Eva Isabelle Blann, 1920-2011

Proverbs 31:10-31
A wife of noble character who can find?
  She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her
  and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm,
  all the days of her life.
She selects wool and flax
  and works with eager hands.
She is like the merchant ships,
  bringing her food from afar.
She gets up while it is still night;
  she provides food for her family
  and portions for her female servants.
She considers a field and buys it;
  out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She sets about her work vigorously;
  her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her trading is profitable,
  and her lamp does not go out at night.
In her hand she holds the distaff
  and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
  and extends her hands to the needy.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
  for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
She makes coverings for her bed;
  she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
Her husband is respected at the city gate,
  where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
She makes linen garments and sells them,
  and supplies the merchants with sashes.
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
  she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
  and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
  and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
  her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women do noble things,
  but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
  but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Honor her for all that her hands have done,
  and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

I've heard Proverbs 31 many times in my life.  As a man, I was encouraged to find a "Proverbs 31 Woman."  This chapter paints a picture of this extraordinary creature who seemingly does it all - and looks good doing it.  Naturally, guys WOULD gravitate towards this chapter.  I mean, who wouldn't want someone like that?  Women, unfortunately, have been saddled with living up to this chick for millennia.  Her children may rise up and called her blessed.  But future generations call her "troublemaker" and "curve wrecker."

When I was thinking about the life of Eva Blann, it was harder for me to put into words all that I wanted to say.  When her husband, H John Blann, passed away two years ago (almost exactly two years), the words just flowed out like my tears.  I had spent so much time with him that it just poured out.  But when I tried to put a point to my thoughts on Grandma Blann, it wasn't so easy.  It wasn't because I didn't love her as much.  She was as dear to me as my own flesh and blood family.  She treated me just like her biological grandchildren, even though I was an in-law.  And we had many conversations as well.  But it just wasn't as simple to express.

When Grandma passed away earlier, the first thing to popped to mine was Proverbs 31.  And finally I knew what to say.  I think my confusion came because there was SO MUCH to put down.  As I read through that passage again, I saw Grandma's picture emerging through every line.  From the very beginning, about being a woman of good character.  This was not ever in doubt.  Grandma was the most noble woman of high character I could ever imagine.  I remember any time a joke even approached some sort of line, she would just smile and say, "Oh my," or "Oh my stars."  Heather has told me about when she was a child that Grandma sat the kids down and gave them a lecture on the meanings of euphemisms when one of the kids dared to say "gosh."

Her husband has full confidence in her.  She brings him only good and no harm.  I cannot even imagine a couple that were closer than Eva and John.  They were just a set.  But this is also one area that helped me to know why it was hard to figure out my thoughts.  All that time I spent with Grandpa - she was there just about every time.  She may have been in the kitchen and we were in the living room.  Or she was in the living room and we were in the kitchen.  Or she was sitting in her chair reading and not even listening to what we were saying.  (Or so it appeared.)  She knew he had stuff to do.  He needed to minister to me - and she let him.  She stepped back and let him do it, but was right there the whole time.  It takes an amazing amount of grace to be a pastor's wife.  She did it better than just about anyone.  She enhanced his ministry because she brought so much to the proverbial table and took absolutely nothing off it.

All the lines about wool and flax and making coverings for the bed just made me think of Grandma.  Every one of her grandchildren have an afghan she crocheted for them.  There were always blankets and clothes around the house that she had made.  When it talks about grasping the spindle with her fingers, I can't help of think about Grandma's hands.  She played the piano, she crocheted, she cooked, she worked hard.  Her hands were always working (vigorously, like the proverb says).  The thing that amazed me when I found it out was that she had nine fingers.  This endlessly fascinated my kids, especially the story of how she lost the tenth one.  She got bit by a snake while serving as a missionary in Africa.  And she lost her finger.  But that never seemed to affect her at all.  She did more with nine fingers than most did with ten.  And most people probably never even knew one was gone.

She gets up when it is night.  By the the time I rolled into the picture, Grandma and Grandpa were up in years.  And, as is required for all older people, they got up at Oh Dark Thirty.  They were up very early and eating breakfast.  They also used their early mornings to pray for their family.  They had a notebook with every family member's name in it.  And they prayed for all of them every day.  They also prayed for friends and missionaries and pastors and leaders and anyone else you asked them to.  That's how they operated.

