"Rejoice in the Lord always..."

I try to keep this blog in chronological order and I hate to miss anything, but this is the exception.  Our sweet little Zip was born on December 12, 2013 and he is so perfect!  We love him so so much, and he is such a sweet baby.  On the other hand, while the first few months of his life have been so wonderful, they have also been the hardest months that I have ever been through.  On February 8, 2014, my dad passed away.  Dad was diagnosed with Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP) two years ago.  It was hard news to hear when we found out, and it has been hard to watch what this disease has done to him these past two years.  However, I am so blessed to have had such an amazing father who loved me and the rest of my family so much...but he loved our Lord first and foremost.  I miss my dad more and more each day, but I rejoice that he is with our Heavenly Father and I know that I will see him again someday.  I could go on and on about Dad, but I will keep it short.  He was one of my very best friends....he always made me feel like I was the greatest person in the world and everyone who knew him loved him.  He was always there for me....always encouraging me, and growing up I knew no matter what, he and Mom (and Hunter) always believed in me.  He loved our boys and Hunter and Anna's boys...and they loved their Gran so so much!!!  Zip was not quite 2 months old when Dad passed away, but I am so glad that he got to meet his Gran and that Dad got to meet Zip.  The picture above is one that I took of Dad holding Zip...that picture will always be so special to me- such loving hands (that were always there for me) holding our precious little Zip.  I said I wasn't going to make this long, but I am going to attach the words that my brother said at my Dad's funeral.  Hunter has a true talent for writing and speaking, and he did such an amazing job!  I like to think of this blog as a scrapbook for my boys, and I want to include Hunter's eulogy so that they can someday read it.  Hunter did an excellent job describing our Dad...

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Joseph Alexander Stanley, Jr

My name is Hunter Stanley and I am proud to be Joe Stanley's son. 

My father was an interesting man.  He proudly hailed from Jackson, Alabama.  He loved everything about that part of the country.  He loved the heat, he loved spanish moss and catalpa worm trees.  He loved the brightness of the moon and the stars and he loved the Tombigbee River.  He loved to go hunting in places called Pelma's Newground, Buffalo Bottom, Barnge's Eddy, the Gopher Holes.  He loved being on a deer drive and hearing the same old speech my Great Uncle Delmar Chastain would give before each hunt.  He loved running trot lines and seining the river for minnows...and the occasional unwanted Cottonmouth.  He loved looking for sign in the woods...deer sign, Turkey sign...any sign that any living thing had left...  He loved teaching his little boy the difference between the footprints of a Buck and a Doe.  He loved drinking from a particular freshwater spring.  He loved shaking the nests of squirrels in hopes that that same little boy would finally hit one with a twenty two rifle that was older than both of us combined.  He loved camping on the sandbar and cooking breakfast over the smoldering garnets of a charcoal fire.  He loved the old camp...and he loved the new one.  He loved eating catfish at places called Overstreet's and Bobby's and Miss Kitty's and Pops and Ezell's.  He believed there was no finer steak sandwich than the one found at Billy's Burger House on Coffeeville Road in Jackson...and I'd have to agree.  He loved counting hawks on Highway 5 between Marion and "The Spot".  He loved going to the family garden with Daddy Doc to pick out his very own watermelon on a hot Summer day.  He loved picking peas and okra with his mother in that same garden...he was proud of the fact that no matter how hard he worked, her basket would always outweigh his...  He loved his mother's cooking...and so did everybody else in Clarke County...  She passed away a little over 20 years ago and the old timers at First Baptist Jackson still talk about her chicken pie.  He loved his Daddy's love for community and sense of caring.  He also loved his dry wit and charm.  Once dad borrowed the family car to go on a date.  He ran out gas and called his father for assistance.  Instead of bringing a gas can, the man I called Paw Paw brought a chain and his old pickup truck and towed Daddy and his date to the nearest gas station.  Daddy was embarrassed at the time, but he loved telling that story.  He loved poetry and he loved music and he loved numbers.  He loved aphorisms and clever quotes.  His wit, in my experience, was unmatched by anyone I know.  He loved Auburn Football.  He did not love the University of Alabama.  He loved talking about how much he did not love the University of Alabama.  He loved traveling.  He loved trying different kinds of foods.  He loved ice  cream and he loved caramel cake.  He loved playing games with his family.  In truth, he would have loved watching paint dry...as long as he was watching it with his family in the room.

