For the past week on the phone, via email, in condolence cards, and in person at the memorial visitation and funeral service people have been telling me what an amazing man my dad was. He really, really was. I understand the tendency for girls to idolize their fathers, and of people to canonize the recently departed, but my eyes are at least partway open; I recognize at least some of my dad's flaws and shortcomings.
But he touched so many people so deeply in so many ways; he really was something very special. My dad was wise and compassionate and competent. He had a way of being that was just so . . . spirit-filled and mature and welcoming.
I will miss my father unbearably. I already do. But even worse, for me, is the knowledge that my young children and my nieces and nephew will have only vague (if any) memories of their grandfather. They all have wonderful fathers, but my dad was a unique model for a way to be a man. I wish they all had him around both personally and as a role model as they grow to adulthood and decide both who they want to be and the people with whom they choose to surround themselves.
Below are some thoughts I shared at the luncheon following the funeral, and following the break are his obituary and a bulletin insert that goes into a bit more detail about his life.
For a long ago funeral, my father wrote,We are created for life together and we know ourselves as we are known. It is in relationship that we become more than creature – where we become person.
A big part of the way I have always defined myself is as my
father’s daughter: Ted’s daughter, the preacher’s daughter, the daughter of the
man who meant so much to so many people.
I don’t know how to contain this. I don’t know how to
process it. And it occurs to me that I’d like to call my dad to talk to him
about this painful experience I’m going through.
My dad was a compassionate man. And he was so very wise. He
was also competent and interesting and funny and sometimes painfully
embarrassing.
When my sisters and I were teenagers and boys started
calling, he’d sit in his recliner with the phone on his stomach, his finger on
the “answer” button. He had incredibly fast reaction time. As soon as the phone
started to ring he’d hit the button, whip the phone up to his ear, and bellow,
“HELLO” in his preacher voice. I can’t
imagine having a better dad. In fact, I’ve never met anyone like my father.
If you’ve ever been to a wedding or a funeral at which my
dad officiated, you know that he had the gift of making each ceremony special
and unique. And whenever dad baptized a baby, the baby never cried. They just
relaxed and stared up at him, mesmerized and comfortable.
Dad projected a sense that: No matter what you
tell him, you will not shock him. No matter what you tell him, he will not
judge you. No matter what you tell him, he will hold your problems in his
heart. And you will not be alone.
Details:
My dad spent a week at a conference at Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian retreat center in New Mexico. We went to Ghost Ranch as a family when my sisters and I were young, and hoped to go back again one day as a family reunion. By all accounts, my dad had a wonderful week.
Last Sunday, he boarded a plane for the return flight from Albuquerque to Chicago: headed home. He sat across the aisle from a minister friend and colleague, and they were laughing as chatting as the plane taxied to the runway. My dad's head tipped back and he began to snore. His friend hit him and called his name. He did not respond.
The young woman sitting on the other side of my father asked if he suffered from a seizure disorder then unbuckled herself, jumped into his lap, felt for a pulse, and began chest compressions. (She was a medical resident.) There was a defibrillator on-board the aircraft. The plane returned to the gate, where it was met by medics who worked on my dad for 40 minutes. He never regained consciousness. It was fast, it was probably painless, and it will always be a mystery. (My dad was overweight and 68 but was otherwise in good health with no personal or family history of heart problems. It might very well have been a sudden, catastrophic heart attack that killed him, but we'll never know for sure.) The whole time the medics worked on him, my dad's friend held his hand. He was not alone.
Obituary:
Lester, Rev. Dr. Ted Allen 68, of Valparaiso, formerly of Kansas, passed
away suddenly Sunday, April 22, 2012 in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He was
born February 8, 1944 in Evansville, IN to Furman and Florice (Peyton)
Lester. He received a B.A. from Hanover College in 1966, Master of
Divinity from McCormick Divinity School in 1969, Doctor of Ministry from
McCormick School of Divinity in 1986 and his Psychology Doctorate from
Graduate Theological Foundation in 2001.
Ted had served as a
Presbyterian minister since 1969 which included churches in Kansas City,
MO, Independence, MO, Indianapolis, IN, Albuquerque, NM, Junction City,
KS, Valparaiso, IN and South Bend, IN.
Since 1999 he also served as a
Pastoral Psychotherapist with Counseling Ministries in Valparaiso and
Chicago. Ted will be remembered by many in the communities he had served
as an activist for social justice, advocating for those without a
voice. Survivors include his wife, Carolynn, whom he married on August
9, 1969 in New Hampshire; daughters, Sarahlynn Lester (Paul Boal) of St.
Louis, MO, Jessica (Ivan) Hay of Kalamazoo, MI, Grace Lester (Benjamin
Jett) of Louisville, KY, brother, Harry N. (Sarah) Lester of Hot Springs
Village, AR and grandchildren, Eleanor, Adelaide and Theodore
Lester-Boal, Arria, Evelyn and Clara Hay and Lilith and Samuel Jett. Ted
was preceded in death by his parents and one brother, William Lester.
Following cremation a memorial visitation will be held Wednesday from
4:00 - 7:00 pm at Moeller Funeral Home, 104 Roosevelt Rd., Valparaiso. A
memorial service will be held Thursday, 10:00 am at Trinity Lutheran
Church, 201 Washington St., Valparaiso, The Rev. Dr. Frank Vardeman and
The Rev. Dr. John J. Santoro officiating. In lieu of flowers memorials
may be made to Church World Service or Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.
Pew bulletin insert from funeral:
By the time Ted A. Lester was 8 years old,
in Evansville, Indiana, he knew he wanted to be a minister. He frequently
accompanied his pastor, Charlie Zapp, on pastoral visits. This is not to
suggest that Ted was a goody-two-shoes, mind you. He spent much of kindergarten
in the corner, took a little too much initiative as a crossing guard, and was
frequently sent to the library to read when his teachers didn’t know what to do
with him.
Ted’s parents were both from Western
Kentucky, and they sent him back to the family farm during the summers when he
was young. He was very close to his cousins. Ted was active in scouting and
indeed became an Eagle Scout. He took
groups of boy scouts spelunking, even once he’d gone away to Hanover College
across the state.
In 1967 Ted moved to his favorite city in
the world, Chicago, Illinois. He worked as a community organizer and was
particularly interested in the civil rights movement, marching with Martin
Luther King, Jr. in Mississippi – twice. After seminary, he even attended a year of law
school to help further his interest in community action. And he spent a year as
a director of a group home for boys who were wards of the court.
Ted was ordained a Cumberland Presbyterian
minister in June of 1967, and he quickly became very active within the larger church.
He worked on the merger joining together two different denominations within the
Presbyterian family. He served on the Committee on Ministry for his
Presbyteries, assisting churches and pastors in need. He Moderated the Synod of
Mid-America, and wrote quite a bit of curriculum and other training materials.
Every three years at the Presbyterian Youth Triennium he served in the
background as the hospital dean, caring for participants with health crises.
Throughout his career, Ted was very interested in ecumenism and inter-faith
dialogue. Ted was also very active in the communities in which he served. In
Junction City, Kansas, he helped found the Open Door Community House for
homeless individuals. He also took groups of youth on summer work camps.
Later in his career, Ted completed a
doctorate in psychology and began a full-time pastoral counseling practice. He
worked in both Valparaiso, Indiana and Chicago and was very interested in brain
research and neuro-feedback.
Last year, Ted Lester “retired,” although he
maintained both of his counseling offices (and some clients) as well as a
part-time church in South Bend, Indiana. In his “retirement,” Ted developed new
passions for gardening and cooking elaborate and gourmet meals.
