The Great Bud Isaacs

This week marked the entrance in a great reward for a great man - The great Bud Isaacs.  I am sure there is a typo in Hebrews 11 because it should read:

And what more shall I say?
I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, BUD ISAACS, and the prophets, 33 who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, 34 quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies.....39 These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. 40 God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Others have written about Bud's early life and his accomplishments on the various mission fields where he served.  These exploits were epic.  I heard about them all my life, for Bud has known me since I was born.  He was famous for his adventurous spirit, his inventions which he engineered to solve the world's problems, and his ability to fix anything, armed with nothing but a screwdriver and a piece of wire.  More than that, he went to the ends of the earth (literally) to serve the God he loved.  Through many hardships and trials, Bud gained wisdom and insight.  His aim was to live a story which glorified his Heavenly Father.

Determination was his trademark.  He was not only a life-long learner, but became an expert in an ever-increasing range of specialties.  Then he used those skill sets in all sorts of settings, always willing to share them with others.  For instance, I remember going to visit Doreen with my little kids, and Bud was absent because he was volunteering at the church, wiring up the new sound system.  Even through his struggle with Parkinson's disease, he made adjustments to each stage with bold-faced determination - whether this meant finding a computer program to recognize his voice so he could use the computer, or buying a scooter to get around town. 

But Bud was also known for his wit.  He was more quiet than Doreen, but he could always have the last word - followed by "Oh BUUUHHD”, from Doreen and laughter from all in the room. At our wedding, we decided not to have any public kisses, and instead put Hershey Kisses at each place.  The MC announced that there were enough kisses to go around at the table, and so the bride (me) and groom (my husband) wouldn't be kissing if there were any glass tinkling shenanigans.  Others tried to have us break this rule.  But Bud got the last word.  He came up to the head table, holding his Hershey Kiss and slowly, while we watched, peeled back the foil wrapping, and ate it.  Then he went and sat down. 

I remember one time he came to my house and I served up some fresh bread and coffee.  We were having a discussion about a paint colour I wanted to try in my house.  It was a blue, but I had green walls and wasn't sure that the two colours would co-ordinate.  He looked at me very judiciously and said "Have you never seen sky and grass together?"  I acceded to his observation and the paint job turned out splendidly.  Another time, I visited with him and Doreen just after they had decided to use the home support staff for bathing him, and his comment was "Oh it is just t-riffic" - a phrase which denoted his reluctant acceptance of help.  I often use the term "It's t-riffic" to refer to anything that is disagreeable, but obligatory.

Bud and Doreen have known my family so long; they might as well be related.  My Dad taught all their kids at the school in Ethiopia.  Several off-school seasons, Bud took my Dad [and brother] on treks through the back country and experienced adventures together.  When we came back to Canada, we visited with them on their trips through our city, or our visits through theirs, and in 1986, when I moved to the same town as they lived, the Isaacs took me under their wing like I was their other daughter.

They found me a place to stay with a dear friend of theirs, who became like a sister to me.  They invited me over often, and made room for me in their lives.  When I got married, they adopted my husband into their family.  And when I became a mom, they assumed the title of honorary grandparents. My children called them "Grampa Bud" and "Gramma 'D'".   They cared about my family like they were their own.  I used to walk over to their place with my kids in the stroller to visit, or meet them at the park.  All the early birthday parties and many of our Christmas celebrations have pictures of "Grampa Bud " and "Gramma 'D'" in them. 

I remember inviting them to come and keep me company on the weekends that my husband was away with the Scouts on campouts.  We played Scrabble [although they were real sticklers for the rules, and I was not], sat in the hot tub, talked, ate, laughed and shared life together.  As a young mom, far away from her own parents, I cannot even begin to describe how much I loved having them speak into my life in the thousands of ordinary moments.  I remember when we decided to open our own business; Bud and Doreen encouraged and prayed us through each step.  I remember when they decided to hire me to paint their apartment, how nervous I was, because I knew what a perfectionist Bud was.  I think it took me many more hours to complete the job than they anticipated because I was trying to be so careful.  I think they might of have thought I would never finish.

In my work with geriatrics in Music Therapy, I have coined a phrase which I keep at the forefront of my mind.  It is what I call "The Bud Isaacs Principle".  That is, the person is still there. I am meeting them at this juncture of their life, but they have had so many more life experiences, knowledge and skill sets than I can ever know. In my work, I try to give them a voice. 

As Parkinson's disease progressed and took more and more away from Bud, I found myself wondering why God would allow him to suffer like that.  On the last visit that my Dad and I had with him, Bud said "I'm not much good for anything anymore", and my Dad replied "You can still pray, Bud".  I believe that he did.  Bud had a direct line to the God he loved.

Bud will forever be in my heart and treasured in the stories of the fabric of our family life.  I count it a privilege to have been 'adopted' into his family, and I can just imagine Doreen meeting him at the gates of heaven - he with "That took longer than I thought" and her with an ""Oh BUUUHHD".