Guest Post by Phil Kiper

     My Father, Roger Kiper, passed away three years ago this week.  Since that day, I have had time to reflect on his life and on our relationship.  He died when he was 85 years old and by his own account had a wonderful life.

     If you ever knew him for any period of time, you knew that he was a carpenter.  I don’t think he became a carpenter.  I think he was born a carpenter.  When I asked him to name his favorite childhood toy, he quickly replied, without any pause, “a hammer”.  One of his older brothers told me that when Dad was a small boy, he would spend hours sitting on the ground pounding nails into a board.  When all of the nails were driven into the board, he would turn the board upside down, drive the nails back out and then repeat the process over and over.  He was a child of the depression of the 1920’s, and money for toys was scarce. 

    When he was about nine years old he gathered some scrap lumber and pieces of tar paper from a building site and built a boat.  He told me that my grandfather, William, took him and the boat to Sugar Creek to see if it would float.  When they pushed the boat into the water, it floated, but barely above the water line.  He admitted that he had used far too many nails, and that the tar paper and coats of tar made it very heavy.  He always enjoyed the engineering part of carpentry, but he had a life long habit of over-building.  He didn't want things to come apart.

     Later, in school, he was taught carpentry skills in shop class by Mr. Chiddix,  Mr. Chiddix, must have seen his passion and talent because he encouraged him to pursue a career in carpentry.  Mr. Chiddix must have motivated many students.  They later named a school in Normal, Illinois after him.

     When he was 16 years old, he and a friend were hired to frame and roof a ranch style house in Bloomington.  World War II was raging, and many of the working aged men were fighting oversees.  I drove by the house a few years ago, and it is still standing.  My Aunt Kay once told me that when your dad builds something, it stays built, pretty high praise for any carpenter.

     As World War II was slowly ending, my father enlisted in the Army and was sent to Vienna, Austria, as part of the occupation policy.  He safely returned, met and married my mother, and settled into his life’s work as a carpenter.  He worked out of the union hall and was hired by many different builders for a variety of projects.  He was once fired from a job for using too many nails.  Many years later he was still amazed that anyone would want to build something in such a manner that it might come apart.

     As the Korean War began he was recalled to service.  He was sent to Korea where he used his skills as a carpenter to build structures for officers and enlisted men.  He was placed in charge of a number of Korean carpenters, who much to his amazement, would not use American saws, which cut on the push stroke, but only Asian saws, which cut on the pull stroke.

Roger Kiper in Colorado Springs
 before deployment to Korea, 1950

     My father taught me many things, but I think the thing that I am most thankful for is that he taught me to go to work.  He went to work everyday.  I don’t remember him complaining or whining about work in any way.  He simply loved what he did.  From watching him, I learned to get up and go to work.  I am sorry many children never have that kind of example.

     As a young boy, I was never very interested in building.  Sports consumed most of my energy.  Later, when I became an adult, I started to develop an interest in woodworking and building.  Some of the best times I had with my dad were conversations about building with wood.  Like many fathers and sons, we would often argue over many things, but we were always able to enjoy our time together when we were building something. I think it surprised him that some of his skills and talents had maybe rubbed off on me.  When I built my first house, he came to Tennessee for a few weeks to help me hang doors, install kitchen cabinets, and build steps to the second floor.  I don’t live in that house anymore, but I can guarantee you that all of the doors installed by him still open and close perfectly.

     Over the years my woodworking interests have gravitated more toward woodturning than building, but because of my father, I know good work when I see it.  A couple of days ago my 25 year old son, Will, asked me if I would teach him to turn wood.  Much like my father, I was a little surprised and very pleased.

     So hear's to you, Roger Kiper, builder of things that stay built.

My father made this table in high school shop class with only
hand tools over 70 years ago.  I made the maple bowl from a
tree that grew in my parent's yard and was planted by our
neighbor, Mr. Boyce, a World War I veteran.  The red vase I made
from a hackberry tree planted by my grandfather Moit.
The wood for the walnut box came from some walnut Dad bought
when he was a teenager but never got around to making anything
out of it.

