Thanks for the Memories, Dad...

It's finally here! My Dad's last book Memories of His Mercy, published five years posthumously, just arrived on my doorstep...

Memories of His Mercy, by Fr. Peter Gillquist, is available from Ancient Faith Publishing.

It's a true labor of love, and feels like a gift from him (and Ancient Faith Publishing) to our family.  But although it's a treasure for us, my father's motivation in writing it was "to share with other people the faithfulness of God in a way that I hope will motivate them to trust in Him more than they do now". 

Dad thought about doing this book for a long time.  Finally, early in 2012, he dictated most of the chapters in a recording session at his home with John Maddex, CEO of Ancient Faith Ministries.  

But in June of that same year, Dad was told by his doctors that (after thirteen years) his metastatic melanoma cancer had returned, was already in stage 4, and was untreatable.

My father had hoped finish work on the manuscript before his death, but his health declined too rapidly. After Dad's passing, John talked with my brother Greg about the recordings and Dad's wishes, saying we could proceed if and when we were ready. 

John sent us the audio files of Dad's dictation. How comforting our father's voice sounded to my mom, siblings, and me as we were able to listen to the recordings on our home computers!

Last Father's Day - it had been four years since Dad's death - we finally felt ready to begin the process of honoring Dad's wishes in getting his book published.  I called my mom and she said my brother, Fr. Peter Jon, just that morning, had mentioned the book too. 

We knew the project would bring emotions and require much attention: delving into the manuscript, organizing the chapters, and finding someone to help in compiling and doing the work of editing the material.  

God brought us the perfect person for the job: Ginny Nieuwsma, a sincere, tender-hearted woman and gifted editor who knew and loved my Dad.  We felt very confident in trusting her with his manuscript. 

Memories of His Mercy is really a framework to Dad's prior best-selling book, Becoming Orthodox - it's pretty much "the rest of the story": a remembrance of God's mercy throughout my father's life. 

Ginny seamlessly pieced together and edited the chapters, and we contributed clarification and family photos - starting with my father's earliest childhood memories, to meeting my mom, to their work in Campus Crusade for Christ, their first fixer-upper, and then Dad's years at Thomas Nelson (and meeting Johnny Cash), the Orthodox Study Bible, and Dad's fight with cancer.  

The chapters are book-ended by a gracious Foreward, written by one of my Dad's dearest friends, my father-in-law V. Rev Jon Braun, and an Epilogue, written by my mother, Marilyn. She reflects on their last move -  to Bloomington, IN - and recounts the weeks leading up to my father's repose.  

At the very end of the book you'll find several tributes (the first from Fr. Gordon Walker, of blessed memory), and an interview with my Dad, reprinted from AGAIN Magazine.

I hope you'll enjoy this labor of love from my Dad and all the people from Ancient Faith Publishing (with special thanks to John, Ginny, Katherine, Carla, Matt, and Melinda), who worked tirelessly to make this book available to you.

ORDER

End of Day: 10 Years Without the Man in Black

Ten years ago today the world lost a great man: singer and songwriter Johnny Cash, fondly known as "The Man in Black".  My dad, Fr. Peter Gillquist, was the ghostwriter for Cash's autobiography, which bears Cash's nickname.

Man in Black - published by Zondervan in1975

I’ll never forget the road trip our family made to Nashville, Tennessee, back in the 1970's when my dad was working with Johnny (he didn't want any of us to call him "Mr. Cash") on the book. We drove up to his office, the "House of Cash", in Hendersonville, and Dad parked the car. Dad got out, giving the six of us siblings explicit instructions to “stay in the car, kids”.

The "House of Cash" as I remember it - info
(photo source here)

But suddenly Johnny Cash was coming out the front door, walking right toward the car - tall, smiling, and dressed completely in black (of course).  Much to my father’s chagrin, my brother and I opened the back doors of the car and immediately hopped out, right at Dad’s heels. I guess neither of us wanted the other one to be the first of us kids to shake Johnny Cash’s hand!