So many other little phrases just jump out to me.  Opens her arms to the poor.  She speaks with wisdom. She watches over her household - and can tell you exactly when the garage went up when you got home.  It was like the passage was written about this woman.  She did all of those things.  She never knew a stranger.  Grandma and Grandpa knew everyone who worked at the neighborhood Wendy's.  They greeted them every time they went there and talked to them like they had grown up on the same block.  This was Wendy's, people.  She didn't care.  Those people needed love and Grandma was going to love on them.

And when this tremendous woman's life is over, her children do arise and call her blessed.  Two weeks ago, all four of her children were down to see Grandma.  They came to spend some final time with this incredible lady.  The woman who watched her new husband leave on a boat to serve in Africa, knowing she wouldn't see him for months - if everything went well.  The woman who delivered a breech baby in an African field hospital.  The woman who raised four of the godliest people I have ever met.  She never stopped being that woman.  She used to spend time with my kids drawing and reading.  My youngest one, Gabe, had a special place in his heart for her.  He used to come crawl up into her lap in the recliner on Sundays waiting for lunch and have her read books to him.  He would pretend to "fix" her walker with a toy wrench.  And she loved it.  The staff at the assisted living facility she has lived in for the last few years were so heartbroken at the thought of this lady passing away that they desperately clutched at any hope to keep her there.  But you can't cure old age.  And time runs out for every one of us.  It was time for her to go home to see her Heavenly Father and be reunited with her husband.  And it was time for us to say goodbye.

You can't just say goodbye to someone like that.  The loss of a person that is so incredible just leaves a gaping hole in your life.  You know it is inevitable.  And in some ways you are glad, just because they aren't suffering any more.  But there is a gaping space where they used to be.  And then you look around and realize that they are a part of your entire life.  There are the physical mementos, like the old books and gifts she has given you over the years.  And there are the memories that flood back.  But a big part of it is the very foundation on which you stand.  She helped to lay that through her sacrifice and love and teaching and serving.  It wasn't ever flashy.  But it was always meaningful.  It always communicated the love of God.  It may have just seemed like a peach jello salad brought to a Sunday lunch to a random observer.  But it was so much more than that.  It was the fact that she remembered that the husband of one of her seventeen grandchildren loved that peach jello salad.  And she knew that he and his family were going to be in town for lunch that day.  And she wanted him to feel loved.  And so she made it and brought it over.  She gave him a big hug, like every time she saw him.  She saw his big smile at the salad and smiled back.  Then she quietly went in the kitchen so that he could spend time with her husband - knowing how desperately he needed to have someone like that invest time in his life.  And she prayed for him to get what he needed as she helped set the table.

THAT'S a woman worth praising.  That is the kind of woman I hope my daughter grows up to be like.  That is the kind of woman I hope my sons are blessed enough to marry.  That is the kind of woman that I was fortunate enough to marry and that I thank God every day for.  [She learned how to be that kind of woman at the feet of her mother (another example of that kind of woman) and her grandmother.]  That is the kind of woman that never sees the limelight and never seeks it.  But she will be the happiest person in the world if you gain it.  (And she'll also remind you of the dangers of spending too much time in it.)  I thank God I had a chance to be a part of her life.  And I know I am a better person because she was a part of mine.

A Life Unordinary

The problem with Grandpa Blann, according to the world, is that he wasn’t interesting enough. By this, they would mean that he didn’t generate enough headlines. There was no scandal to capture the imagination. There was no flashy lifestyle to cause awe and envy. There was not a constant stream of behaviors and actions that seemed staged just to keep him in the limelight. He was too ordinary. Too common. Too boring.

But, to those who truly knew him, Grandpa Blann was hardly common. He lived his life in a wholly uncommon way. He loved his bride as they stayed together for 66 years. He served in the most remote parts of Africa. He led a Bible college, preached at churches, and helped lay the foundations of a denomination. As the decades passed, his expertise moved from manual printing press to computers and handheld computing devices. But he was more efficient using his older techniques and makeshift tools than most people are with modern advances. If there was a field he was unfamiliar with, he tried to learn what he could about it. He never wanted to stop learning - even when he could have been justified in doing so.

He reached out to the lives of every person who crossed his path. It could be the lady running a fast food counter. It could be a nervous fiance of one of his grandchildren. Grandpa loved and ministered to everyone. It was just second nature to him. And when it was time for him to go home to be with the Savior he loved, he did it surrounded by the family he loved and served. His wife was there to kiss him goodbye. And there was not a person in the world who had anything against him. And even though we knew it was coming, the finality of it all sucked the air out of rooms across the world - as we all lost a man who changed our lives.

