Dear Papa Ross,
I just got back from Nashville TN last night. It was the first time I'd been back since we drove down to say goodbye to you for the last time. Honestly, it was weird being there, knowing you weren't. It was bitter and sweet to return to a city with so many memories of you and Mama Lynn (by the way, please tell her I said hello and that the kids are doing great).
I just spent the weekend with a bunch of creative, kind, and interesting people who are all asking the same kinds of questions that you loved to ask: "What are you doing, and how are you doing it for the glory of God?" These particular individuals are mainly pursuing their creative passions in the arts, which I know you loved. I met singers, songwriters, authors, poets, artists, music teachers, bloggers, stay at home moms, homeschoolers, a political speech writer, a school librarian, a pediatrician, a nurse, a caretaker, and many more. They all love God and desire to glorify Him in their passions while cultivating truth, goodness, and beauty. It was beautiful to see, hear, and observe.
I heard session leaders and keynote speakers talk about the importance of engaging and redeeming our imaginations as Believers and image bearers, and inspiring God-glorifying creativity and imagination in the home for future generations. I walked away feeling inspired, impassioned, and like I had been drinking directly from a fire hose. In a word, it was glorious.
As I listened to the sessions, your face would flicker in and out of my mind. I imagined you nodding vigorously at times, or see you furrowing your brow and crossing your arms in silent disagreement.
I wanted to meet you at Panera afterward and talk it out with you over a cup of coffee and hear you laugh loudly at your own jokes. I wished that I could debate the key points of the talks and get your thoughts and opinions. I even wanted to field your leading questions that would inevitably take us somewhere completely different but equally thought provoking and encouraging.
It made me thankful for the Totomundo retreats you orchestrated, where in similar fashion brothers and sisters in Christ met to talk, listen, and encourage each other in their unique callings. A violinist, an actor, a choral director and classical singer, three businessmen and an entrepreneur, a scientist, a psychologist, an athletic director, stay at home moms, and high school students (which sounds like an awesome beginning to a joke, by the way) all came to talk, laugh, listen, and exhort each other to press on in glorifying God by working excellently in their fields and with God-given passion without shame.
No shame, people.
Totomundo and Hutchmoot are both brilliant and beautiful representations of what I imagine Heaven to be like: a gathering of Christ followers making much of our Creator in the ways He gifted us to worship and to love Him with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength. Without the battle against our fallen nature crapping it up. And you and Lynn will be there. Which will be awesome.
As much as I loved my time at Hutchmoot, I unconsciously carried with me a weight all weekend. Talking about things that you cared so much about, and simultaneously being in a town so closely linked to so many memories of you all was harder than I had imagined.
And then Andrew Peterson performed his album release concert with beautifully poignant and heartbreaking songs that were so vulnerable that you couldn't help but weep with him. (Geez, AP! Why you gotta be so good at what you do?) By Saturday night, I was feeling completely exhausted and fragile.
On Sunday morning, I planned to end my time in Nashville visiting your grave sites: to remember you and Mama Lynn, to read Scriptures aloud and sing some of your favorite songs. And to probably cry. Alone.
Instead, I was invited to spend the morning with your oldest son and daughter in law, and your four lively and loving grandsons. We talked about life, our kids, science-y stuff that I tried to wrap my head around, and cracked up over stories about you and Mama Lynn. (For example, her immunity to being affected by the sound of screaming babies/children was both amazing and perplexing.) Meanwhile, the boys chattered, romped, and laughed around us with their bouncy curls and smiling eyes. The house was full of life.
Afterward, the boys walked me down to see their playhouse ("not a playground, it is a house - but sometimes we pretend it's a rocket ship"). While pushing them on the swings, it struck me then that in that moment we were remembering and honoring you and Lynn. Talking with the boys about mosquitoes and aardvarks, drinking in the sunshine, and wondering at God's creation.
Your legacy lives on in each of us who God gave to you to love, encourage, teach, and shepherd for a season. And we are passing down the truths of Creation, Fall, Redemption, and Restoration through Christ to our children and others who God brings into our lives.
Ross discussing diesel fuel with my trucker dad
Papa Ross, you are loved and missed, and by God's grace we will keep pressing on in living out the Gospel by faith, in truth, creativity, and with joy. Thank you both for teaching us that so faithfully. Soli Deo Gloria.
Until we meet again,
Donna
To get a clearer picture of who Ross and Lynn McGary were/are, see more posts about them below:
Ross (by Jason)
A Reflection of a Remarkable Woman (by Donna)
In Memory of Lynn (by Jason)
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