Later, we drove over to the Cash's beautiful lakeside home (which has since unfortunately burned down) to quickly be introduced to June and John Carter.

Cash in front of their home, 1969 - THE TENNESSEAN/AP

The inside of their home looked like a beautiful log cabin.  June Carter came downstairs to meet us, her hair wrapped in a bath towel.  She'd just gotten out of the shower! (My mom later said she wished she could be that comfortable with guests!)

Today I happened to find this blog by Andreas Koutsoudis, with an article posted about Johnny Cash's faith, titled "Inside the Complicated Faith of Johnny Cash", by Dave Urbanski (originally written for Relevant Magazine, February 26, 2013).

Andreas also posted several good YouTube links to some great Johnny Cash songs, and also mentioned my Dad's involvement with the Man in Black book.

For the record, Dad was not a fan of the movie, Walk the Line, because it left out so much of Johnny and June Carter's strong Christian faith.  If you can find it, read the book Man in Black, told in Johnny's own words!!  A great read, for teens and up.

This is a photo that my dad had of Johnny Cash.
I wonder if he's singing "Man in Black"...

"Man in Black" by Johnny Cash

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear the black for those who never read,
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

And, I wear it for the thousands who have died,
Believen' that the Lord was on their side,
I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died,
Believen' that we all were on their side.

Well, there's things that never will be right I know,
And things need changin' everywhere you go,
But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right,
You'll never see me wear a suit of white.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black.

Looking Back: Lessons Learned From Harry Potter

He'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as 
Harry Potter Day in the future – there will be books written about Harry – every 
child in our world will know his name! 
-Prof. McGonagall to Dumbledore 
from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Today marks fifteen years since Scholastic's 1998 U.S. release of J.K. Rowling's first book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  To date there are more than 150 million Harry Potter books in print in the United States alone, with the series regularly hitting the bestseller lists.

How many Harry Potter books have sold worldwide?  450 million!

Because of the subject matter of "witchcraft and wizardry," many Christian parents have concerns about the Harry Potter series.  Are you one of those parents who is unsure of these books about a boy wizard?

source

After the first four Harry Potter books were published, my Dad, Fr. Peter Gillquist (of blessed memory) - an Orthodox priest as well as a writer and editor of Christian books - was often approached by Christian parents who were conflicted about whether these books about magic made "good" reading for their children.

It became obvious that "the Harry Potter books" could not be ignored, so my father wrote an article for AGAIN Magazine in 2001 (Vol. 23, Issue 1, Ancient Faith Publishing), titled "Take a Lesson From Harry Potter".  He began the article by addressing many of the parents' questions, asking,

Why is Rowling touching such a nerve with her books?  What attracts her loyal young readers? More importantly, can we gain some insights from this Harry Potter phenomenon to help us better communicate Christ to those around us, and especially to a generation of young people who are growing up reading these mysteries?

My dad went on to site three areas in which kids relate Harry Potter:  they identify and connect with his family, moral, and supernatural "worlds".  I've attempted to quickly outline Dad's points below...

First of all, there is Harry Potter's family world.  Like Harry, many kids today are lonely and want one-on-one time with their parents.  They may not be orphaned or live in a "Cupboard Under the Stairs", but kids and teens today are aware that there are lots of things competing for their busy parents' attention.

Regarding Harry's moral world, Dad wrote, "Though a wizard, Harry is into doing what's right."  Kids really do want to do the right thing, and they can identify with the difficult choices Harry has to make.  But don't just take my dad's word for it; I read an excellent Wall Street Journal article (2011) that said this:

Harry is a Dickensian archetype, a child of cruelty who inspires in us an urge to make a better world. Alongside Oliver Twist, he is the most celebrated orphan in world literature. Oliver is altogether too perfect, untouched by the evil around him. Harry, more credibly, wrestles with forces of darkness and commands our sympathies.

