If I Were There...

It’s 1:16 am, Korean standard time. Somewhere between the coffee late in the day and the coming funeral of my dear Grandpa, Glen William Michael, is coming and I now have two broken hearts. First, because I lost not just a grandpa (my second and last grandpa actually) but a friend. Second, because I can’t attend the funeral because of COVID-19. I always hoped I’d be officiating at Grandpa’s funeral and now I can’t even attend. But I know he is in good hands, better hands, with the minister officiating, the Reverend Jim Crist.

Even if I couldn’t officiate I imagined I’d be able to say something at Grandpa’s funeral. Just so you know, I’m still having a hard time associating those two words. It all seems so surreal. Somewhere between my association between Missouri (a.k.a. the show-me state) and my identification with Thomas (arguably the greatest disciple who went from doubting the resurrection of Jesus to being executed as one of Jesus’ apostles according to legend), I’ve always viewed it as vitally necessary to attend the funeral and see the body with my own two eyes. Well, perhaps for the first time I have to believe the oral and written testimony of those around me and just so you know, I’m not doing so well with that!

So, if I had the privilege of being able to stand in front, this is what I would say. Not to be a spoiler but I believe there are some mysteries about Grandpa’s life that need revealing. Okay, so I think I know something about Grandpa that nobody else does and it’s probably, no it’s certainly not true, could you please humor me as I go through this grieving process. Since I’m writing, I can’t guarantee you anything short and since this will probably not be read at Grandpa’s funeral, I don’t intend to please. Without further ado, this is on your behalf, Grandpa. I hope I don’t screw it up.

I’ll never forget after I lost my paternal grandfather, Erwin Dirks. I only have two memories of him. Both are good. Anyway, shortly after he passed away my family and I visited the Michaels, Glen and Eva Michael, my maternal grandma and grandpa (I’ve chucked the formal language of “grandmother and grandfather” because it just feels weird to refer to two of my closest friends this way). We were sitting at the table joyfully eating as we often did. I was sitting at the designated kids table which was a card table. My cousin Katie Michael (now Katie Arvizo) was sitting across from me. I’m guessing her younger brother, my cousin, Scott was sitting to the right and my brother Bruce was sitting to the left. I don’t remember. But I asked Katie, “Did you hear about my grandpa passing away?” Her response: “Yeah. I hope Grandpa Michael never dies.”

If you had the privilege of knowing Glen Michael, you know the power behind that statement. And if you are one of his grandkids you know the power of that expectation. Look! I’m 42 years old and I still have that expectation.

I’m thankful I had time to prepare for this, though I’m not sure I did the most appropriate things. I beg your pardon for feeling guilty. If you’ve ever lost a loved one, perhaps you know what I mean. If not, consider yourself blessed. 

Still, even though I got 4 more weeks or so to adjust, it’s still hard. A friend of mine told me I should write him a letter with my three happiest memories. I couldn’t think of just three. They’re all connected. Asking me to pick out three is like taking them totally out of context. 

Case in point, I tried eating Grandpa’s favorite candy, Peanut M & M’s. Well, let me tell you the basket case I became. My son and I had the quietest shower ever and after he stepped out of the bathroom I let loose, except for the bawling part. Then a few days later, I was listening to a Christian radio station in Korean and they played the song, “Give Me Jesus” by Fernando Ortega. I didn’t expect a contemporary song to rile me up. As far as I know, Grandpa wasn’t a fan of contemporary music and neither am I. But this was a special version with Billy Graham talking in the background about his wife, Ruth, after she passed away and the celebration he believed took place in heaven. Here we go again. Not quite as dramatic as the M & M’s but that’s probably because I’m not comfortable crying in front of my family. 

And I suppose that sums it up. From M & M’s to Christian worship, Grandpa was quite a guy. I don’t remember awkward moments of silent with Grandpa. I remember going from lighthearted to serious conversations but they weren’t staged. Grandpa didn’t say, “Okay let’s talk spiritual.” Those conversations just came. I saw Grandpa have different emotions. I saw him laugh so hard he cried. I saw him cry over the loss of a dog named Beiner that got hit by a bus. And I saw him grieve the loss of the love of his wife to the point that he asked me to pray in front of the family because as he said, “…he just couldn’t.” 