Women of Valor: Cheryl and Peggy

I had supper Monday night with my two college roommates, Cheryl and Peggy.  We try to get together whenever Cheryl is in the country, to reconnect and catch up with what's going on in our lives.  As most of you will attest, when you meet up with great friends the distance and the time apart just seem to melt away, and it is as if there has been no time or distance between you at all.  This is the feeling we have when we get together.

I've written about them before.  Today I want to salute the character and the courage of these two wonderful friends.  They are both talented, funny and kind, and I count it a great privilege to have them in my life.

Cheryl, along with her husband Steve, is a longtime missionary to Hungary.  In fact, she told us last night that they are approaching their 25th year on the field.  In the past few years Cheryl completed the grueling task of earning her doctorate in special education.  Currently she is serving as an educational consultant for her mission board, working with teams all over Europe to identify educational needs in the children of missionaries and in international schools run by their mission board.  Further, she helps to design programs of study that will address the needs identified and lead to a better educational program for each student.  Her heart for her work and for the people of Hungary is always evident, and she bubbles with enthusiasm whenever she talks about either of them.

Peggy is a pastor's wife and leads many activities at their small church in Summerville, GA.  She is an administrator for the Christian school in her area and has taught many classes in this school.  She loves history, and we laughed last night as she told us about getting "history cold chills" when she teaches and tells certain stories from history.  She and her husband Danny have dedicated their lives to serving their community through their church.

Whenever I spend time with these ladies I come away full... full of joy, full of laughter, and full of encouragement.  Their words bolster me and affirm me.  I hope they feel the same.

We've all become grandmothers in the past few years, and we all relish this new role.  There is nothing like it in the world.  We showed our pictures and told our cute stories, just as any good grandmother would do.

We are each facing several challenges in our lives right now.  It was good to sit together and share our burdens.  There are no others I feel more confident in sharing these hard things, and in the sharing, we are stronger and more courageous.

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“Eshet chayil—woman of valor— has long been a blessing of praise in the Jewish community. Husbands often sing the line from Proverbs 31 to their wives at Sabbath meals. Women cheer one another on through accomplishments in homemaking, career, education, parenting, and justice by shouting a hearty “eshet chayil!” after each milestone.  Great women of the faith, like Sarah and Ruth and Deborah, are identified as women of valor.”
--Rachel Held Evans

My daughter's friend Rachel, who makes her living as a writer and hosts a blog, has a series dedicated to women of valor.  She highlights women she knows, and also had a contest in which other women could write a tribute to a “woman of valor” in their own life.  I have been inspired by these stories and want to share this story as my own reflection on a “woman of valor” who I have come to know.

Woman of Valor: Tammy Colvard

“Eshet chayil—woman of valor— has long been a blessing of praise in the Jewish community. Husbands often sing the line from Proverbs 31 to their wives at Sabbath meals. Women cheer one another on through accomplishments in homemaking, career, education, parenting, and justice by shouting a hearty “eshet chayil!” after each milestone.  Great women of the faith, like Sarah and Ruth and Deborah, are identified as women of valor.”
--Rachel Held Evans

My friend Rachel, who makes her living as a writer and hosts a blog, has a series dedicated to women of valor.  She highlights women she knows, and also had a contest in which other women could write a tribute to a “woman of valor” in their own life.  I have been inspired by these stories and want to share this story as my own reflection on a “woman of valor” who I have come to know.

Tammy Colvard is a long time friend of mine.  I have known her since she was a teenager growing up in our church.  She is a tough competitor, a trait that has served her well in many areas of her life, but one that she would acknowledge hasn't always helped her in her spiritual life and growth. After she became a mom, I watched the dedication and love she always showed to her children.  She has raised them with a strong work ethic and has done a great job of instilling in them the value of serving others.