Lastly, my dad took a look at Harry's supernatural world:  "What kid in America, even in an Orthodox [or Christian] home, doesn't at one time or another wish he could just fly off with his friends and do something else?...We need another kingdom [world].  That's why kids are picking up on Harry Potter."  Dad went on to talk about how we all yearn for another world, and for Christians that will be the Kingdom of God (heaven) someday.  Dad closed out the article with this admonishment:

Moms, make your home a place your children love to be.  Dads: be lovers, be guardians, be leaders. Experience the life of the mysteries of God together as a family...Morally set the mark high on the wall with your children.  If you love them, major strongly in both righteousness and mercy..."But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you" (Matthew 6:33).  Harry Potter should have had it so good!

I will acknowledge that the series gets darker as it goes on (7 books in all).  Our family was lucky - my kids were in junior high when the first book was published, so I didn't have to make a judgement call about the age they were when they started reading the books.   I had heard both positive and negative things about Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  So I read it first.  I loved it, and could hardly wait for my kids to dive in. They grew up right along with Harry, Hermione, and Ron!

Looking for a fun critical study of Harry Potter?  I highly recommend  John Granger's books.  From HogwartsProfessor.com:  "John Granger’s contribution to the crowded world of Harry Potter thinking since 2002 has been his insistence that Harry’s adventures be read as any other very good book rather than dissected as a sui generis phenomenon. This perspective has allowed him to explain how the magic of the books is not a departure from the traditions of English fantasy and, mirabile dictu, is even edifying Christian reading."

To end my post today, I'd like to say that I learned a lot about having hope from my Dad and Harry Potter. My Dad would be the first to say that he could never have made it so far on his life journey (especially his struggle with cancer) had it not been for God's mercy and the prayers of family and friends. And in our church tradition, our friends include the saints of God...

This Christian tradition of patron saints goes back to the time of the early church. Our saints are chosen from among the holy men and women who have gone before us and are now in God's presence, part of that "great cloud of witnesses" described in Hebrews.  Who better to intercede on our behalf?

Does this tradition of patron saints remind any of you of something from the Harry Potter books?  The word patron, which means "defender" or protector", has its origin in the Latin word pater, or "father".

I have to believe J.K. Rowling was inspired by this etymology when she came up with the Patronus idea for the books!  If you recall, she has Harry use an expecto patronum ("awaiting a protector") charm to conjure up a magical shield of hopeful, happy feelings as protection from the Dementors and other dark forces.

Harry teaches his friends who make up "Dumbledore's Army" about the Patronus Charm. He tells them to use "a powerful memory, the happiest you can remember. Allow it to fill you up...just remember, your Patronus can only protect you as long as you stay focused...think of the happiest thing you can."

So I really do think there is a lot we can learn from Harry Potter - about having hope, and relying on the help of our loved ones who are here, as well as those who have gone on before us.

And we have J.K. Rowling to thank for bringing us this literary world of muggles and magic, with an imperfect hero who struggles for hope and chooses good, while looking forward to being reunited with those gone before.

You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think we don’t recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? 

-Albus Dumbledore to Harry Potter

from The Prisoner of Azkaban

This post is dedicated to the memory of my father.  Love you, Dad!

SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY II: NAVIGATING THE LOSS OF OUR GOOD NATURED DADDY BEAR

C.S. Lewis wrote: "grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape."

On the road near Ashburton, Dartmoor in Devon, England, 1982.

As I wrote about in my last post, since my dad's sudden passing away from cancer on July 1st, our family has slowly begun to find our way through the winding valley of grief together.

We take the bends in the road one at a time. This new landscape of separation, dotted with familiar objects that would bring a flood of happy memories along with pangs of loneliness, often feels disorienting:  seeing photos everywhere of Dad vibrant and alive; his handwritten "to do" list on his desk; his customary place next to my mom now empty on the bench where they sat together on the back deck; and his glasses that he'd worn so recently, lying still and unused on the bedside table.

