I wrote my uncle Butch’s memorial message and finished it last night— laughed a lot and cried. He was my godfather and he disliked church and preferred fishing and nature as prayer. He and my aunt Donna always supported me. He came to church a few times to hear me preach, remarking “well God damn, I didn’t start on fire!” He asked me to lead his service and speak about him when he went on hospice. This one’s for you, Uncle Butch. You were one of the best of the best. I miss your deep laugh, the way you spoke your mind and how you loved nothing more than just hanging with family. ❤️
Scripture: Psalm 46: “Be Still and Know I am God”
Poem: “The Road Not Taken” By Robert Frost
Butch and I talked about this day and he didn’t mince words. He was always a man who told it how it was, right? With a smile, a gruff laugh, and the honest truth, right out there for anyone to see.
He told me how he wanted this service to go, how he wanted it to be here in this church, but not too churchy. He said it in different words, of course, a sprinkling of a swear word here and there, but that was Butch. Butch was Butch.
Many people have shared that Butch has been in their life for a long time.
Most of Donna’s siblings were just kids when Butch came into their life.
He and Donna were married for 57 years. They got to know each other again and again throughout their lifetime together, as they changed from teenagers to young adults, moving around and having kids of their own, to being older and watching their children and grandchildren grow up.
Butch loved his family. Deeply. He loved spending time with them. He loved talking about what they were doing in their lives, and he was always able to share what city or state or country they were living in. He liked being in the know about their lives.
He was very proud of his children in the ways he talked about them, their lives, and their families– And extremely proud of his grandkids and great grandbabies. He loved them so much. His fatherly love spilled out to his nieces and nephews, too.
He had this opposite effect. He was soft and loving, but he was also, well, kinda badass, especially in his younger years.
He was creative and resourceful. A lot of that, “I wonder if I guy could…” thinking and doing.
He spoke his mind and defended his friends and family.
He used to get pulled into bar fights when he was younger. My mom shared stories of her and Donna just picking up their purses and making their way to the car when they’d hear the first crash on nights when they went out.
He had a big heart: and he loved his family and friends.
Butch shared that the thing he loved about in life was just being with family. He said he looked forward to 4th of July parades and hanging down in the park. And, of course, spending all those August nights down at the Nicollet County Fair demolition derby, year after year of getting the best seats at the very top– where you could feel whatever breeze there was and still see, hear, and smell all of the action. He loved anything to do with cars and beer.
Butch had a deep, distinguished voice. That voice also came with one of a kind laughter, one of the best laughs there ever was. Everyone knew Butch’s laugh. Whether you heard him down at the fair, at the park, around someone’s kitchen table– but especially at the campfire.
Butch and Donna did a lot of camping. They loved camping. They took their kids camping and then later on would take their dogs, Butch loved his dogs. They also camped with their niece Jenna, whom Butch and Donna likened like a 4th daughter.
Butch later shared with me that he found being in nature to be one of the closest things to God.
“You know I don’t really believe in all that stuff,” He would tell me, “I don’t need a church when I have the outdoors, camping and fishing.”
Nature helped ground Butch. It taught him lessons. It showed him that things could be deeply unfair, deeply harsh– like 40 below winters,
shoveling his way out of deep snow. Things like farming and all the problem solving that came with. And he figured it out. He got creative. He used his resources and made things work.
Life was not fair for Butch all the time, and we saw that with Donna’s cancer. It softened him. It made him a caregiver. He again turned to nature and saw example after example of how you can do the right thing, and life still has other plans for you. He accepted this and still did everything he could to care for Donna. When faced with his own cancer, he sought out his family’s wishes and considered everyone.
Butch was a man who kept his word. Who lived out his vows and loved his family deeply.
And I don’t know about you, but I think that makes one hell of a person He was one hell of a person.
Butch was an expert plumber and a tinker of all things. He helped a lot of people with building projects and community projects. And he was always happy to pull up a seat, drink a cup of coffee, and catch up with anyone around the table.
He kept busy but he also knew when to rest.
It was shared that Butch took a half hour nap each day when he was working in his adult life. That you knew not to disturb him for that half hour, it was his time to rest. He also shared that he would try to camp as many weekends as possible, and if he couldn’t camp, he would try to get out and fish or hunt. He loved those hunting trips with the men in the family.
He enjoyed and valued stillness. The stillness that comes with sitting on a lake on a clear day, a fishing line cast out into the water, waiting for a bite and just watching the water.
He knew the value of stillness. The importance of enjoying this life, not just working to no avail.
As we celebrate his life, I hope we are also inspired by it. Butch lived and loved authentically.
He took each day as it came and did things that made him happy. He took the road less traveled, and it really did make all the difference.
May you remember the fullness of his life.
May you feel the warmth of his love still beating in your heart
May you find those still waters of a lake in the early morning and see his reflection in yourself on the water.
May you enjoy the crackle of a campfire and in the laughter around it or the deep silence of the darkening night sky, knowing he is watching you from above.
May his memory always be a blessing in our family and his stories continue to bring laughter and a smile.
May you know he loved each of you– so much– and that this is not the end.
You don’t have to be a man in church to know the meaning of life and to see God face to face.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Amen.
Minister to the Heart 