A few years ago she and Beverly Key started a class at church called First Place.  I was a part of this program for several sessions, and I would say it was one of the most fruitful and transforming times of my life.  It helped me develop some discipline in several areas of my life, and I was the strongest and fittest I had ever been as an adult.

Recently I heard about the testimony Tammy gave at church about her work with the youth.  She has been a rock solid leader in the youth program for many years.  She continues to work by creating events for the youth to participate in and for taking them to camp and other programs that will help them grow spiritually and in other parts of their lives too.

In particular, she told of a group of girls that she has been mentoring over the past year at their request.  These girls were serious about their spiritual life and wanted to do everything they could to be the best Christians they could be.  Tammy has worked with them, led them in Bible studies, and facilitated things that they wanted to do like creating their own "war room" as in the movie by that name.

I am so proud of the woman she is becoming and for the zeal and tenacity that she has for each task she undertakes.  I am glad she is my friend, and I will always be indebted to her for the role she has played in my life.

And so I say to her, "Eschet chayil, Tammy!  You are a woman of valor!"

Tammy (far right) with some of her girls

Aunt Betty and Uncle Ralph

My parents with Ralph and Betty on St. Patrick's Day

Some of you know that in January I arranged to have my Aunt Betty and Uncle Ralph move to the nursing home in Dunlap.  They were both continuing to decline, and I thought they might not have much longer to live.  I didn't want them to die alone, and that was a big fear I had if they remained in Indianapolis.  So they came to Dunlap.

Between my mom and dad and me, someone from the family was with them almost every day.  They got to see my kids and Penny's kids, and they had several very enjoyable visits with Madeline.  Madeline warmed up to Aunt Betty especially, and it was enjoyable to watch them "play" together.

On April 9 my Uncle Ralph passed away after succumbing to an infection and pneumonia.  My mom and dad were with him when he died.

And now, on Friday, my Aunt Betty passed away.  My mom was with her when she died.  She had just celebrated her 88th birthday the week before.  She had several visitors during the week including her niece Charlotte and dear friend Brenda.  I'm so glad they came to visit before she passed.

Aunt Betty celebrating her birthday with my parents and
my sister and some of her family.

My friend Mary was there to celebrate too.

Throughout my life, Ralph and Betty had been important people to me. They lived next door to us growing up and their swimming pool was the center of lots of fun when we were teenagers.  When I went off to college they would come to visit and take my roommates and me out to dinner and let me stay with them at the Chattanooga Choo-Choo.  When I got married and had children they continued to visit us in Tennessee and their visits were always much anticipated and filled with laughter.  Oh, my, how Ralph and Betty could laugh!  It is one of the things I will miss most about them.  They could make anything exciting.  When we visited them at their home one of the most exciting events was waiting for the cuckoo to come out of their clock.

They also let us spend time with them in Florida.  On one visit we ended up being the worst house guests ever.  I had pink eye that I had contracted from one of my students at school, Will got sick and threw up on the carpet and we discovered that Kathryn had head lice.  Although they had to do some major cleaning up after we left, they were gracious hosts and at least made us feel as if they had enjoyed our visit.

In the last few years I have been through a lot with Ralph and Betty, but I have learned so much and this time has been a blessing in many ways.  I will never regret the time I spent with them in these last years, even though walking this journey with them has been one of the hardest things I've done in my life.  The decision to move them to Dunlap at the end was a good one too.  My parents have been keys in making their last days pleasant and comfortable, and for that I am thankful.

Visiting Aunt Betty back in May

We will lay Aunt Betty to rest on Tuesday.  The last time I saw her was the day before I left for Canada back on June 1.  I told her I wouldn't see her for a couple of months because I would be in Canada.  She said, "Don't worry about it.  We're leaving to go home in a couple of days."

I looked at her and smiled and said, "Well, Aunt Betty, if you get ready to go home before I get back, you just go on home."

And so she did.