After dad's funeral, as my siblings left one by one, I stayed with my mom, and brother in Indiana for several weeks. We began to allow ourselves to accept this new reality of daily life void of Dad's physical presence, while appreciating the new relationship and eternal presence our family was building with him spiritually.

Separately, though together, Mom and I endured many moments that could have been numbingly empty; but thankfully we experienced the mutual comfort that comes from the tender and honest companionship of another who has been left behind, as well as the blessed grace that is God's gift.

One afternoon, in search of something to read, I pulled out a vaguely familiar volume, bookended with others between a couple of heavy gilded lions on a table that I'd walked past several times a day. The spine bore the title, The Good Natured Bear.

I opened the cover to experience a little jolt of recognition, accompanied by the (lately) ever present feeling of bright sadness, as I read my own handwriting:

To my sweet Daddy Bear -- a present from our Ashburton bookstore.  

Love, Wendy Bear. Christmas '82 

My mom took this photo of me in Dartmoor,
while we were on a family trip to England
when I was 18 years old.

Tears began to flow as I recalled the day I had bought the book.  It was while we were on a family vacation in England during the summer of 1982.  For part of our visit, we stayed in a 17th Century house in the quaint town of Ashburton, which is located on the southern slopes of Dartmoor in the South Devon countryside.

This day, it was raining.  Ever the romantic, Dad, after making us kids some popcorn, had invited Mom to go walking and exploring in the rain. They left, turning down the narrow alleyway which led out to the shops, and around a corner, where they stumbled upon a cozy used bookshop.  They quickly came back and got us kids, and we all spent a fun afternoon browsing through the antique treasures on the bookshelves.

My gift to Dad from the bookstore in Ashburton

The title of the book I bought that day for my dad, and my inscription on the inside cover had a special significance.  For one thing, Dad was truly a "Good Natured Bear".  He was a big man - tall (6'4") - and his very deep voice was full of jovial humor, with a balance of authority and kindness.

Siblings with Dad in the cute town of Ashburton: Me, Ginger, Greg, Terri
and Heidi (our little brother Peter Jon, suffering a bout of chicken pox,
 had to stay hone in California - I think he got a new bicycle out of the deal!)

Not only that, we were "The Bears"!  Dad had adopted the affectionate "Bear Family" moniker after hearing the jazzy Three Bears song, composed by Bobby Troup in the 1950's after the well known children's story. [trivia note: Troup, a Sigma Alpha Epsilon like my father, also wrote Get Your Kicks on Route 66, another of Dad's favorite jazz tunes].

The Three Bears song was made popular by the Page Cavanaugh Trio, Ray Ellington Quartet, and Leon McAuliffe.

With both our parents being wonderful musicians, my brothers and sisters and I were blessed to grow up with lots of music in our home.  Our family was often requested to sing our own fun version (a musical amalgamtion of the two Youtube videos I've embedded) of The Three Bears, for friends.

Mom, a classically trained pianist, wouldn't miss a beat as she'd pound out the tune and sing the "Mama Bear" part, while Dad - in his booming bass voice - was the "Daddy Bear", and we kids were collectively "the little girl with blond hair" (aka Goldilocks) and the "Little Wee Bear".

I love this picture of my dad in the early '70's with his guitar!

Today marks 40 Days since my dad's passing. I'm dedicating this post to my precious Mom, 5 siblings, "GeeGee's" 20 grandchildren, and his soon-to-be-born first great grandson.  We'll never forget our wonderful Daddy Bear!  Memory Eternal!

"Bye, bye, bye," said the Daddy Bear

"Goodbye, bye, bye," said the Mama Bear

"Hey Babba Ree Bear," said the Little Wee Bear...

So ends the story of the Three Little Bears!