Just so you know, I can hardly see the computer screen right now. I hope you’re doing okay. 

Oh sure. Grandpa got mad at me. When I was a pretty small kid, though not a toddler, I was trying to have a sword fight with tumbleweeds. I’m about as coordinated as…I don’t know. Let me tell you how uncoordinated I am. I tried to have a tumbleweed fight with my cousin Scott Michael and I ended up getting too close and scratching his face. Well, if you were the grandfather of such an even-tempered guy and he were your youngest grandson, you’d do the same thing. Yes, Grandpa got mad at me and even attempted to withhold Kool-Aid from me. But don’t worry. Grandma Michael was there to save the day. 

As Grandpa aged and lost more and more of his mental state, I got the brunt of it. When I drove too fast (I think I was going the speed limit) he told me to slow down. Once I called and we were both confused as I was in South Korea and he was in America and neither of us expected to hear the other person and he thought I was a prankster. The last time I talked to Grandpa on the phone (I got to see him one last time after that) he thought I was calling to get “my part” of the inheritance. I just told him, “I don’t want your money. You’re my friend.” And when I visited him last after he seemed to think I fly airplanes (I guess he subconsciously thought I fly a lot. He didn’t think he knew many people who had seen the Pacific Ocean and the Atlantic in the same day) and he asked me to write down my name and address on paper, I wondered if he knew me. But the way he looked at me suggested otherwise. Please don’t burst my bubble if I was wrong.

Grandpa never told me, “I love you.” I told him plenty of times and he would say, “Yep.” And that was okay. He communicated love to me in a way I needed. He didn’t talk love to me. He just did it. Now I know some here are going to say that it was Grandma’s doing that made him come to Greeley so often and it was her doing that they called so much. And that’s fine. After all, when my wife Sinae Park-Dirks asked him what his secret was to a long life his answer was, “I had a good wife.” 

So you really want to know about my three most unforgettable memories with Grandpa, eh? Well, here we go. 

As you probably know, Grandpa had a hearing problem, allegedly due to his years in the tractor with no headphones. That was all it took for the whole family to get a good laugh. I remember driving to the Garretson reunion in Windsor (I don’t remember exactly where it was) and we’d be talking, having a good time as always. Somebody like Grandma would be saying something and Grandpa couldn’t hear so he’d ask her to repeat herself so many times that she’d just yell it out or he’d say a word that sounded like it and then Grandma would yell out what she was saying like she was getting mad and I tell you the truth, I think she and Jeff were the only ones who got away with that. I’d say a lot of our laughter happened from those times. There would be those moments when Grandma would get strong with him. It didn’t ruin his day. He’d just respond with, “Gracious!” And then Grandma would start laughing and explain why she raised her voice. If you knew her, you’d understand that she was sweeter than the day was long.

Speaking of Grandma and Grandpa, they really were my lifeline. Probably the hardest time in my life besides my ruptured appendicitis was when I went to college. I had attended Eastern Nazarene College on the east coast and was having a hard time making friends. I almost transferred to a Northwest Nazarene University in Idaho. Well, eventually I did but the switch was more calculated. Prior to the real deal, I almost transferred over a weekend. It was so ridiculous that my boss didn’t know if I’d be showing up to work the next day. I called Grandma and Grandpa about it and they just talked me through it but they acted as if they didn’t have a clue what to do. So I hung up the phone, thought about it and decided to stick it out. I called them back. Then I remember Grandma saying, “We were hoping you’d decide that way.” When I asked why they didn’t say so earlier they responded, “It’s your life. You have to decide.” That was huge to me that they trusted me to make the right decision.

While we’re talking about college, after I transferred I was confused as ever about what I believed. I think that was a conversation that neither of them could really relate to, the question of whether or not God existed. But Grandpa had an answer. He gave the greatest argument for God’s existence, “that than which nothing greater can be conceived.” No, not in those words but pretty-much the same concept. He couldn’t imagine this world being created without God’s doing it.

