For Kaz

As many of you know my father-in-law, Kaz Szczepanik, died unexpectedly of a heart attack on September 3. He was 63. This man devoted himself to his family. He hated goodbyes, always shedding tears when he sent his children off to college, a new home, or even a short weekend trip. We shed our tears, and still are shedding them, in saying our goodbye to dad.

His was our fourth funeral in 12 months. The last time I saw my mentor theologian Dr. Walter Bouman as he was nearing death, he would not allow me to say goodbye to him. He said that Germans don't say goodbye; they say auf wiedersehen, which means "until we see again."

Maya, my three year old daughter who is a better theologian than me, reminded me of this last week. As I helped her out of her car seat upon arriving for Dad's first wake, I wanted to prepare her for what she was about to experience. So I asked her, "Maya, do you know what you will see when we go into the funeral home?"

"Yes, Daddy. Papa's body will be there. It will look like he's sleeping, but he's dead. When Jesus comes, he will raise him from the dead, and we'll see him in the resurrection."

Amen. I had nothing to add to help her anticipate the situation. We will see him again. That promise, that hope, that anticipation is what empowers us to continue living as we grieve and to heal as we mourn.

So if my Polish father-in-law will permit me to speak in German for a bit - - Auf Wiedersehen, Dad. We love you. We miss you. See you in God's shalom.