So that may seem boring or ordinary or common to the masses. But to those people whose lives were touched by this man, we knew he truly was extra-ordinary.

H. John Blann: 1920-2009

We have had more than our share of mega-watt celebrity pass away in the recent past. Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, Billy Mays, Karl Malden, Steve McNair, Walter Cronkite. Each one of them would receive a huge amount of press. Some, like Jackson, would receive a send off as if he was some sort of world-reigning royalty. It is a shame, when people who became famous for singing and dancing and jiggling around and selling stuff and saying yes get such recognition, but when truly amazing people pass on nothing happens. Well, for one person I am not going to let that happen.

H. John Blann passed away today. He was 89 years old. He was survived by his wife, Eva; his four children, Rosie, Paul, Lois, and Richard and their respective spouses; his close-as-a-child friend, Nila; seventeen grandchildren and their spouses; and twenty-five great-grandchildren (with a 26th coming soon). I am the spouse of one of the grandchildren and dad of three of the great-grandchildren. I married into this family in August of 2000. And I have been blessed every day to be a part. Grandpa was a part of that. Actually, he was a huge part of that - the foundation of it. The way that Grandpa and Grandma lived their lives was the model that everyone followed. It was why the family is so special. As I think back on my experience with this amazing man, there are some things that jump out at me. And since I am a Baptist pastor, I always organize my thoughts starting with the same letter.

BLESSINGS

It was truly a blessing to be able to spend so much time with Grandpa. Not many of his grandchildren had the opportunity to do that - since the family was scattered all over. But thanks to the way things unfolded in 2001, we ended up living across the street from them. So for the last eight years, every time we went to visit Heather's parents we got to see Grandpa and Grandma too. That led to many discussions over Sunday lunch and while eating ice cream. (We shared a love for ice cream - I don't think either of us ever turned it down.) He and I would sit and talk about all kinds of things. Now to understand why that is a big deal, you have to understand my personal history.

My dad's parents died when I was 10 and 15. My mom's dad died when I was 16. My dad passed away when I was 25, and my mom's mom died five years ago. I never really had big talks with my grandparents. When I did talk to my mom's dad, it was not a deep conversation. We couldn't have been more different. And I think I talked to my dad's dad maybe five times in my life. (He lived in Vermont.) We were not very close to our extended family, except my mom's mom. I have been able to establish some stronger relationships with some of those people later in life - but growing up there was not much there. So to marry into a family where the ENTIRE family was involved in everything was shocking. Heather's cousins came to her wedding . . . from Connecticut. Heather knows how many kids each of her cousins have. I don't even know how many cousins I have. (Seriously. I don't know.)

So sitting down with this older man and talking was a wonderful experience for me. The fact that he had served as president of a Bible school, missionary, pastor, and teacher made it even better. He saw in me a rough draft of a minister, and he wanted to help hone that. So he did that in our talks. After the scarring events of my first church job, and the failed efforts to find a second church job, he would gently encourage me (and sometimes chastise me) to keep my attitude right. He was so kind, but his words carried power. I would listen to him pray, and just be blown away by his sweet and powerful offerings. (My kids say one of their favorite things about Grandpa is the way he prays.) I wanted to be like him.

He and Grandma had a little book of prayer requests. They had every single family member listed and would pray for all of them every single day. If you asked them to pray for something, they did. They made friends everywhere. They knew the manager at the Wendy's. The lady lit up when they came in. That was just their way. I remember that one year Heather's family celebrated Christmas in our home in Orlando. My brother came and joined us too. Grandpa took a bunch of time to sit with Chris and talk with him. He just felt drawn to him. For months he would ask me about Chris and how he was doing. He asked for Chris' address and email address. That summer when we all were at the beach, Chris came up to spend a day. Grandpa again made sure he had time to spend with him. This was my brother - and Grandpa was invested in him. It was truly telling they way the "in-laws" in the family felt about him - we loved him like he was our own grandfather, maybe even more.