Well, go a little further on to seminary when I was still confused not about God but about Christianity. I came across "post liberal retrieval” through a conversation with the president of the seminary I attended, Nazarene Theological Seminary and I thought of the Michael family headed up by Grandma and Grandpa Michael. Grandpa was strict about not drinking alcohol and I thought about his life and how full of laughter it was and how alcohol had no part in it. And I thought to myself, “Who am I to discredit the faith of people like Grandpa who lived out his faith in God through Christ by the Holy Spirit day in and day out?” 

I said three but it’s hard to stop. Grandpa loved stories. He told them well and laughed and he liked listening to funny stories, especially from preachers. Well, Grandpa had his own funny stories, like when he got pulled over in Colorado Springs because the police mistook him for someone else. He also had his own life experiences to draw from. His advice about relationship quarrels was very succinct: “Leave her alone.”

I really could go on and on. Grandpa loved people. He could be in a crowd of people and even if he wasn’t the center of attention he enjoyed listening. Even in the later years when his hearing got worse and worse and he couldn’t hear people talk in a crowded restaurant because his hearing aid picked up all the background noise, he still met people. 

Sure. Grandpa had his own prejudices. But you know what, he didn’t hide them. And that may have set some of us young folk off from time to time but let’s be honest. He saw major social transformation from 1926 to 2020. And he’d speak to people, whether he was prejudice or not. 

Grandpa had a weakness. He couldn’t express his love to his family, the ones he loved most. I told you he showed me love just the way I needed it. But sometimes the people who mattered the most needed to hear it from his mouth. 

My mom, Marilyn Dirks, had to have an urgent surgery that was a matter of life and death. She called Grandpa before they took her in. He headed into Greeley to check in on her. She told him she loved him, a habit she picked up after Grandma passed away. He told me as we spent lots of time together, “Brent, don’t you think I could say those three simple words?” Of course he was talking about, “I love you.” Mom, Grandpa loved you.

There was a farmer in Holyoke that he really admired. He would tell people he was a good farmer. I heard it time again. I’d relay the message but I guess it’s just not the same as hearing it from the horse’s mouth. Uncle LeRoy, Grandpa was proud of you and he recognized you as a good farmer. And I dare say, a good son.

Uncle Jeff, you came later on. You know Grandpa harped on you a lot. I personally think it was his way of showing his affection for you. And Sinae saw it the moment she met everybody, that you are the apple of Grandpa’s eye.

I don’t want to quit. Grandpa had an amazing story. He said that when he went into the army his prayer was that he’d return safely. I don’t know the details but from what I understand he was assigned to go to the front lines where he’d most likely be shot down by the enemy and at that moment the war was declared ended. But that experience gave Grandpa a richness and an appreciation for other countries and cultures and languages that I don’t think he would’ve had before.

My wife Sinae, remembers an encounter something like this.

Grandpa: Howdy. Nice to meet you.

Sinae: Nice to meet you too.

Grandpa: Can you speak Korean?

Sinae: Yes.

Grandpa: Can you count to ten?

Sinae: Il, ee, sam, sa, oh, yuk, chil, pal, gu, ship.

Grandpa: How do you say thank you?

Sinae: Kamsahamnida.

Grandpa: Can you speak German?

Sinae: No.

Grandpa: Ine, swy, thry, fere, fiem, oct, noin, sain.

He wanted to connect with Sinae with his knowledge of different languages. It lost its impact when Sinae couldn’t speak German. Grandpa went on to teach her how to say thank you and you’re welcome in formal German and he even recited a Chinese sentence he learned in his younger days from a missionary to China.

There is a lesson from Grandpa’s life. I was thinking recently (I think a lot about every jot and tittle about Grandpa these days) and there was something about his aroma. The way he smelled. The way he talked. The way he walked. There was a day when he walked faster than me when I had to have two abdominal surgeries. I never thought I’d see that day. But you know what, I miss that walk.

My heart is really broken. I’ve lost one of my lifelines. When life got hard I always knew Grandpa was cheering for me. That last phone call, he forgot some things but he asked me, “Are you preaching?” And he didn’t mean in it a condescending way. That was my dream and something he and my dad always encouraged me to do. 

