Norrie's goodbye...

Norrie Duff on one of his adventures.

Yesterday I took a funeral for Church member and friend Norrie Duff. I had spent time in preparation with the family and they said that Norrie wanted a short simple funeral with plenty of time for people to talk afterward. They also said they wanted an open time when people could share.
I prepared a short simple funeral service suitable for the family and for Norrie, but we did not end up with a short service. As people gathered I began to realise that this was not going to be a small funeral. All the chairs in the quite sizable funeral home chapel were filled and there were a small number of guys standing at the back. I would guess somewhere around 250 - 300 people attended. I opened with an introduction, we sang "Morning has broken" and I read part of 1 Corinthians 13. His two sons shared about their father. They both got emotional but both did a good job, writing out what they had to say and giving me a copy in case they could not handle it. I then read a letter sent from London by a grand daughter. That had my voice cracking up. We then entered the open time. Norrie was an ordinary guy who had worked in department stores. He had a lot of ill health in his years and also suffered the loss of his wife when he was around 59.  He was an active Christian and had attended two different Churches in Dunedin. He was a organ/piano/key-board player. But most of all he was a just a super friendly guy. Sometimes when you announce an open time there is a deadly silence and people look uncomfortable, nobody willing to come forward. Yesterday people were just about lining up to speak of their contact with Norrie. A special friend he had shared a house with. When she was 90 and he was 77 they both went on a trip to Australia staying at youth hostels! A representative from a singing group he played for. A lady who regularly bumped into him on her way to work. A guy who purchased his car when he had to sell it because he had developed cataracts, who just "had to keep in contact with such a nice guy".  Person after person spoke of the influence this ordinary man had on their lives, how he had brought light, laughter, a listening ear and friendship. There were tears, laughter and love. Each speaker was applauded spontaneously. Somebody said to me after, "For a funeral, that was so much fun!" It was the spirit of the man rubbing off on his funeral. Here are just three of the lessons I have learned from Norrie and the experience of leading his funeral.

• I learned that you do not have to be rich, famous, in a position of power or pushy to have a powerful influence. Norrie was "Norrie".  Just a friendly guy who would talk and listen to people in a respectful way. He was genuinely interested in people but somehow you felt at ease, and in no way judged or categorised.  He had no "agenda" when he shared with you, he was not trying to impress or influence. There were so many people at his funeral and such an outpouring of love because he had touched and influenced them not by his theological knowledge, an astounding intellect, nor a forceful personality, or position of power .. but just by a ready smile, an openness to others and a willingness to take the risk of saying "Hello".
•  I learned that illness, setbacks and sadnesses do not have to ruin your life.  Norrie was an epileptic and as a young husband and father the family had to cope with his regular fits. (Later in life these were controlled) Over the years he had a whole list of health difficulties. (Heart troubles, joint troubles, eyesight problems etc.) He had the sadness of losing his wife at a relatively young age. But his second son described his approach to his troubles roughly like this. "He faced them head on. If he could change something he did. But the things he could not change he sucked up, adapted life to them and moved on to make the best of life." As I grump about having to wear this catheter I need to learn from his attitude.
•  I was reminded to soak in life. In conversations with Norrie he would talk about various trips or experiences and you sensed he just appreciated the beauty, the feel, the small things and the majesty of the world about him. He would describe some scene and close his eyes as if reliving the experience, smile and say, "Oh it was just beautiful!" He told of hoping in his wagon and driving off into the hills. He would go to sleep in the back of the old Landcruiser but position it so that when he woke he would have a beautiful view of the hills and mountains about him.  He would take walks and explore the history behind the locality. His oldest son in his talk gave a beautiful picture of how Norrie lived. "He lived at a million miles per hour, it did not matter what  the doctors said, like a dog with his head out of a car window!" He tasted life, enjoying sights sounds and smells, was fascinated by the people he met and loved to do all he could to experience and soak in the world about him while he could.

Any way I  just thought I'd share how he impacted me.  I was also reminded that I am good at leading funerals. While I think the "success" of this one was largely because of the nature of the guy we were remembering, I think I have an ability to lead things in such a way that the ceremony expresses the spirit of the person and of the family.  I had so many positive, affirming and appreciative comments, and yet I felt I had done little toward the outcome. I do word each ceremony carefully, try to avoid cliches and think about the audience. To do a good job requires careful thought and work. I still find the exercise extremely stressful. I do not intend to continue taking funerals into retirement. I look forward to having more free time to be like that "dog with his head out the window". Thank you Norrie for coming into my life.