These things shaped him.

He loved Jr and Delmar and Joe and Gene Downey and Rusty and Mae and Luke and all their spouses and children and grandchildren.  He loved Dr Grady Ketcham, and Coach John Simpkins.  He loved Carolyn Rudder and Ada Chastain and his Grandmother Cora Mae Downey Chastain and his grandfather, Dock Lamartine Chastain who he and so many others called Daddy Dock or Papa Dock.  He loved his sister Kay and her husband Billy and their children and grandchildren.  He loved his mother Merle and his father Alex.  he loved Katie and he loved me.  He loved our spouses, Anna and Drew, and even our friends as if they were his own.  He loved his grandsons, Alex, Chase, Hank, Jackson, and Zip...even though he wished at least one of them would have been a girl...   He loved "Nay" and he loved "Z".  If there are angels among us, I believe "Z" is one of them.  God sent her to us...I am fully convinced of that.  He loved Matt and Kitty Wendling...and they loved him.  More than anyone on this earth, he loved his dear sweet Peggy.  He loved her with a fierce and joyous and reckless and beautiful love. 

These people shaped him...and he shaped them.

He loved God and he loved worshipping Him.  He loved building relationships and encouraging others.  There were times in college and Divinity school when I started to question and wrestle with issues of doctrine and theological perspective.  Daddy always, without fail, brought me back to center of things by reminding me, in a strong but gentle voice, of the two greatest commandments.  I can still hear him now, "Hunter, just focus on loving God and loving your neighbor and everything else will fall into place".  He never said it would be easy or that it would always make sense, but he always pointed me in the direction of Jesus' admonition.  He believed in the wonder and mystery of God.  He believed that he did not have all the answers and, for him, that made the whole idea of Faith that much more wonderful and beautiful.  I am thankful for being allowed to be around that kind of humble wisdom for so long.  He believed that God loves and protects us and that, while we should strive to do the right thing, God's forgiveness is bigger than us. 

This love and these principles defined him.

How did these things and people and divine love define him?

Dad believed in being tough, but he also believed in love and patience.  He did not put up with whining or complaining, but if you ever had a problem that you were wrestling with, you wouldn't find a better listener than Joe Stanley.  For example:  If I skinned my knee as a child, he would first ask me if I had damaged the concrete when I fell, then he would tell me that my leg would stop hurting when I stopped thinking about it...  On the other hand, if I had a broken heart or a difficult decision to make, he would listen to me all night if he thought it would help. 

And because of his love and his openness and his humility, I can say, without hesitation that I could and did talk to him about anything.  How many sons can truly say that about their father?  Sure, there are plenty of very good men out there.  Men who love their children in healthy and wonderful ways.  But how many of them have the kind of relationship with their sons and daughters that Katie and I had with ours?  I fear that we took it for granted.  Now, as we grow older and have sons of our own, we both realize just how rare that trust is...and how blessed we are to have been exposed to it for so long.  Dad was approachable.  I hope and pray that I will be able to foster the same sort of relationship with my children and Katie with hers.

He taught Katie and I to be strong but to be kind and he taught us by example.  He loved and protected us with great zeal.  He did not allow us to brag on ourselves, but he bragged on us plenty.  He wanted us to be approachable and caring.  He made us look people in the eye.  He and Mom believed that if they could teach us to put others first...to hang on those two aforementioned commandments...then everything else would fall into place. 

