|
The Rev. Frank
Logue
A Body of England’s The Apostle Paul writes in our Epistle reading for today, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.” So we gather today to grieve not as others do. Yes, we gather in the midst of very real grief, and mourning and true loss. But we gather to celebrate the 80 years God gave Florence Hughes to this life, knowing that though she has died, yet shall she live. For as Paul went on to write, “Since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with them those who have died.” Florence Hughes died in the faith and fear of the Lord and in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection. Her labors have ended. Her soul is now at rest. In the Gospel of John, Jesus gives us words just for this day saying, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” He goes on to say, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.” There are many dwelling places in heaven. And if this life is any indication of the life to come, you will know Florence Hughes’ dwelling place, because it will be near to that of her dear mother Lilian Hedges and Florence’s dwelling will be quite tidy, with everything in its proper place. She’ll be meticulous about cleaning above the doors and all those other places people forget to clean nowadays. This gift for putting things in their proper place served her well in this life. She found she shared her husband Arthur’s knack for book keeping. In the earliest days of their marriage she was a calculator operator computing ships’ cargo in the port of Liverpool for insurance carriers. And much later she kept things tidy when living in New Haven for a group of fundraisers who raised money for Yale University, politicians seeking office and others. Then she kept the books for a nursing home while Janice and Ian were in high school and starting college. Yes, her ability to keep order served her well and she used it to serve God too. I received a note yesterday from the Rev. Peter Rodgers, who was Rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church, New Haven. He recalls of his time there, “During much of that time Florence was the treasurer of the church, and demonstrated her devotion to our Lord and his church by her attention to detail and her faithful and careful management of our finances.” In fact, between Florence and her husband Arthur, they kept careful watch over St. John’s finances for 35 years. That is devotion. And she was devoted as well to her husband, Arthur and her children Ian and Janice and their children as well. Janice remembers her mother’s protective care left Janice’s friends scared of her mother. Janice’s curfew was earlier than her friends and everyone knew she better be home on time. Once when coming home about five minutes late, Florence was standing out front of the house as Janice’s friends pulled up to drop her off. All but the driver and Janice hunched down not to be seen by Mrs. Hughes. And the car barely slowed to a halt before driving off, wanting to miss the wrath of Janice’s Mom. Janice said there was no worry of her getting involved with drugs as no one would have dared to offer anything of the kind to Mrs. Hughes daughter. But now you are getting a one sided pictured of Florence Hedges Hughes. You’ve completely missed the image of her happily riding along the Devon countryside in the sidecar of Arthur’s motorcycle en route to a cricket match where Florence would argue with wives of the opposing team on a call she disagreed with. Her brother Tom remembers his dear sister writing, My favourite memories of my sister Flo [are] of our childhood. Five children (four when our Edna died) from a poor background growing up between the wars in the terraced streets of Liverpool. It was a struggle for our mother bringing up five children without her husband but I remember how happy we all were with the simple things in life. At Christmas we would each get just an apple, an orange and a penny in our stockings, but we thought we had been given the world.
Every Sunday we would go to the mission and after Sunday school we would be given a ginger snap, it was the highlight of our week. I remember during the school summer holidays we would set off for the Pier Head with four halfpenny buns and a bottle of water and take the ferry across the River Mersey to Seacombe and Flo being the youngest had to pretend she was under five even when she was nine or ten years old so we had her penny fare to spend. On the other side we would walk the six miles to Moreton beach to spend the day there and we would use Flo’s penny to buy an ice cream which we all shared. Even though we had very little we always shared everything, if one had an apple it was cut into four pieces one each, we had a strong family bond and always looked after each other. I believe this is where Our Flo got her caring, generous nature and her love of family which she carried with her throughout her life. Her generous nature and love of family are also remembered by her nephew David. He remember fondly spending Easter and Summer holidays with his auntie and uncle in Devon and writes, “I realize that this must have been a great personal sacrifice for them, living in a small apartment and married only a few years.” He adds, “Florence was like a second mother to me.” But their sacrifice for David was not through. He says that “Again, in 1956, at the age of 13, they took me to America, an experience unheard of then for a boy from the slums of Liverpool.” He remains ever grateful for that generous loving care of his Auntie Florence and Uncle Arthur. And you can’t remember Florence without knowing that she and Arthur were always first out on the dance floor to dance the waltz or the quick step, a foxtrot or whatever ballroom dance was appropriate to the tune. Friends referred to them as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but unlike Ginger, sometimes Florence wanted to lead. And when groups would sing karaoke, Florence would join Arthur on a Stephen Foster song or whatever he was singing. She would have loved the hymns we are singing today. This love of life could have been squelched. After all, Florence passed her late teens in an English port city in World War II. More German bombs were dropped on Liverpool than London and Florence was close by. One key factory was just 150 yards from her home and large bombs were dropped to clear the way followed by incendiary bombs to burn the wreckage. Like many Liverpuddlians, her family wanted to send Florence and siblings off to Wales to avoid the bombings. Florence made the trip to Wales, but insisted on coming home. Then she would stay out of the bomb shelter saying that if they were to die, they would all die together. Around 1941, passage was booked on a cargo ship for Florence and her cousin Mildred. They were to visit an aunt in New Haven, whose house Florence and Arthur would buy years later. All was ready for the voyage, but when Florence saw how many were booking passage in an exodus out of England due to the war, she wanted no part of it. She refused to go on the ship. A good thing too as that ship was sunk as it crossed the Atlantic. Had she taken that trip, she and Mildred would have never called on Arthur Hughes’ house to collect an insurance premium and we would not be here today. Florence Hughes had a mind of her own. She knew what she liked and what she didn’t like. And one of these choices will be reflected later in our worship. The English Prayer Book of 1622, which was the norm for English worship in her youth gave the words of the Lord’s Prayer as “Our Father which art in heaven” not “who art in heaven.” Florence would loudly say the “which” when praying the prayer. And so today, please be careful to say the words as printed in the bulletin when we get to The Lord’s Prayer. For Florence, this was the proper way to say the prayer and she wanted to pray it properly. She was always and everywhere and Englishwoman. She knew that there was nothing a cup of Orange Pekoe, Earl Grey or English Breakfast couldn’t solve. For tea cures everything. Yet, Florence Hughes did not always take the most obvious solution. When Janice was learning to ride a bike in the backyard of their New Haven home, she kept running into a peach tree. Rather than correcting Janice, she got Arthur to work on the tree. One time he came home from worked and lopped away at the limbs until he said “I’ve had enough for the day.” He went in and sat down. A few minutes later Florence came in saying, “Well, it’s done.” She had pushed the tree over and pulled it up. The same indomitable spirit that kept her in Liverpool during the bombings had conquered the tree that was getting in the way of her daughter’s bike. As her husband Arthur told me with a gleam in his eye this week, “I think I’ve already said she was strong willed.” But that strong will and mind of her own was why they got on so well. And today to get on well we may need something more than a spot of Earl Grey. For while tea may cure all things, it will not give us Florence back. But as Paul wrote to the church in Thessalonica, we do not grieve as others grieve. We do not gather today without hope. Instead we gather in the sure and certain hope that Our Father which art in heaven has gathered his daughter Florence back to himself. She used her skills to devotedly serve her Lord in this life and now we count on God’s grace to give us peace and comfort in our loss. For she is as the poet wrote[1]
dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Now resting with her Lord in the life immortal. For Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia. Amen. [1] From Rupert Brooke’s poem, The Soldier.
|
|
