Death of a scouter.

[frank10 12]

Two long time Scouter in our district have passed on this month and we will be raising a mug of coffee to them tonight. These were not young men, we won't be standing around wondering what they could have made out of their lives. We know exactly their role was in this life and they were great men.

 

To me falls the task of finding the right opening and closing thoughts for TONIGHT's roundtable. If you have a favorite tribute, prayer or story that you think might just work please post it or a link to it.

 

Two that I have so far are -

 

Success

To laugh often and much

To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children

To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends

To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others

To leave the world a little better - whether by a healthy child, a garden path, or a redeemed social condition

To know even one life has breathed easier because you lived

This is to have succeeded.

 

Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

------

 

Isn't it strange that princes and kings

And clowns that caper in sawdust rings

And common people, like you and me

Are builders for eternity?

 

Each is given a bag of tools

A shapeless mass, a book of rules

And each must make ere life has flown

A stumbling block .... or a stepping stone

[Bob White 20]

It's always difficult to say goodbye to friends. I am sorry for your loss wingnut. I'm sure whatever you choose to say will be fine if it is from your heart.

 

Bob White

[ManyIrons 10]

At the time I'm posting this your Roundtable is already completed. Both of those "thoughts" were very touching. I plan on filing those away for future use.

 

Hope all went well.

 

Please accept my condolences.

 

ManyIrons.

[Fuzzy Bear 12]

The Troop had bedded down for the night, so I made my last round. We were camped near Scouter's Lookout at our Camporee. I then decided to walk over to the point for one last look. On my way, I vaguely could see the outline of another Scouter standing deep in thought. I hesitated to speak. Knowing him as a friend and much older leader in competing programs, I didn't want him to think me as being rude.

 

Still, I risked offense by speaking of the night and of other small things. He just stood looking at the woods and the valley through the darkness. He didn't turn but knew of my presence and began to speak. His words were direct and to the point. He knew me and what we shared apart and together, somehow. He shared my dreams of Scouting and stated it plainly in his own words.

 

Later, I could only remember the way he spoke and how the words pierced my soul as if someone had drew their bow and repeatedly hit their mark.

 

Tonight, in my mind, I walk to the point and there he is waiting, as I now know he waited for me on that night so many years ago. He has long since left our camp and this life but there he stands for one last look across the trees and valley far below.

 

 

Fuzzy Bear(This message has been edited by Fuzzy Bear)(This message has been edited by Fuzzy Bear)

[WAKWIB 107]

Fuzzy's story brings back memories of similar encounters. Back in my camp staff days, there were several "old-timers" that had the gift for saying the right thing at the right time. It was as if they could look into my mind and knew what I needed to hear, without me even saying a word. Although they are gone from this life, their words of concern, correction, and encouragement still live on in my life.

[dsteele 20]

Wingnut:

 

I'm sorry for your district's loss, but, it sounds like their time had come. I hope you all rejoiced in what you must have gained from these Scouters while they were with us.

 

I once had a Scout Executive tell me, as we were riding to a volunteer's funeral, "If you believe in any sort of an afterlife, death isn't so bad."

 

The funeral was for a fellow Kiwanian of mine who was a retired Scout Executive. He was a cool old guy, but had been sick for a very long time before he passed away.

 

It was a great service. Scouts opened with a flag ceremony. His daughter sang "On my Honor," and the pastor delivered a eulogy built around the piece I'm about to include. It didn't do anything that I'm aware of to help Art Henry (the deceased,) but it went a long way to comfort those of us who mourned him.

 

It's by Roselyn Aronson and I got it from Family Life Radio.

 

"OH, MR. TENTMAKER"

 

"It was nice living in this tent when it was strong and secure nd the sun was shining and the tent was warm.

 

But, Mr. Tentmaker, it's scary now.

 

My tent is acting like it's not going to hold together. The poles are weak and they shift with the wind, a couple of the stakes have wriggled loose from teh sand, and worst of all, the canvas has a rip. It no longer protects me from beating rain or stinging flies.

 

It's scary in here, Mr. Tentmaker. Last week I was sent to the repair shop and some repairmen tried to patch the rip in my canvas. It didn't help much though, because the patch pulled away from the edges and now the tear is worse.

 

What troubled me most, Mr. Tentmaker, is that the repairmen didn't seem to notice I was still in the tent. They just worked on the canvas while I shivered inside. I cried out once, but no one heard me.

 

I guess my first real question is, why did you give me such a flimsy tent? I can see by looking around the campground that some of the tents are much stronger and more stable than mine. Why, Mr. Tentmaker, did you pick a tent of such poor quality for me and even more important, what do you intend to do about it?

 

______

 

Oh, little tent dweller, as the Creator and Provider of tents, I know all about you and your tent and I love you both.

 

I made a tent for myself once and lived in it on your campground. My tent was vulnerable, too, and some vicious attackers ripped it to pieces while I was still in it. It was a terrible experience but you'll be glad to know they couldn't hurt me. In fact, the whole occcurence was a tremendous advantage because it is this very victory over my enemy that frees me to be of present help to you.

 

Little tent dweller, I: am now prepared to come and live in your tent with you, if you will invite me. You will learn, as we dwell together, that real security comes from my being in your tent with you. When the storms come, you can huddle in my arms and I'll hold you. When the canvas rips, we'll go to the repair shop together.

 

Someday, little tent dweller, your tent will collapse (for I've only designed it for temporary use.) When it does, you and I will leave together (I promise not to leave before you do.) Then, free of all that would hinder or restrict, we will move to our permanent home and together, forever rejoice and be glad."

 

This piece doesn't speak to everyone, but it spoke to me.

 

Sorry to hear about your loss.

 

DS