There’s a whole lot I don’t know. But one thing I do know is that he had a hotline to God. I don’t mean that in a way that made him unique to everyone else. He wanted everyone to have that same hotline. He was honest about questions he had which made us able to talk when I was in a spiritual wilderness. And I hope that as we go forward that we won’t forget him (At this point I can’t imagine that happening) and I guess I want to say especially to my cousins but to us all: let’s press forward and live the life he emulated in a savior who testified that “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain” and now I’m talking to myself: “Let’s not be hindered by the sin that so easily entangles but therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses including Glen William Michael, let us run the race marked out for us with perseverance, fixing our eyes not on Grandpa but on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” For “to live is Christ and to die is gain.”

See ya on the other side, Grandpa. Pray for me that I can emulate 2 Timothy 2:15, your favorite verse, Grandpa. “Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth."

A Long Life

It seems this is my go-to place for crises events. And my purpose for writing this post is no different. Perhaps I am in shock but I feel at peace regarding the passing of my friend and grandfather, Glen William Michael. A quick Google search pulls up his address in the country where he was not able to live for some time. He has spent the last several years in the nursing home. He has been enduring recovery from some type of a hip surgery (some type means he didn't have his full hip replaced). Three or four weeks ago, he started this fight for recovery. He hit a few hard spots in the road and with a fight against UTI and his kidneys (allegedly), without knowing the official cause of his death, he passed away today, Thursday, July 30th, 2020 at 2:00pm, or somewhere around there. I always figured that as long as he and my lifelong pastor, Jim Christy, were around, I could endure life in this cold cruel world and now I have lost one of my lifelines (my Grandma Eva Michael was one of those but she passed away some time ago, in the early 2000s, perhaps around 2002). One of my friends told me to write him a letter (I never got around to that since I was told he wasn't able to read and had lost his recognition of people he saw frequently, let alone someone like me who was only able to visit him once every few years as a result of living abroad) and tell him my three favorite memories about him. That is just two hard to do. So instead, I think I'll spend the coming days writing a memory a day. I'll also post a link to his obituary when that comes out. For now, I'm going to start with three memories that come to mind. 1. He did a headstand when I was a kid which impressed me because even in his fifties or sixties he was better at it than me. 2. His walk. There was something graceful about his walk. With knee problems which he said went back to his football days in college, he was a bit of a slow walker but he surpassed me when I was recovering from my second surgery where I was treated for a ruptured appendicitis. 3. Devotions with Grandma and Grandpa. This is the most meaningful memory I have because Grandma and Grandpa Michael let me into their most personal space, their spiritual life. We would read the bible and "Our Daily Bread" and then we'd each say a prayer. Grandma's prayer was pretty routine and reverent, praying for all of their three kids and their families. I think she would start with something like, "We thank thee our heavenly Father..." I don't remember how Grandpa would start but I remember he would always use King James English which I loved to hear because it reminded me of how high above us God is and how much Grandpa feared (aka respected) God. I know we have lots of speculations and so-called experiences of the after-life. I'm not going to be presumptuous but I'm going to follow the advice of one of my philosophy professors who said, "We entrust our loved ones to our heavenly father" and so I give my beloved Grandpa Michael to God Almighty, who knows how much Grandpa feared and loved/fears and loves God.

