gifting in my own life.  Her curiosity gave me space to name, to voice, to testify of the deeper goodness and kindness that I was beginning to know.  She was God’s means of calling me more confidently to declare my heart, my vision, my longing.

It was just a moment, just a question.  But in that moment she spoke for God, “I see you.  I bless you.”   Today our conversation remains unfinished.  There must be more.  Really there won’t be another time?  Maybe, in the legacy of the words she wrote we can accept her invitation to continue to wonder, to remember, to delight with her in the goodness of our God’s great love and joy. 

Well done!  Good and faithful servant.  I am sure you have entered into the fullness of His joy.  Now you stand as part of the great cloud of witnesses that cheer us on our journey of faith.  I am glad to know you are there.  I believe you are still seeing.  I imagine you are caught-up in indescribable wonder.  I am sure you are captured by the love you trusted your life with.

I expect there will rejoicing at our reunion.

Mel’s Song

Sean O’Neil

I wrote this song about seven years ago. I played it as an offertory back when Andene and I had only been at Church of the Cross for perhaps a year or so. I remember being pretty nervous because I hadn't played music in front of large groups more than a handful of times. Whether Mel picked up on my nervousness or he just really liked the song, he came up to me after the service and poured out his compliments in a way only Mel could do. He was generous and even disciplined with his encouragement—like something he took on as a joyful occupation.

I'm sure hundreds or perhaps thousands of people have a story like that about Mel. Worshipping with him and Sue nearly every Sunday for close to a decade shaped me in ways that I didn't quite realize until they passed. I'm eternally grateful for that. I never did have a name for that song but I always thought of Mel when I've played it since. So I just call it Mel's song.

Trial

Bolt Moore

watercolor

Holy Untouchable Splendor

Carol Smith

In sorting some papers out of my Bible a little while ago, I came across “Holy, Untouchable Splendor” by Daniel Bixby (a member of our Cross family). The words are powerful and describe the God Mel and Sue worshipped. I submit these words as an encouragement to the congregation.

Holy, untouchable splendor; Holy unspeakable wonder!
Holy unequaled in power, sovreign God!
Infinite knowledge and wisdom; Beautiful, marvelous ruler;
Righteous, transcendent in glory! O great God!

Shielded from truth by our blindness; Loving ourselves to destruction;
Hopelessly wandring in darkness without God.
Then we were pierce by His Spirit; Grace opened eyes saw Perfection
bleeding with wounds of redemption, O Great God!

Refrain: Holy, holy, holy, God.
Offered once in our place, Jesus pleads for His own
Holy, holy, holy, God.
By the blood of Your Son, we approach Your great throne!
Holy, holy, holy God!

— song by Daniel Bixby

Pysanky eggs

Clara Jacobs

dye & wax

Substance

Sherry Hall

I did not know Sue for long, but had the privilege of sitting with her around Barb and Andre LaTondresse's dining table with a group of others who love to put significant ideas on paper and then share them with others. My first impression of Sue was that she was a lady with beautiful hair and an aura of substance. She was someone you wanted to know better. She was confident and approachable. She expressed deep thoughts yet shared a ready laugh. Her faith and family were foremost, and I believe I would have found her to be a good friend, had I had the opportunity. We shared a fleeting friendship in life, and will share a joyous sisterhood for eternity. My heart goes out to all of you who were privileged to hold Sue as a treasured family member and dear friend.

Eternal Weight of Glory

Pam Keske

pen and watercolor pencil