On the Christian calendar November 1 is celebrated as “All Saints Day.” The practice began in the 4th century to commemorate the martyrs who had died for the faith. Over time, it developed as a celebration of all the saints of the church, whether known or unknown. In Roman Catholic theology, the day commemorates all those who have been officially designated saints. Not only in Roman Catholicism, it is celebrated on November 1 by many Protestant churches in the Lutheran, Anglican, and Methodist traditions. In these churches, the tradition has evolved, to simply remembering those who have died during the past year. Many churches celebrate All Saints Sunday, on the Sunday immediately preceding or following November. 1.
So there is a sense in which this time of year is a time when we remember “saints,” persons no longer living, who contributed meaningfully to us.
Thinking and writing about “saints” is not a new practice for me; in fact, I have written three books: Keeping Company With the Saints, Lessons from the Saints, and recently published, Saints Alive!. As you would guess, the persons about whom I write, and from whom I suggest we learn, are well known persons whose wisdom has been preserved through the centuries. I write today about two people whose names are probably not known even by my closest friends, my mother and father, Murdoc and Cora Dunnam. In my adult years and their last years, I affectionately called them, “Co-bell” and “Mutt.” For me, they vividly personified “the salt of the earth.”
During this “All Saints” season I remember their death and a monumental lesson they taught me. It was actually “in their dying” that the lesson was so pronounced. Three of us children and our father gathered around Co-bell’s bed, knowing this was it…she had suffered much and we knew the end was near. We sang some of the old gospel hymns we had sung together in church and at home. We told her what she meant to us, and struggled to voice how much we loved her. Mutt sang with us as he always had, but he didn’t say much which was always the case; he was not a “talker.” He simply held her hands as the rest of us laid hands on her wherever we could.
Though she struggled to breathe, Co-Bell seemed to relax, opened her eyes, looked around as if to know who was there, and then looked directly at Mutt. I don’t think I imagined it; a smile came on her weary face; then, with all the energy she could muster, she said to him, “I’ll see you.” The moment of silence that followed was heavy and seemed far longer than it was. With solid conviction and deep-felt emotion, Mutt responded, “I’ll be there.” No one missed what was being said!
Co-Bell’s words, I’ll see you,” are inscribed on her tombstone; Mutt’s words, I’ll be there,” are inscribed on his.
In our family, we have talked about it since, and sometimes we break into singing some of the Gospel songs we sang that night
When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be
How beautiful Heaven must be, Sweet home of the happy and free
As I have remembered Mutt and Co-Bell this “All Saints” season and their exchange (I’ll see you…I’ll be there) the song that has been most present is
I’ll meet you in the morning by the bright riverside
When all sorrow has drifted away
I’ll be standin’ at the portals when the gates open wide
At the close of life’s long dreary day
Though we are to live fully this day, I’m not going to forget there is an eternity of days beyond these earthly ones. We do ourselves a great favor, maybe a life and death one, by contemplating how we will spend those days beyond these earthly ones. The big question is, how does my relationship with God determine that?
The inspirational photo linked HERE is of a painting by my daughter, Kerry Peeples. She has done a series she calls her “Ghost” series If you look closely, you will see two persons–for me, Co-Bell and Mutt. For you, who?
You can see some of the paintings in the series at kerrypeeples.com