When I started Defender Ministries, I sat down with Grandpa and Grandma to talk to them about what I was doing. I kind of wanted their blessing - and their prayers. I explained how big the internet porn issue had become worldwide. I told them about what we wanted to do - how we planned on helping people deal with things, with technology. They sat there and cried. They told me that the problem had never affected them, but they knew how big of an issue it was. They had read about it in a Christian magazine (and they saved me every article they ever found after that). And they knew how I had struggled with things - and had prayed for me for years after I had shared that with them. As I worked getting Defender going, I found much opposition from pastors and churches - people who didn't want to deal with the problem or admit there was one. Church members would kind of raise their eyebrows at me about it. But these two people in their 80s, who I can believe never ever had seen a piece of pornography in their lives, knew that it was something that needed to be addressed.

BOOKS

One of the earliest and deepest connections I had with Grandpa was over books. I remember that Grandpa and Grandma were visiting before they had moved to Florida. They were reading books and I offered to let Grandpa borrow a book that I loved - Philip Yancey's The Bible Jesus Read. Grandpa thanked me, but said he wanted some lighter fare for their trip. I said I understood. A couple hours later, he came and apologized and said he would love to read it. He had realized I was trying to reach out to him and he didn't want to lose that chance. He plowed through the book and then came and told me how much he loved it. He said that he had learned some things he had never thought about. What!?! This was an octogenarian who had spent the better part of sixty years in a ministerial role - and he got things out of a book that I had recommended? In fact, Grandpa went out and bought several other Yancey books and read them too, discussing them with me.

This was not uncommon. The love of books runs deep and strong through Heather's family and through mine. (Yes, our kids devour books like other kids go after video games.) There is a story Heather has told me about when her older brother, Andy, was in school. He had to read The Fountainhead for class. Grandpa wanted to know what that was about, so he went out and bought it and read it - just so he could help Andy with it. A 70 year old man read a 700 page book on secular humanism to help his grandson understand it. That still blows me away.

Another year, I was reading a book by a popular Christian author. I liked some of what he said, thought it was interesting. I bought a copy for Grandpa for Christmas. He read it and then gave it back to me. I told him it was his. He said he didn't want it. He disagreed with much of what the man said and he didn't see that he would ever read it again. He explained what he felt. I was a little offended and frustrated. I went back and looked at the book and then read the Bible concerning the book topic. And, you know what? Grandpa was right. The book was wrong. It had misrepresented things. In my place in life, I didn't examine it like I should have. The emotions resonated with me, and it nearly got me in trouble. I almost headed down a path from that book that would have been very dangerous and wrong. If Grandpa hadn't been willing to hurt my feelings, I never would have even known.

A mentor of mine once taught that after the age of 18, the things that can really change you are the books you read and the people you hang around. I have seen the truth of that statement. When you find someone you can read books with, you do twice the good, I guess. As the years went by, Grandpa and Grandma started to give us their books for Christmas. I now have a treasure of old commentaries and devotionals that I got from them. And when I say old, I mean over 100 years old. What a tremendous gift.

BALDERDASH

No story about John Blann would be complete without mention of the epic Balderdash game that played out in Heather's parents' kitchen one holiday season. Heather and I, her parents, her brother Andy and his wife Michelle, and her brother Mike sat down to play Balderdash - and invited Grandpa and Grandma. They agreed and a truly classic event was set in motion. For those of you who don't know, Balderdash is a game where there are cards with obscure and bizarre words. You are supposed to write definitions for the words - they aren't right, just supposed to sound right. All the definitions, including the real one, are read and you hope people vote for your definition. This can get to be very funny. Usually, there are several times in a game where you have to stop and just laugh at a stupid definition. (Crenulate - what a mother tells her son named Crenshaw when he gets home after the street lights come on.) In this game, Grandma laughed more than I had ever seen her laugh. But to win, you have to be able to fool people - lie in a convincing way. I am VERY good at the game. Grandpa was NOT.

There were three problems with the way Grandpa played Balderdash. First of all, he knew too many of the words. These funky words that sound fake - he knew a bunch of them. He would just write down the correct definition. So he would get points each time he did that. But when he didn't know the word, he didn't quite get how to write a fake definition. So it was obvious that his was not right - and that it was written by him. They all had a similar quality. So he never got points there. The last problem was when it came to his turn to read the definitions. He collected all the pieces. As he read them, he commented on them. Now, the reader is supposed to be stoic - just reading the words without facial expression or comment. They are supposed to read over them so they don't trip over words. Grandpa took a different approach. He would read one and say things like, "Whatever" or "I have no idea what that means" or "I can't read what this person even wrote." We all just sat there and stared at each other, trying not to bust out laughing. Heather's brother, Andy, is so sweet. He tries to be very kind and careful with his words. He just kept going, "Wow. Uh. Wow." Finally, he just looked at all of us, shrugged, and said, "Well, um, I guess we should just not count that round. Sound good?" None of this should have come as a surprise to any of us. He was brilliant, straight forward, and honest. He was funny too - with a whip fast wit. But we all should have know he never would be good at a game that is based on leading people astray - his whole life was lived doing the opposite.