Goodbye Friend

I sit here in shock tonight as I have heard the news that my second cousin once removed (my dad's cousin) has passed away. I tried to reach him by phone and he didn't answer. I tried to text him several times but I never received a response. It's funny how these kinds of events make one re-examine one's choices. I recently visited the US with my wife, son and mother-in-law. At that time it seemed so much more important to visit Los Angeles, Hollywood, San Francisco, Yosemite National Park, family in Colorado and the Grand Canyon than it was to say goodbye to a relative who was more like a friend. I heard the 3-month prognosis but I guess I naively assumed it would be longer than 3 months. Oh, how things would be different if I had only known. His name was Ward Dirks. I was told long ago that he and I were a lot alike in our personalities. I thought that was cool. And we always had a lot to talk about. I wasn't sure we always agreed politically, but that didn't seem to be the most important thing. What was important to Ward was people knowing God, in Christ, by the Holy Spirit. If there is one word I'd use to describe my relationship with Ward it would be, "support." There are two events in my life that he and my Great Aunt Jeannine were supportive of: (1) Graduation from seminary and (2) applying for an associate pastor position in Ohio. We talked many times after that, but unfortunately not enough. It was difficult to manage the time difference between South Korea and Indiana so we talked once on a holiday. I've been so far removed from the situation that I didn't realize how far downhill he'd gone until I saw a picture on Facebook. Then when I heard the news from my brother Bruce today it was another shock. Then seeing a picture with his older daughter bidding farewell it really hit home. What I really need is a shoulder to cry on but I don't get that luxury living so far away from any family member who feels the same pain. So I express it here. I always doubt whether I can make much of a difference in this world but when I think of people like Ward, I guess I'm convinced that I'm wrong, that one person can indeed make a difference. I can't help but look at the lessons of Ward's life. We tend to dwell on the goodness of people when they die but the fact is none of us is perfect and I think it's fair to say Ward had his wild times in his younger days. I don't know when the change happened but I do believe he found the abundant life Jesus spoke of as recorded in the New Testament. I believe it was John Wesley who said something to the effect of, "Don't just show me your theology but show me the life behind your theology and then I'll believe it." And I think Ward would bid us all to take another look at what we're doing and why. And for those who were closest to him, it is a reminder that we don't have to go down the same wild path to find true life but we can learn from his life and we can start down the narrow road sooner and go down it longer. Whether or not that means we get a longer life or not, that seems inconsequential. Because as was said of another friend who passed away sooner than one would expect, "It is not the years in your life that count but the life in your years." So here's to Ward and a more meaningful, deeper plunge into the abundant life without all the detours that take us away from the abundant life.

A Fundraiser For An Individual

I am writing this post long after I should have. You see, I'm trying to raise money for a friend who is studying at the university where I teach and lead an international ministry. He is somewhat involved in that ministry. He received the dreaded news that his father had passed away without being able to say goodbye to his dad. I thought we'd have more time to raise money but it turns out that his family has changed the funeral date without much consent from him and the difficulties of him buying a ticket previously and having to pay $80 to change his flight ticket. On top of that, he has the burden of paying for the funeral costs. We are trying to raise money for him and cannot do it without your help. I know the dilemmas of donating. We always wonder where our money is going and whether or not it is a scam. Believe me, I've been reticent to give in the past, myself. But I believe he is worth the risk. This may sound like a scam but it is not. He's just in a less than ideal situation and needs our help. If you are inclined to give, please visit this website. https://www.crowdrise.com/flight-home-to-attend-dads-funeral-and-family-contribution/fundraiser/brentdirks And if you are not, please pray that God will incline others to give so he can be with his family during this time burden-free. Thanks!

"Foreigner"

I have lived in South Korea for over eight years now and there is still one word that gives me goosebumps every time I hear it: "foreigner". I remember when I first came here and I had children call me 외국인 (the Korean word for "foreigner). I eventually called them 한국인 (the Korean word for "Korean") but I don't think it had the same effect. Within the last few years, I've heard students speak of the people who are citizens of the countries they visit (i.e. the UK) as "foreigners" and I remind them that when they went to the UK they were the "foreigners". I took the picture above when I was in a bit of a bad mood. I don't remember the issue but obviously I felt sour about Koreans and general. I took this picture at the largest amusement/theme park in South Korea called "Everland". I presume the intention was originally good that there is a special place for people from other countries to get assistance. But while recognizing the potentially good intention, being in a bad mood it made me think of this almost as segregation like, "The same office that serves Koreans can't serve non-Koreans". I think I'm going to show students this picture as evidence that there are others ways to go about this. I recommend saying "people from other countries" or "non-Koreans". Even though non-Koreans living in South Korea refer to themselves as foreigners sometimes I think this expression should be avoided especially in professional cirucmstances. Instead of "foreigners" why not say, "International Assistance"? Or better yet, why not have the same office serve people from all countries, including South Koreans? If English truly is as important as South Koreans seem to think it is, that wouldn't be an unrealistic expectation.

A Grace-filled Day!

