One of the great blessings of being a child of missionaries in my denomination is the extended family that one automatically joins when arriving on the mission field. This is especially true for those of us who ended up in a particularly large group of missionaries, as my family did. There were suddenly over a hundred people who were to be called “aunt” or “uncle” plus dozens of courtesy cousins of varying ages. It was a bit overwhelming when I was 10 years old and first walked into that situation, but ultimately many of these people became closer than most of my relatives by blood. 

As we age, a natural consequence of having a large family is that we begin to lose family members. My first family funeral was that of a great-great-grandmother when I was eight (my family might have married and had children quite young for several generations). Since then I’ve attended several for both my birth family and my missionary family.

Several weeks ago, I received word of another loss–another missionary uncle. Uncle Von loomed large in my life both literally and figuratively. So many images came immediately to mind from the serious to the hilarious, from daily life and family vacations and more recent reunions. As always when I think of Uncle Von, the first incident that came to my thoughts was the time my sister fell off the back of his Vespa because she refused to hold on to me.  She was fine. Why did we have 5 people on one Vespa scooter? Well, we were in Indonesia, and we wanted to get somewhere. I also think that we children may have actually wanted to ride on the scooter, though it’s hard to believe that now.

The biggest thing that came to mind was concern for Uncle Von’s family. While I respected him a great deal, he and I were never very close, mostly because of differing interests. On the other hand, after my parents, his wife was probably the strongest spiritual influence on my adolescence. Her loss, and that of his children, was where my heart went immediately.

I wanted to be there, but, of course, I could not. I’m in Illinois. They are in Oklahoma. We live in the time of COVID-19. Messages can be sent. Memorials can be made. Hugs are not an option.

I am grateful that, despite that limitation, I was able to at least watch the memorial service, and that service was a blessing in and of itself. It was a beautiful reminder of Uncle Von’s walk with God through his life and of the reality that we do “not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13b ESV). The one who is gone is released from suffering and is with Christ.

Yet we do grieve. Uncle Von is not here. We on earth have lost him for now.

Watching the memorial service brought to mind a song that I have come to love. I believe it beautifully captures the reality of Christian death, the intermingling of grief for now and hope for the future. In part, it says,

It isn’t easy to say goodbye
But I know it’s only for a little while
Run up ahead and I will catch up
‘Cause I’m gonna see you when tomorrow comes
On the other side

“The Other Side” by Colton Dixon

Uncle Von is well and safe and out of pain with Jesus. Someday we will be, too. In the meantime, we must both grieve our loss and rest assured by the God of hope and love.

Photo by Liane Metzler on Unsplash