BLOGS

I have a blog. Grandpa read my blog. He wanted to start his own. And this began a two year process that never did come to fruition. He was fascinated with technology. Both he and Grandma had computers and spend lots of time on them - surfing the web, emailing, reading the Bible. He used to take great pride in his Jornata - a fancy PDA that he received as a gift. We would chat about computers. I would show him some of the things I designed and printed - something he loved to see. This was especially cool to him because he used to use the OLD SCHOOL printing presses - and he was just amazed at what I could do now. Even as he slipped over the last year, one of the things he remembered was that I worked at Apple. He asked me every time I saw him if I still worked at "the computer place" and how it was going.

He never quite could get the blog, though. He wanted to put his journal online. But it never worked right - he never got it to do what he wanted. I would sit with him for hours and we would get things to work, but when I left he couldn't duplicate it. This was when I knew he was starting to slip. As a person ages, the things they learned last seems to be the first to go. And his love for technology was where I first saw the erosion. He would have lots of problems with his computer - mostly due to his making mistakes on it. He asked me every time I came (sometimes multiple times) about what computer Bible I used, if I had tried e-Sword, if I could help with the blog. He finally abandoned the blog hope.

One of my last big memories of Grandpa - and one of his of me - came on a weekend when Heather's parents had gone out of town. Heather and I were going to come up for the weekend to help check on Grandpa and Grandma. They had moved in by this point, but they had not all moved to their new bigger house. Grandpa was starting to have a lot of memory problems. And the computer issues were becoming greater. In between when Heather's parents left and when Heather and I got up there, his computer stopped working right. He was beside himself. "When is David coming?" he kept asking Heather's mom, Lois. When I got there, I went in and started to work. It was a minor thing - actually a lot of minor things mostly caused by user error. I got everything up and running and streamlined some things to make it easier for them. He sat there watching everything I did. For months and months after that, he would thank me for my help. It was one of the biggest memories he held on to as things slipped away. It seemed fitting that it came over the computer - the place we had forged so much of our relationship.

I have written about Grandpa and Grandpa before. I did that when I did because I wanted them to be able to read it when they were still lucid enough to appreciate it. This post was for me. We spend so much time lavishing worship on people who don't deserve it. We are obsessed with athletes and celebrities. Every meaningless iota from their lives become headlines. If they get their hair cut or forget their undergarments or go on a date, the world just drools at the details. I wish that we spent half as much time looking at people who really make a difference. How many actors really change anything? A few have gotten involved in projects that change lives - people like Paul Newman and George Clooney. But most are self-absorbed egomaniacal babies.

We spent millions of dollars and hundreds of hours gushing about Michael Jackson. This was a person who refused to grow up, who was incredibly selfish. He was weird. He was linked numerous times to seedy activities. But people acted like a saint died when he passed away. They talked about the change he brought. But the only song they could even mention that was meaningful in an inspirational way was Man in the Mirror. In the long run, how many lives did he truly change?

I've always been a person who felt we disrespect our teachers, our nurses, our military, our public servants. These are the people who really make a difference in our world. They get no money, they get bad hours, they get ridiculed. Good students are steered away from those careers into "more profitable" and "more important" jobs. But without those people, the ones who invest their lives in others, this world would be a terrible place. H. John Blann was one of those people. He touched countless thousands of lives through his life. The way he poured his life into his family has affected all the people they knew. When I went to the Wesleyan General Conference in 2008, there were tons of people there who remembered him. They lit up when they found I was his grandson (in law). They shared stories about him. He was a giant. His entire life was spent reaching out to others and loving people and glorifying God. And this world has a big hole in it without him here - even if they don't know it.

Because I know it. I know he is in a better place. He is up in Heaven. He doesn't hurt any more. His mind isn't failing. He finally gets to see what he lived for his whole life. Maybe he is going to meet my dad - and my dad can thank him for loving me. I'm glad for all of that. But, man, it hurts down here. Thank you, Grandpa, for loving me - when you didn't have to. Thanks for reaching out to me and changing my life. God, thanks for letting me have him in my life.