Four of us six siblings - Ginger, Greg, Heidi and me - with our
Dad and Mom, being silly in Devon, England, 1982.
[photo taken by my sister, Terri]

COME WITH ME ON A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

Are We There Yet, Dad?
Some of my favorite childhood memories are of summer family road trips with my dad and mom. Dad's varied occupations - first as a college campus ministry director, later as a writer, editor, and publisher, and finally as a priest in the Orthodox Church - required him to travel quite a bit.  

Dad brought the whole family along as often as he could. I recall tooling down Route 66, my dad at the wheel, my mom beside him, with my siblings and me crammed in the backseat.  We kids didn't quite understand the nostalgia of that old highway; we just wanted to get to our destination as soon as possible.

Our impatience would lead to a predictable question: "Are we there yet, Dad?" His truthful, yet disappointing answer in the negative would prompt us to take turns needling him every ten minutes or so, "How much longer until we get there?" - to which he'd finally announce with authority, "Okay, kids, it's time to play The Quiet Game!"

A Final Journey
To my regular readers, it might seem as if I've been playing "The Quiet Game" for the past few weeks, but the reason I've been absent from the world of blogging is that I was on another journey with my dad.  Our last one together on this earth.

In June, Dad was told by his doctors that after thirteen years his metastatic melanoma cancer had returned, was already in stage 4, and was untreatable.

My siblings and I immediately flew out to the Midwest to be with my parents.  I think those days in the hospital were some of the most loving, blessed, and bittersweet moments we have ever had together as a family - full of thanksgiving, tears, hugs, and kisses.

I know a question we all wanted to ask was, "How much longer until we get there, Dad?" Just a week later, Dad was moved to a beautiful hospice facility, and on July 1 we accompanied him to the Gates of Heaven, praying and singing hymns at his bedside.  It was a peaceful moment that I'll never forget.

Measuring Time
A couple of years ago, I came across and saved a tender perspective on the subject of loss, which brought me comfort in facing my father's death.  It’s from Wendell Berry’s book, Andy Catlett, Early Travels.

In this affectionate, fictionalized memoir, Andy (as an elderly narrator and the main character) looks back on his boyhood in rural Kentucky, and reflects on all the family and friends who have been part of his life.

The author, in one of his most poignant passages, describes how time is halved, and how the past and future are not only divided, but connected, by the present moment:

Time is always halved...by the eye blink, the synapse, the immeasurable moment of the present. Time is only the past and maybe the future; the present moment, dividing and connecting them, is eternal...We measure time by its deaths, yes, and by its births. For time is told also by life.  As some depart, others come. The hand opened in farewell remains open in welcome...time that is told by death and birth is held and redeemed by love, which is always present.  Time, then, is told by love’s losses, and by the coming of love, and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost.  It is folded and enfolded and unfolded forever and ever, the love by which the dead are alive and the unborn welcomed into the womb.  The great question for the old and dying, I think, is not if they have loved and been loved enough, but if they have been grateful for love received and given, however much.  No one who has gratitude is the onliest one. Let us pray to be grateful to the last.

While my Dad was in the hospital, I experienced this unique aspect of measuring time not just by death, but by birth, with the present moment dividing and connecting the past and the future.  My daughter, Mary, pregnant with her first child, brought a framed ultrasound picture of her unborn baby to my dad, in order to introduce her grandfather to his first great-grandchild and newest namesake, "Peter".

In grateful silence and awe, I watched as my daughter hugged my dad, and several realizations hit me:  hadn't it been just an "eye blink" ago that my daughter was a baby being introduced to her grandpa?  Now here she was, a grown woman and wife, soon to become a mother, and my first grandchild, still in utero, was present with us as a fourth generation of our family.

On July 1, 2012, my dad passed away amid tearful hugs and goodbyes, and my grandson will soon be born and welcomed with gentle kisses and hellos.  One journey is completed and a new one will begin...