Easter Songs and Sorrow

Easter anthems were still ringing in my ears as Don and I pulled away from our church parking lot. I turned on my cell phone. An urgent message. I was to call my brother Malcolm. Shakily I dialed the number. Heart pounding, I listened as he gently tried to prepare me. The unwanted words rained down on me! Malcolm and I had just lost our brother!

How can I describe my much-loved brother, Ward? Always the character and personality of one we love eludes our attempts to characterize, summarize, describe. Words are inadequate. And yet we often feel the need to attempt. I believe it to be part of the grieving process.

Since I am youngest in our family, Ward has always been in my life. As a young girl I idolized Ward and as a pre-teen I had crushes on his buddies from church. When he was in high school he was very fastidious about his dress and I enjoyed ironing his white shirts for youth group where he served as leader.

As a teenager, I was amazed by his masculine strength and fervor for God. He was always a big brother to me. He made me feel protected, cherished, and more beautiful than I was. I have a special memory from Jr. High when he came to pick me up after school in his Air Force uniform. How proud I was in front of my school friends. Ward was very good looking as a young man and I always felt flattered when someone said we looked alike. How I missed him when he left home. I remember his letters from Purdue University and Lackland Air Force base. He sent me little decals of boilermakers and later hankies embossed with the U.S. Air Force emblem.

As Ward’s family and evangelistic ministry grew, Ward came to Central Bible College for a year of additional training. Thus Malcolm, Ward and I were at CBI together during my first year. Ward and I even had a couple classes together. I studied with serious single-minded focus that year, yet did not learn as well as Ward did although he was caring for his family, and preaching and attending classes. I was still at the immature stage of studying for the test, while Ward was studying because he loved God and Biblical truth. I don’t think I ever told him that his example played a large role in maturing my approach to learning.

As we both matured, we learned to know each other’s weaknesses. But I think it only served to deepen our brother-sister love. Although we have been geographically apart most of our adult life, I cannot imagine my life without Ward in it.

He had a strong Christian faith and was always reading, thinking, and working to fit his life experiences into his Christian theological framework. Nothing made him more exuberant than the sense that he had found a fresh insight, secret, key to help him deal with the painful, discordant parts of life. Then he would hit another bump. But he would pick himself up and continue on. When we would talk on the phone over the years, he would share with enthusiasm what he had just read in Scripture, Henri Nouwen, Eugene Peterson, Dwight Moody, and most recently C. H. Spurgeon. He had a nearly photographic memory, retaining what he read with remarkable accuracy. I benefited from this gift through our conversations over the years.

Ward played a significant role in my spiritual life when I was in high school. He came home on leave from his Air Force duty and shared the new things God was doing spiritually in his life. Through his encouragement, I went to an A-G church and had a profound, life-changing spiritual experience which led me to Bible college and preparation for Christian ministry.

Although Ward had many disappointments and difficulties in his career choices, there is no way to measure the lives touched for good, particularly through his youthful evangelistic ministry. When I wrote to a high school friend this week and told her that Ward had gone to be with the Lord, she wrote. “I remember Ward and the revival services he held at the Belleville Church a long time ago.” (She would have been in her late teens.) “He taught me the meaning of the word advocate—Jesus as our advocate. “ What better legacy could one leave?

More recently when Ward spoke at our Mother’s memorial, one of my high school students who attended was deeply touched by his words. The next week at school she told me, “I could listen to your brother for hours.” My principal who also attended said that my brother Ward had the gift of storytelling.

He took his role as first-born in our family seriously. He was always ready to unselfishly help any of us who needed him. Without complaint, he made numerous trips from Texas to Arizona to care for our parents in their later years and, with Lorraine’s help, he cared for my sister in her final days. He called our Mom almost daily during her four final years with us. Of course, I believe it was mutually beneficial. She was a beautiful encourager in his life.

Ward deeply loved his family. His phone conversations were always filled with descriptions of family get-togethers and the latest accomplishments of his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. And whenever I asked how he was, he always gave a positive response and always, always added regarding his wife of 55 years, “Lorraine gets sweeter all the time” or “Lorraine and I love each other more every year.”

Ward was very emotive, experiencing many ups and downs, and was very open about his own weaknesses. But he never held a grudge. He was not suspicious. As kids we often had childish squabbles. But he was always first to say I am sorry-- even when he was least in the wrong. I don’t think I can ever remember him accusing me or blaming me—for anything! It seemed to me that Ward’s default setting was open and loving.

One of the things I loved most about Ward was his sense of humor. He made any activity fun. When we were kids he would do Donald Duck imitations to make us laugh. As an adult he just saw the funny side of life. He could always make me laugh. More recently on a visit to Seattle, I remember his teasing us about our Native American names in the Pacific Northwest: “Pu-yall-up,” he would slowly enunciate with a grin. “Sno-ka-homish, Sky-komi-mish, Sno-qual-ko-mie. “ I could never tell if he purposely mispronounced them or would sincerely forget. But somehow it always broke me up with laughter. His sons and grandsons tell me he was joking as they wheeled him into surgery the day before his death.

Ward had major pains in his life. . particularly the tragic untimely loss of two of his sons. And he was honest about the pain when I asked him. I truly believe it was his faith in God that helped him face and live beyond the deep wounding.

Ward had always been physically strong and I think that made aging particularly difficult for him. But he tried to look at things with a positive view. At Christmas time I talked to him on the phone and asked about his arthritis pain. “I’m fine. He said. “ Nothing I can’t handle with prayer and Tylenol.” And he laughed.

Ward had a strong family loyalty. I believe Ward always saw each of us as better than we were. And this unconditional love extended to my husband, our children and our daughter’s new husband.

Ward was very hard of hearing. When I talked to him by phone shortly before his by-pass surgery, I wasn’t sure he could hear what I said as I was trying to encourage him. But that didn’t matter. The years and experiences of life melted away. He felt my love. And he simply spoke those last words to me, “I love you too, Anita.”

Oh what I would give to hear those words one more time. . . just one more time!


Ward Campbell July 10, 1930 – March 23, 2008