My dad died this past Monday morning. That is him in the photo above (taken before I knew him). He is probably about a year old, so it was taken in 1933. My dad told the story of that day as he heard it from his mother. Just when the photographer was ready to take the picture, a train went by and blew its whistle. Dad raised his finger and said, “Hort!”, which is German for “Listen!”, or “Hear!” It is a cute picture, and in these last years it sat on his end table, along with an old familiar painting of Jesus, a picture of his wife who has been waiting in heaven for his arrival, and other treasured family photographs from his 93 years.
The day after Dad died, I was going through a pile of old family keepsakes. I found the baby book his mother started for him when he was born. There was a page for “Baby’s First Word.” On that page, my grandmother wrote that little Lornie’s first word was “Momma;” and his second word was “Hort!” (If I knew how to do a smiley emoji, I would put one here.)
Last week just before he slipped into a coma, I was with Dad to hear some of his last words. He was very sleepy, and was not adding much to the conversation that was going on around him. We often wondered how much he was understanding– and sometimes we would find out. With a sudden and brief burst of energy he would add a comment that was sometimes witty and wise, sometimes heartwarming, and sometimes laugh-out-loud hilarious. He would then close his eyes again, too tired to say anymore. In one of his last coherent sentences, he left us with some powerful words to live by.
We had been discussing Dad’s wonderful and inspiring generosity. He watched a lot of religious television in his last years, and he was often moved to give to the work of organizations he would hear about. He would ask me to look into the organization, and if I found it to be efficient and trustworthy, he would tell me to send them a check. This generosity became one of the great joys of his later years. So along with contributing to his local church, Dad provided complete funding for the digging of a few water wells in Africa, bought land for a hospital in Bangladesh, and then helped pay for a sewage treatment facility at that hospital. Through Samaritan’s’ Purse, he aided the refugees in Ukraine, supported work among the homeless in the Twin Cities at the Union Gospel Mission, contributed to the building of homes for Wounded Veterans, helped the children at St. Jude’s Hospitals, gave money to a Lutheran Seminary in Vietnam, and gave to a mission organization that averages a new church start somewhere in the world every four hours. Dad loved to tell people about the Navigators for which he sent money– hand-held, solar-powered audio players that contained the entire Bible along with hundreds of hours of Christian teaching. And his favorite charity of all was Minnesota’s own tremendous Feed My Starving Children organization. Thank you letters and phone calls from FMSC would describe how many meals he provided, and how many busloads of children those meals would feed. Dad had owned a school bus company, and it would bring tears of joy to his eyes as he imagined the thousands of busloads of children that were being fed by his contributions.
Now, back to the conversation around the deathbed. We were discussing what I have just been describing to you, with no input or response from Dad—until I heard him struggling to say something. I leaned in closer, and in his weak voice I heard him say, “only what’s done for Christ will last.” I recognized it as part of a longer quote, and I said “Dad, is this what you are trying to say?: ‘Only one life, twill soon be past; Only what’s done for Christ will last.’” He said yes, and was then quiet again. He was not able to speak, but perhaps he was recalling all those ways he tried to serve God. That was the life lesson Dad left with us in some of his last words. And so, as he said in one of his first words, “Hort! Listen!”
Dad discovered the great joy that can be found in being generous with what God had given him. God created us in such a way as to find our greatest enjoyment in being of some use to other people. The first picture was taken in the first year of his life. The photo just above was taken in the last year of his life. Dad wasn’t listening to a train whistle this time, but was pointing upward to the Lord to whom he was always so grateful.
Thanks, Dad, for another good lesson. We learned so many of them from you. Rest in peace.
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Psalm 116:15 — Precious in the sight of the Lord, is the death of his faithful servants.
Matthew 25:21a — (Jesus said), “His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’”
Revelation 22:13 — I heard a voice from heaven say, “Write this: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.” “Yes,” says the Spirit, “they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.”
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O Lord, support us all the day long of this troubled life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes and the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, Lord, in your mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
–Cardinal John Henry Newman (1801-1890)
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Dad’s obituary may be viewed at:
https://www.koldenfuneralhome.com/obituary/Loren-Stier
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The quote Dad was trying to recall was by C. T. Studd (1860-1931). It was part of a longer poem that he had written, and which has been put to music:
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