I used to post everything that was going on, on my blog. I even think that some of my former colleagues read what I wrote here and misunderstood. That along with hearing news about people whose careers had ended because of social networking made me think I should be more careful about what I post. As I was thinking about today, it dawned on me that I should write about something good that happened to me today. It is all rather mysterious. I went to sleep late last night (2am) and woke up at 8am this morning. I expected it to be a rough day (sleep deprivation and attending church in a foreign language don't usually end well for me). But it turned out to be a good day. Rather than remain seated during my cell group's meeting, I walked around (having a ten-month-old baby has its advantages). This enabled me to interact with more people than I usually do. Then, for the service, rather than assume my position attached to Sinae (my wife) I decided to be bold and leave her and Uri (my ten-month-old son) in the nursery with another mom and baby while I participated in the worship service in the sanctuary. Today, a missionary serving in Oman spoke. I certainly couldn't understand everything but I just had a sense of what he must be struggling with as I considered my struggles in South Korea and how my struggles are probably nothing compared to what he experiences. After that we had lunch together (without my cell group leader because he had a meeting). For some crazy reason I was really energetic and had a good time. Eventually Sinae and the other two ladies got into an historical (or perhaps hysterical) conversation. I decided to bow out, realize I wouldn't be able to understand and just enjoyed the moment with Uri. After that, we headed home and dropped by a coffee shop to see a couple we've become friends with. She's Korean and he's American so both Sinae and I were comfortable talking to the other person from our home country in our native language. They are getting ready to have a baby and it was interesting hearing their perspective (by the way, we really didn't talk about the baby all that much, at least not us guys). We then came home and I gave Uri a bath. Not too long after that he fell asleep and I revised the script for my club tomorrow which I first wrote in English based on the "Lifetree Cafe" ministry video put out by Group Publishing. Perhaps I can talk about that process next time. The script is in Korean and English so I had to ask lots of language exchange partners for help. They have been very generous. Here's to more days like this. I give the triune God honor and glory for today and pray for more of these to come.

Touched

I tried assigning students a portfolio this semester for the first time. Rather than having students submit a portfolio for me to sort through later, they had to show it to me during class. I've only done one day of this and the results were surprising. Three students in particular stand out: Suhyeon, Yuncheol and Hyunjoon. Suhyeon first struck me as a student who wasn't all that interested in class. While that made me uncomfortable I kept trying to have conversation with her as well as other students on a one-on-one basis. Little-by-little she seemed to open up. I was surprised to hear her tell me via her "My Section" in her portfolio that she enjoyed the class because I made it fun and that she was sad to see the class end. Yuncheol had a much more dramatic "My Section" in which he explained his background and why he isn't as good as other students at speaking English. He was a student I had serious misunderstandings about during the early part of the semester. That all changed when he told me about his personal life, including preparation for his wedding. At that point I realized I totally misunderstood him. But after hearing him talk during his portfolio time I realized how devastating it must be when I get upset with students. I've tried over and over not to get upset but I fail every semester. Hyunjoon's discussion was less dramatic but his point was similar. Apparently I got frustrated with him especially during quizzes when he wasn't able to produce the target language. I seriously think I overlooked this student because he isn't as dynamic as other students. He said during his portfolio time that he also felt frustrated with himself. I remembered that I was just like him when I was a student but my professors didn't get mad at me. I wasn't sure how the portfolio thing would work out but I really like it because it gives students a chance to express themselves in ways they couldn't during the semester. I really hope these three students will become instruments to remind me of the devastating effects anger from a foreigner can have on Korean students. I've been thinking a lot about God's voice lately. I didn't hear God's voice audibly but I most certainly heard God saying to me, "See what happens when you get angry with students?" I also heard God saying, "See what an opportunity you have?" I've been thinking a lot about conversation ever since I took a Continuing Education class on evangelism where the focus was on building relationships with people in such a way that I earn the right for people to listen to me. I've been struggling with the realization that I myself am not very good at building relationships which makes it very ironic that I am teaching conversation classes. I hear God saying, "Instead of wishing you could be somewhere else or do something else make the most of the opportunity to learn how to have conversations with students."