“Well done, good and faithful servants”

A Tribute by Virginia Friesen

In the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic terrorizing the world, “life and death” continue quite apart from “The Corona” (as our grandson Nathan has dubbed it). Heaven has gained many citizens these weeks, and there has been much shared grief and pain around the globe.

Two of heaven’s most recent non-COVID-19 citizens are very precious to us:

Bob Kraning passed away Palm Sunday, April 5, 2020, in his home with his loving wife of almost 63 years, Carol. Our relationship with Bob and Carol goes back to the 70’s. As very young marrieds, we attended the Christian Camping International Conference (CCI) and hung on every word spoken by Bob and Carol during a plenary session. It was impossible to not be drawn to them. Both so outgoing, gregarious, warm, funny, and engaging.  And full of wisdom expressed through story telling.

In 1992, we invited them to be family camp speakers at CBS and that began an over twenty year tradition of the Kranings speaking at a week of family camp. When introducing the speaker for the week to the campers, Paul would always say, “We invite people we want to spend a week with, and we hope you like them too.”

And that was the truth. A huge bonus of serving as program directors for 34 years at CBS was having the privilege of selecting the speakers, always choosing people we saw as mentors as well as friends.

And Bob and Carol were just that. Every year, we treasured the time we had with them outside of the program schedule especially as together we laughed, cried, shared stories, dreamed, reminisced, and celebrated our deep bond.

Fortunately, the campers loved them, too.

It’s such a sweet memory that Bob and Carol spoke at our last CBS family camp over Labor Day Weekend 2016. They were just as strong in their teaching and relating as ever.  

Besides family camp at CBS, we had them speak for our New England family camp a few times and for our marriage conference as well.

With truly character driven people of God, the evidence is clearly demonstrated through how they live their lives “off stage."   Anyone with speaking gifts can be convincing on stage, but it’s the off-the-stage moments that reveal one’s true character. Christlikeness was irrefutable in Bob (and Carol.)

Just one example was seen back in 2003, when they spoke for NE family camp at Geneva Point. Housing wasn’t a highlight at that beautiful camp, but it wasn’t until Wednesday that we discovered that Bob and Carol had been assigned a cabin with only two twin beds. And we only found out about it because Paul delivered something to their cabin.  

Paul was horrified. He asked Bob and Carol why they hadn’t said anything about it and Bob replied, “It’s no big deal. No special treatment needed.”

That humility and grace marked the way Bob lived his life, all 87 minus two days of it.

The last several times we heard them speak, Bob repeated the same commitment: “We just want to finish well.” He told of celebrating both sets of their parents’ 50th anniversaries, about the time Bob and Carol celebrated their 25th. One of the parents said to Bob and Carol, “We have 125 years of married life represented here. Now don’t blow it!”

They didn’t blow it and he did finish well. The world lost one of the truly great giants of our century when Bob breathed his last on Palm Sunday, but he left more "fingerprints on lives” than can be counted.  

How grateful we are that his fingerprints are on our heart. “Well done, my good and faithful servant."

The second new citizen of heaven is my dear mama. In the wee hours of April 14 she breathed her last and I had the privilege of being with her the last 11 days of her life. Only God could’ve orchestrated that.

We celebrated her 90th birthday in early January as all of her seven children and spouses, and many of her grand- and great-grandchildren gathered to honor this newly-minted nonagenarian. She was feted with flowers: one from each person, selected as a symbolic representation of their heart for her, and it was a most beautiful and honoring time. In some ways, it was a memorial celebration in her honor which she got to attend. How perfect that she got to hear verbalized how uniquely loved she was by each one.

Though her health has been quite good, her mobility was decreasing and her desire for heaven was increasing. Several weeks before her death she took a fall, which resulted in an ambulance ride to the ER, but she was released after x-rays revealed no breaks. A few facial bruises were the only evidence of that little event.

So it was quite the shock to receive word on March 28 from her housemate that she had fallen and was being rushed to the hospital. X-rays confirmed that she had had a pulmonary embolism. Miraculously, she survived, and after 5 days in the visitor-banned, COVID-19-protected hospital, she was released to return home under hospice care.

Were our world not under lock-down due to the pandemic, Paul and I would have been hosting Engagement Matters that weekend, followed by packing for our third trip to Vietnam. 

But dark clouds come with silver linings, and as a result of these canceled travels, I was able to fly to San Diego to spend the last 11 days of my mom’s life caring for her in partnership with our daughter Lisa. As a college professor, Lisa has had to exchange her classroom for a computer screen, so she was also able to move her now portable life to San Diego to care for her beloved Grammie. 

Thus began a truly sacred journey of walking with my precious Mama during her last days on earth. 

I can’t think of a greater privilege than that.

My Southern Belle Mama, who lost her own mom when she was only 12, was the youngest of 4 and only girl in her family. She married young (18) and was the mother of four by the time she was 24. The fourth child was “doomed” by the doctor in Panama who told my mother, after she had developed chronic kidney problems following the birth of her third child, that discontinuing the pregnancy would be the wise choice. 

The year was 1954 and that advice was seldom given. “A sustained pregnancy will cost your life and the baby’s life most likely, and you have 3 young ones at home who need you,” the doctor soberly told my mom. 

She replied, “We’ll let God decide that, doctor.”

That child was me.

And the confidence my mom (and my dad) in the sovereign will of God has never wavered.

Three more healthy children followed me, by the way. And eventually her chronic nephritis cleared up.

During her last 11 days, she expressed how eager she was to get to heaven. Being bedridden was not her idea of how to live life, especially when it came to the mundane realities of life, like toileting. Reflecting on how hard it was for her to be immobile and completely dependent on us for everything, she said, “I don’t know how people like Joni Eareckson Tada live this way. She obviously has more courage than me.” I assured her that God gives each of us what we need according to what we’re facing. 

She couldn’t figure out why she kept wakening in her bed rather than in the arms of Jesus, the prayer she constantly expressed. “But I know you’re in charge, Lord, and I trust you.”

And she did.

For 11 days, we sang hymns, we prayed, we laughed, we told stories, we dredged up memories. She FaceTimed with each of her children who were unable to be at her bedside due to travel restrictions, and she visited with those of us who were there. What a gift those two weeks were to all of us left behind. Each one of us had the opportunity to express whatever was in our hearts to her, and had she not survived her pulmonary embolism, none of that would’ve been possible.

She expressed gratitude constantly and apologized for being a burden in any way.

We assured her she wasn’t. That it was a privilege to serve her. To care for her. To love her practically and tangibly.

She was lucid, aware, and conversant up until 8 hours before she breathed her last. 

A peace settled over her room after she took that last breath as if to say, “I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I am safely home.”

Indeed she had. And indeed she was.

Grief is real and we have shed many tears this past week. But joy is even more real, because we do not grieve as those without hope. Her future is secure in the loving arms of Jesus. She was more convinced of that than ever as she slipped from this broken world into the perfect world of heaven, where sorrow is left outside the door. 

All praise is His. Forever and ever. 

Amen.