HOME

With a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, my Grandpa Moles died on Friday at about five minutes until two in the morning. Brian and I had gotten to Union Hospital about an hour earlier. As we were passing the Vigo County fairgrounds on our way home from Nashville, Sarah called to tell us that Grandpa’s nurse had wisely let the family know that it was time for all of us to be at the hospital.

The man that was lying in the hospital bed, ravaged from the cancer and its treatment and the host of other problems that popped up since last Thanksgiving was different from the always-strong pillar of strength that I had known for the 25 years before. Indeed, Thursday night was the first time I had ever seen him in the role of hospital patient. Aunt Barb has remarked several times that she just assumed, as I think most of us did, that Grandpa would live 100+ years like his mother did.

Though we know that nothing will ever be the same, we will always have our memories of the home that he and grandma together created for those of us in our family and those outside as well. It isn’t only memories of family holidays and frequent evening visits to their house, but the memories of the neighborhood kids always being welcome with Mr. Moles. The family on my grandma’s side has found a true home at their house over the years, and their Uncle Will was just as close to them as their own fathers. A trip to 3017 Putnam Street is a trip home for so many people.

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THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS TREE

All this thinking about home has been on my mind a lot lately as I’ve had the opportunity over the last four months to serve and be served by those who are home-less. Something that many of us forget about is that homeless often does not mean just houseless, but truly without a home, the foundation that most of us are privileged to build our lives around. I was reminded of this during the past week when Cricket phones came to the Campus to let people make long distance calls to get in touch with family and friends during the holidays. It was an agonizing decision for many of our participants whether or not to make that call to families that have often rejected them (unfortunately for what are often understandable reasons). I thought about the importance of home when one of our participants proudly introduced me to his young grandson on Thursday morning who was with his mother for a half hour or so Christmas visit in our parking lot. I also was reminded of the importance of home on the occasions in the past month when two of our homeless participants have come to us because they learned of the deaths of family members through the media. The teary-eyed man who showed us his own son’s obituary this week that he had found in the newspaper that morning was a tragic display of home-lessness.

One of the epiphanies I’ve had this year is that I am helping in a very small way to create home for people. This becomes true whenever somebody asks me to be a reference for them on a job application. I usually think something like, “but I hardly even know you,” but then I realize that to them, the staff members at the Campus for Human Development are those who know them best and are the ones that they can trust. People have put the Campus down as their next of kin to be notified at the time of their deaths.

The most amazing demonstration of the power of home that is offered at the Campus came a few weeks ago when we were getting the Christmas decorations out (and no, we never got around to getting them all the way out, though we tried several times). We had thrown some decorations on the tree. Several participants wanted to help, which was nice to see. We had been told that we couldn’t put lights on the tree, because of rules from the fire marshal. By the end of the day, we had a pretty nice tree, though it certainly wasn’t the best in holiday fashion that Music City had to offer.

At the end of the next day, I noticed that there was some added sparkle to the tree. There were some new silver icicles on the tree, and assumed that somebody had gotten them out of storage. The day after that, after lunch, I happened upon an older woman and a tall younger man putting some additional mylar streamers and ornaments on the tree. I started talking to them about how nice the tree was starting to look. I asked where they found the decorations that they were adding, and the woman answered that she had bought them at the dollar store because she wanted the Campus to have a nice tree. She had taken what little money she had and bought decorations for the tree that was hers. It struck me that this was these people’s Christmas tree. They did not go home at night to another one like I did. The fostering of a small sense of home is what the Campus is about. Thanks to over 150 churches in Nashville, all will be able to get a taste of home in a warm church building on Christmas Eve or Christmas night through Room in the Inn.

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My family’s home will never be the same without Grandpa there. Nobody will be sitting in his chair, although Grandma is thinking about moving hers to his old spot so somebody can see when a car pulls into their driveway. I probably won’t be called Jeff-a-rey any time soon. I no longer know anyone whose favorite song is “The Red River Valley,” or anyone who can grow tomatoes that taste so good.

In the wee hours of Friday morning when the moment came that we had all been ready for, but dreading at the same time, God gave us the sign that someone new had entered the eternal home that awaits us. As Grandpa took his last labored breath and his body went limp, a flash of lightning lit the dark room and a single comforting clap of thunder rang out. A new voice had joined the heavenly host which once proclaimed to the poorest of those in a small Middle Eastern town a new home-coming of God into human skin. In the birth of Christ, God forever joined the frailty and temporary nature of humanity with the perfect and eternal nature of the divine. Indeed, we rejoice that nothing in life or death can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, our Lord.

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Wilfred E. “Will” Moles

Wilfred E. “Will” Moles, 86, of Terre Haute, passed away at 1:55 a.m. Friday Dec. 22, 2006 in Union Hospital. He retired from the federal prison, where he was a teacher of diesel and farm machinery repairs.

He was born Feb. 7, 1920 in Belknap, Mont., to Albert Moles and Sophia Skierka Moles. He married Agnes Smith Moles on Jan. 16, 1949.Survivors include his wife; one daughter, Barb Goltry and her husband Jeff of Logansport; one son, Jim Moles and his wife Cheryl of Terre Haute; three grandchildren, Jeff, Brian and Sarah Moles; and one sister, Altha Thompson. He was preceded in death by his parents; and five brothers, Leo, Lester, Clarence, LaVerne and Louie Moles.

He was a U.S. Army World War II veteran, having served in the 607th Tank Destroyer Batallion, Normandy Invasion and the Battle of the Bulge. He was a member of Central Presbyterian Church, Veteran of Foreign Wars Post 972, Wayne Newton American Legion Post 346, Federal Prison Retirees Association and National Association of Retired Federal Employees.

Funeral services are 10:30 a.m. Wednesday in Callahan-DeBaun Funeral Home, 2425 Wabash Ave., with the Rev. Lant Davis officiating. Visitation is 3 to 7 p.m. Tuesday in the funeral home. Burial is in Oak Hill Cemetery, with military graveside rites conducted by VFW Post 972. Memorial contributions may be made to Central Presbyterian Church or Vista Care Hospice.