A collection of memories.
The following photos from his son Jeremy’s collection were posted around the reception hall following Lewis’s memorial service. Click on any thumbnail for a larger image. Another more comprehensive slideshow of Lewis’s life can be found by clicking here or by clicking on “Family Photos” under the Pages heading on the left side of your screen.
Lewis was a collector. Among the things he collected were stamps, feathers, rare coins and bills, and cartoons. The following cartoons were found in his office and posted in the reception hall following his memorial service.
Lewis’s son Jeremy sang “Bring Him Home” at Lewis’s memorial service. The introduction and lyrics follow:
The afternoon before my father passed, he watched a broadcast of PBS’s Memorial Day concert with my mother. I was watching the same broadcast from home. My mom reports that he was particularly touched by the concert, which brought him to tears several times. The concert included this song, sung by Jean Valjean in the stage version of Les Miserables.
Les Miz is the story of Valjean’s quest for redemption, the imperfections of human justice, and the perfection of divine justice. It is about a man who learns compassion, and who ultimately teaches his stepchild, his employees, his fellow citizens, and even the story’s protagonist to love by example.
That is the way I will always remember my father.
Bring Him Home is sung by Valjean as he contemplates the possible death of his daughter’s suitor. When my father first spoke with me about death in my youth, he did so very matter-of-factly. He told me that he wasn’t scared of death—his gentle way of telling me that anyone could be taken at any moment, and that no future days are guaranteed.
My father rarely minced words, he was honest, he taught by example, and he was prepared for death.
God on high
Hear my prayer
In my need
You have always been there
He is young
He’s afraid
Let him rest
Heaven blessed.
Bring him home
Bring him home
Bring him home.
He’s like the son I might have known
If God had granted me a son.
The summers die
One by one
How soon they fly
On and on
And I am old
And will be gone.
Bring him peace
Bring him joy
He is young
He is only a boy
You can take
You can give
Let him be
Let him live
If I die, let me die
Let him live
Bring him home
Bring him home
Bring him home.
If you love someone, you may suffer with them, but you will never suffer for them.
The promise/potential of an intimate relationship is that we may learn to value our differences and thus go beyond our limited perception and understanding.
If you believe that you understand someone completely, you are in error. We cannot understand ourselves completely, let along understand someone else completely.
No two people can experience the same situation in the same way.
When we differ with each other respectfully, we have the potential to understand/perceive more completely/accurately than we are capable of by ourselves.
As Humans: meaning is found not in owning things, but in maintaining relationships.
As Humans: we have a need to
make sense and order out of the world of experience
the people and things outside
the thoughts, feelings and sensations inside
When you make music with other people you bring yourself in tune with them. You become more than just yourself. You become part of something greater than the sum of its parts.
When we can respectfully explore and discuss our beliefs and understandings of scripture there is the potential that we may be led by the Holy Spirit in that process.
My life has been a quest for wisdom and the direct experience of God. (Occassionally successful)
– Lewis O. Moon February 2006
True power is power not to change, but to accept.
– Sparrowhawk in The Furthest Shore by Ursela K. LeGuinn
My God’s the pattern of the Universe, the harmony that transcends all that man can comprehend and learn.
– Unknown
In thirty years, I never witnessed my dad hesitate to provide me the time, energy, or attention that I required—and I was a demanding kid. The reality was that my dad’s life demanded he carefully manage all three precious commodities. There was just something about his nature—namely the unconditional love and patience he afforded all of those he touched—that left us under the impression that he had almost limitless amounts of all three.
As much as I mourn the loss of my father, as much as I want badly to share future joys and frustrations with him, I am grateful that I had thirty years with him. He was a teacher, and I will be a lifelong student of his quiet example.