I think it is interesting that my last post to this blog was about a pillar of my local church passing and the thoughts I had in the wake of losing him. That was back in November. It was my last post of 2015. This opening post of 2016 will begin with the loss of another pillar of my local church, Brother Max Towell.
Brother Max (Pastor Max to me), died this past week and was laid to rest yesterday. It seems to me that he was the Pastor of my church home forever. But he only moved to Ogallala in 1969 when I was 16 years old. By that time I was a wild child. A few traumatic experiences between my baptism by Ivy Conner at 13 and that 16th year of my life, found me soured on God. I was also battling something that later would be labeled depression and my teenage hormones magnified everything into a crisis, I was a mess. Pastor Max had his hands full trying to tame this wild beast and, sadly, wasn't able to do so before I sneaked out of Grandma's house one late night, a few weeks after my son's birth, and ran pell mell into a dark life until the late 70's.
Son in tow, I ran away at the age of 18 and didn't come back until 1985. By then I was in my early 30's, separated from my husband, after five years of marriage, with my son and a four year old daughter. I ran back home from Lincoln, NE to protect myself and my children. I had married a recovering alcoholic whom became very scary when he returned, like a dog, to his own vomit. Years later he would sober up and become a walking miracle! I am very grateful for the friendship we now share.
Enter, Pastor Max. He and his wife, Viola, rented me a trailer that matched my budget. They then came to my new home for Bible lessons. I'd like to say I invited him. I just didn't say no when he asked if they could come 'visit' and those visits turned into Bible lessons for most of the time I lived in that trailer. I'd also like to say that it was a wonderful time. I was a challenge to them. I still carried a chip on my shoulder when it came to God so I asked them to explain a lot of why my life was a mass of violence, shame and heartache ... which they could not. It would take me several more years before I would learn to stop blaming God. But those visits were not lost on my heart. My soul may have been hardened but their love and patience with me softened it's core. And my heart bloomed with love for them. They were there during a tough time in my life and they anchored me to Hope.
Max and the Church of Christ family were like life rings to my dysfunctional family. Sometime after I had ran away from my Grandma's home, my Mom had begun to go to church regularly and, later, her 4th husband, whom proved to be a keeper, began attending and became one of those pillars in my life that brought me closer to loving God more than ever.
I could never identify with a healthy father figure but with Pete I finally found a Dad ... a Father. He healed some deep wounds and he became my greatest draw back into the Church of Christ family. He and Mom loved Brother Max dearly and watching their faith grow made me respect Pastor Max and the Church of Christ all the more! I found I could finally pray to a loving Father because I experienced that love from some healthy 'Father' figures. I could pack away the God of violence that I falsely believed picked me as a punching bag. I finally recognized the changes I needed to make to bring this fascinating, loving, forgiving, Lord deep into my heart!
Max was there with such tenderness when Dad died. His son, Jay Towell, was then the 'Pastor' and in his inherited, skilled gift of teaching, officiated the most tender of funerals. I still hear the song he and his talented family sung, acappella, during that service. Brother Max was such a strength for my Mom during that difficult time and visited her often.
When my Mom became very sick 8-9 years ago with a major infection, Max was one of the most frequent visitors with a couple of other 'Brothers' of the church family. Most folks were scared to come see Mom, but Max showed a love that overcomes fear.
I was staying with Mom to care for her. I remember, I was having such difficulty understanding Mom's illness and keeping her home sterilized that one day, I just lost it. I mean, I really lost it! I was screaming at my Mom that I wished I had died during her difficult birth with me (I was a breach baby .... hm, that should explain why most of my walk through life has been butt first!) and hated having to deal with everything! Who should come to the door at that very moment ... Pastor Max and someone else ... darn if I can remember who came with him though. I just remember crumbling into a sobbing mess and dear Max helping me work through my despair and shame at screaming at Mom. He and his helper prayed over us and I, still to this day, feel that overwhelming calm that came over me that day. The memory still brings tears to my eyes.
I feel very sad today. Those pillars of my life that have helped me become a less dysfunctional person have all gone now. Max was the last. His son is preaching in Red Cloud, NE... so far away ... and I will miss his tremendous gift of teaching God's word.
I don't attend my church home regularly now-a-days. Something has changed. They are still the most awesome family and I love them all. I'm sure it is just me. I don't handle change well ... unless it is rearranging the furniture in my home. I like that change.
Well, Pastor Max, if you could see this post ... I would close with how much you will be missed. So many lives you touched. Such a life you lived! And an awesome banjo player to boot! I didn't remember that about you. But there you were with your banjo in that wonderful slide show of pictures they shared celebrating your life from youth til God took you home with Him. You would have enjoyed that slide show. Your family and dearest friends will miss you most. I love you, Max. I thank the Lord for you. I attribute my strong love for the Lord to you, sir. You had a big part in that love growing.
You've got another good man there, Lord. I hope to see him again. Maybe I can see him, finally, pickin on that banjo?
