Witness for Norman Chattin, delivered January
5, 2018 at the Celebration of Life Service, Westminster Canterbury, Richmond, VA
On behalf of my mother and myself, thank
you all for joining us to celebrate my Daddy’s life. Daddy always said, “Funerals are for the living,”
and we are honored and comforted by your presence.
Pray with me please: Lord let the
words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts together today be acceptable
in thy sight oh Lord my strength and my redeemer. amen
Faith Family Education
My brother David and I grew up in a LOT
of houses, but in only one home. That was the one with tomatoes growing in the back
yard, our pictures on the wall, and plenty of food in the kitchen.
We heard that education is a top
priority. “There are 3 things no one can ever take away from you. Your faith,
your family, and your education.”
As for the education part—getting a
library card in our family was almost as big of a deal as getting a driver’s license.
Off to camp and beyond
When I was eight, my library card led
me to a book about sleep-away summer camp. There was this kid who went to camp
and made all kinds of new friends and had great adventures and wow, I was
convinced that I needed to go to summer camp and began writing away for
applications.
After eliminating all the camps that
would only take 9-year olds I came upon Camp Kittamaqund—a Girl Scout camp in
North Thumberland County that would take 8-year-olds if they had completed the
third grade.
Score! I had found my summer camp. I
begged and pleaded and Mom and Daddy scraped up the money and I was going away to
camp for 14 days.
As we packed me up with all the
required and suggested items, Daddy would look in on me and say, you don’t have
to go if you don’t want to…you can always change your mind.” I’d say okay, and
quickly reassure him that I REALLY wanted to go.
The day they dropped me off, Daddy
said, “You can always come home, if you want to come home for any reason, you
just have them call and I’ll come get you.” I promised him I would call if I
didn’t want to stay.
The first day of camp we had mail
delivery. I was the only camper who got mail that first day and it came from
Daddy. He said he missed me and don’t forget he’d come get me anytime I wanted
to come home.
Every mail call after that I got a letter
from Daddy, and not only Daddy, but from mom, aunts and cousins and neighbors
and church members. He gave everyone my address and I received mail and canteen
money and bookmarks and funny papers and homemade cookies.
I had a blast. I never once thought
about going home until it was time to go home. When my parents arrived I ran
gleefully into my their arms—covered in mud and grinning from ear to ear.
I went away to some type of summer
camp every year after that until I finished high school. Every time I left
Daddy told me all I had to do was have them call and he’d come get me. And
while I was gone, he wrote to me every day.
Off to College
When it was time to leave for
college-- Daddy once again said I could change my mind at any point and stay
home ( even though I was going to “the family school” --there was always
community college)—and once again told me he would come get me any time. While
I was at Randolph-Macon, he wrote to me at least once a week and often more.
Whenever I called home from school and he answered the phone the first thing
out of his mouth was, “do you need me to come get you?”
I was fearless in the world because I
knew I could always go home. There were times that I did go home, more than
once, without judgement or blame.
That was the foundation of my
education about faith and family.
Back at home
I didn’t always learn from books
either. I learned from people.
We like to say our family didn’t bring home
stray animals, we brought home stray people.
Over
the years there were
·
kids from the Methodist Children’s
Home,
·
younger family members starting out or
returning from their personal journeys,
·
college presidents,
·
missionaries from Africa and India,
· itinerant Christian actors from the
covenant players
·
pregnant teenagers,
·
a traveling salesman from India who
worked for a Hong Kong tailoring company,
·
lonely folks who had experienced loss,
·
wives escaping unhappy homes,
·
Vietnamese war refugees,
·
ministers thinking of joining the
ministry or questioning if they should say in the ministry,
·
my grandmothers would come for a week
or more,
·
couples wanting to be married,
·
various district superintendents,
·
even the Bishop once,
·
and as my brother and I got older we added
to the mix by bringing home
·
foreign exchange students (Hong Kong, Japan,
Italy, Holland, Canada and Buffalo, NY—which could have been as far away as
France all things considered),
·
roommates,
·
fraternity brothers,
·
girlfriends,
·
boyfriends,
·
and my Mom’s personal favorite—the 6
member rock band I brought home one night (turns out one of them was the
grandson of a United Methodist minister that Daddy knew…)
Daddy had a way with people and it
spread into all our lives. He was a good preacher, but he was a great pastoral
minister. He wasn’t one of those “scripture shouters.” He found a way to relate
to folks that made them feel comfortable and accepted.
No one's perfect
Of course there were things he
couldn’t do, and he was usually the first to tell you about them—
As he would say, he could not carry a
tune in a bucket. That didn’t stop him from cheerfully singing along on family
drives or in church (without a mike). He liked to say he knew all the words to two
songs, “Pine Tree” and “Amen.” Those lyrics, in case you hadn’t guessed, were
exactly the same as the title of the songs.
He couldn’t read a map and had no
sense of direction.
He wasn’t an athlete, the only game he
ever taught us was roll-a-bat which is a little like baseball but requires a
lot less skill.
He wasn’t a carpenter or a mechanic.
And—he could not tell a joke. He loved
jokes and always wanted to hear them but when he would start telling one he’d
begin laughing so much that he’d miss the punchline.
Many Gifts
But he COULD get things done. . There
was always an “ease” with the way Daddy did things.
He could have you volunteering for a
task and halfway finished before you realized you were doing it. And by the
time you did finish, you felt better about yourself than you ever imagined.
He could get in and out of places when
others could not—Back when hospitals had super strict visiting hours my Daddy
could get in and out any time.
Stores or restaurants that had closed
would somehow let him in anyway.
He could visit anyone in jail and, on
occasion could get an inmate released in time for Christmas with his family.
He found scholarships for students,
spots in nursing homes, jobs for executives or waitresses and he always knew
where to get the best hot dog in town.
Remember that Vietnamese refugee
family I mentioned? After our church had sponsored the family and helped get
them settled in a home Daddy worked unceasingly to find one of their sons who
was not with his parents when Hanoi fell. He found him, got him out of a camp
in California and brought him to Virginia. The joy on their faces when they
were reunited was indescribable.
Daddy loved to garden. Every home he
ever lived in had flowers in the front yard and tomato plants in the back. He
even grew flowers and tomatoes right here at Westminster in the resident
gardens.
Yes, there were things he couldn’t do,
but he was magnificent with what he could do.
Faith and family and education.
He had priorities, he lived those
priorities, and he did with ease, with joy, and with grace.
I'll keep going
I know
there is a heaven,. I know my Daddy is there.
I don’t know a lot about it. I don't exactly know how to get there.
I am certain however, that if I find
myself struggling, Daddy will come get me.
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