He taught and lead by example.  I've watched him rub shoulders with men society has deemed important.  I've watched those same men speak freely with Dad.  I've watched them being drawn to him like a magnet.  On the other hand, I've been with him in areas and with people that society might not deem so important...and he had the same effect.  It was uncanny to watch.  Everyone loved him.  Waiters and waitresses would take care of him as if they were related to him.  He had this way of setting people at ease.  He was at home talking about C.S. Lewis or Louis Grizzard.  It was not a salesman's trick, but it was genuine caring.  Genuine and authentic caring and love.  Loving neighbors...regardless of their social standing, their gender, their race, their sexual orientation.  We've heard countless stories of the fairness he displayed while he was a manager with Bellsouth.  Dad, even though he might be in complete disagreement on a political or spiritual level, was able to relate.  I watched it happen with a tattooed waitress in Asheville, NC, and a hardened farmer in rural Alabama.  It was truly uncanny.  This is the sort of love Jesus put in him and if Dad were standing here today, he'd give credit where credit is due.

He loved us with a careful, protective, zealous love. 

He loved Katie by being what a father should be to a daughter.  He was always available.  Katie is pretty and smart but, even if she wasn't, he would have told her she was.  He modeled for her what she should expect from a man.  If it hadn't been for Dad's model, I doubt she would have chosen so fine a man as my brother-in-law, Drew Cochran.  I'm very protective of her - so those aren't empty words.  When Katie got married, Dad committed to take lunch to her once a week so that he could sit with her at her place of employment to share a meal.  He loved her deeply and dearly.

He loved me by simply being present and persistent.  He taught me to hunt and fish and how to throw a ball.  He also encouraged me to pursue my love for writing songs and poetry.  He enjoyed listening to things I had written...no matter how bad they were.  If I asked him to read a book, he would, without fail, read it.  He would be honest about his opinion of it, but he would read it.  He met me for lunch on a weekly basis as well.  In college, I had a failed attempt to be a ski bum in Colorado.  He met me at the Birmingham Greyhound Station at 3am.  I had ridden a bus for 48 hours from Vail, CO.  I was standing with my new buddies - one of whom was holding his prize fighting rooster under his arm (see- I have a bit of my dad's magnetic authenticity as well - I'm just not as good at pointing it in the right direction!).  Dad never uttered a word of "I told you so" but, like the prodigal's father, he embraced me on that cold morning and drove me home.

He loved my mother more than I have ever known any man to love a woman.  They survived Vietnam...and they survived Baton Rouge.  Not quite the same but Mama always said south Louisiana was like another country.  Mama has said several times over the past couple of years that she was unaware of just how much he did for her.  He handled everything.  He helped around the house and in the kitchen.  He took care of finances and yard work and made sure that she knew she was precious to him on a daily basis.  When he was able, he would cut fresh fruit for her in the mornings and simply spend time with her.  He loved her and she loves him.  I will say that, while she will deny it, my mother is an easy person to love and if Dad could be standing here speaking, he would make that very clear to everyone here.  She is a precious and generous soul and she has insight into human suffering that many of us will never know.  She is a true hero to our family and we hope that we can somehow attain a fraction of the strength she has displayed.

I'll end with something I heard yesterday.  A dear friend's father passed away the day before Dad did.  Anna and I attended the funeral.  It was at St George Greek Melkite Catholic Church.  The priest shared something I thought to be profound.  He said that the devil loves funerals because he wants you to think, "this is it...this is the end".  He went on to say that, in the early Christian Church, funeral attendees would not greet each other with "I'm sorry", but they would say "the Messiah comes...Christ is risen".  Dad would understand our need to grieve our loss, but he would want us to say, "the Messiah comes...Christ is risen".  He would want his life and legacy to point us towards the hope and renewal of the Gospel. 

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.  Our family loves each one of you.  Daddy loved each one of you. 

"The Messiah comes...Christ is risen".