Video, photos, poetry
The following videos were shown during the live-stream memorial, and can also be seen in their context in the main memorial service video.
Here they are as separate clips. Click full-screen for best viewing.
Here they are as separate clips. Click full-screen for best viewing.
Musical Slideshow - edited by grandson Steve |
Lift your glad voices - by the grandchildren, edited by Katrina |
Brother Dave - written & read by Andrea |
When peace like a river - by 3 grandchildren |
Carolina Wren - original poem written by grandson Nathan Miller, and read in the service
Why do you still sing, Carolina Wren?
“Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, Preacher,” he’s gone.
The sky is heavy, yet your song goes on
Though the preacher has left this world of men.
Perhaps you sing to remember when
He’d worship the Lord in landscapes he’d drawn
And proclaim His name at the break of dawn,
Or maybe you sing as his last amen.
All his life, he lived to show men the way
To the Savior above this earth we roam;
A way of life, grace, mercy and shalom.
Angels are singing on this Easter Day,
All around the throne you can hear them say:
“Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, you’re home.”
“Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, Preacher,” he’s gone.
The sky is heavy, yet your song goes on
Though the preacher has left this world of men.
Perhaps you sing to remember when
He’d worship the Lord in landscapes he’d drawn
And proclaim His name at the break of dawn,
Or maybe you sing as his last amen.
All his life, he lived to show men the way
To the Savior above this earth we roam;
A way of life, grace, mercy and shalom.
Angels are singing on this Easter Day,
All around the throne you can hear them say:
“Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, you’re home.”
Brother Dave - original poem written by granddaughter Andrea Stutzman (video above)
Either you spoke the language of bass and mullet,
or you understood something
about the ancient river--
as you kept company with woodpeckers,
wrens and warblers in many a wood,
they must have thought it strange,
your lack of feathers.
Your life was one long secret conversation with the animals:
hollering at a hog,
hushed whispers with the fish,
clucking after the hens when they escaped,
trading jokes with a pet parakeet,
listening for dogs and children
running in for dinner;
but you brought—us—all along:
invited us to communion
around a plate of short ribs,
giving thanks for the cow.
You guided any willing wanderer right into your joy:
sketched us scenes in pencil,
told us the best fishing spots,
lent us your walking stick.
And then you learned our dialects and
retold us our own stories with words
that danced like kin between the two halves
of your gentle smile--
no less holy than a sermon.
May you worship Creator now with the full consortium
of all God’s most admirable creatures:
a Myakka gator,
a Bengal tiger,
a Carolina wren,
a Japanese Silkie,
the catfish that got away--
the angels, of course--
and all of us two-footed Image-bearers,
your friends and fellow witnesses.
or you understood something
about the ancient river--
as you kept company with woodpeckers,
wrens and warblers in many a wood,
they must have thought it strange,
your lack of feathers.
Your life was one long secret conversation with the animals:
hollering at a hog,
hushed whispers with the fish,
clucking after the hens when they escaped,
trading jokes with a pet parakeet,
listening for dogs and children
running in for dinner;
but you brought—us—all along:
invited us to communion
around a plate of short ribs,
giving thanks for the cow.
You guided any willing wanderer right into your joy:
sketched us scenes in pencil,
told us the best fishing spots,
lent us your walking stick.
And then you learned our dialects and
retold us our own stories with words
that danced like kin between the two halves
of your gentle smile--
no less holy than a sermon.
May you worship Creator now with the full consortium
of all God’s most admirable creatures:
a Myakka gator,
a Bengal tiger,
a Carolina wren,
a Japanese Silkie,
the catfish that got away--
the angels, of course--
and all of us two-footed Image-bearers,
your friends and fellow witnesses.
Photo gallery of Dave’s life
Click photos to enlarge and scroll through gallery
