A little church in Alabama with rough-hewn walls holds a glittering stained glass window with this expression: Not lost but gone before.
Stained glass window in St. Johns Church, near Forkland, Alabama Featured in ALABAMA magazine, November/December 2017
The saying in golden glass ends with a period though it’s not a complete sentence. Yet those five words reflect on a real ending to a human life . . . separation from a loved one by death . . . one whom the writer hopes to see again in the next life.
In my own family archives I have funeral leaflets for several family members who have gone before on both sides of my family tree. Here are two, both on my paternal side:
- Great Grandma Mary Martin who died a year before I was born
- Grandpa Henry Longenecker, who died when I was a little girl
Mary Elizabeth Horst Martin
My great grandmother, though dressed plainly, had a reputation for being saucy, high-spirited, and benevolent:
Some observations about Great Grandma Mary who died the year before I was born:
- bunny-cheeked with a crinkly smile, her laughing eyes in sharp contrast to her prayer-capped head and long dark dress topped with a cape shaped like a triangle, pointed to a V at her waist
- hospitable, invited strangers to the family table and made space for the homeless to sleep in a family bedroom upstairs
Her memorial leaflet designed in the art nouveau style was decorated with orange roses and lines lifted from a Tennyson poem. She was born this week in February 1865 near the end of the Civil War, 153 years ago.
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Henry Risser Longenecker
I have two recollections of my Grandfather Henry Longenecker who died when I was five. One flash memory is of his killing a snake in the front lawn of the homeplace. Another is buying me a soft drink in a cold, curvy glass bottle after I asked him, “Grandpa, how do you spell Pepsi?”
Grandpa Henry was reputed to be shy and “all business.” Family lore has it that Henry as owner of H. R. Longenecker & Sons chauffeured President-elect Woodrow Wilson in a Model A Ford from York to Lancaster, Pennsylvania sometime before his term in office 1913 – 1921.
His memorial leaflet was typewritten on paper with a lovely texture, the only fancy thing about his commemoration. In those days it was customary to include “please omit flowers” at Mennonite funerals because church leaders thought flowers in the sanctuary to be worldly and a frivolous expense even though chrysanthemums may have been blooming in Pennsylvania during this season in 1946.
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Based on their profession of faith, the description of heaven in the book of Revelation would fit their imaginings of heaven, where they expected to spend eternity.
The Ideals magazine in 1949 embellished this idea with its glowing cover of an earth walker envisioning the heavenly city.
Ideals magazine 1949, Ruth M. Longenecker archives
What do you think of the stained glass inscription “Not lost but gone before”?
How does this inscription apply to a loved one you have lost recently or long ago?
James Lipton in his Bravo TV show Inside the Actor’s Studio, has been fond of asking his subjects a parting question, “If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you enter the pearly gates?”
How would you answer that question? Or, whom would you look forward to seeing in the next life?
They are indeed beautiful and heartwarming words, but I always say that those we love are never truly lost or dead, as they will live forever in our hearts and memories.
Many, including me, would echo our sentiments, “they will live forever in our hearts and memories.” And, yes, they are words of comfort.
By the way, I am happy to hear that you are keeping warm in frosty France these days, even drying laundry the good, old-fashioned way.
Good morning, Marian! Your warm words are comforting–it is cold and sleeting here! 🙂
You know I am not a religious person, but I do believe what the commenter above said that people live on in our memories. It is lovely that you have so many keepsakes from your family members.
I remember those cold, sleety days in PA, not far from the type of weather you are experiencing in NJ. About the keepsakes: These treasures were our reward for sifting through mounds of trash about this time last year. Thanks, Merril.
I think your sister had much worse weather today. It’s raining here now.
That’s a beautiful and comforting message on the stained glass. I love the memory you have of your grandfather buying the soda, Marian. I have a similar one of my uncle, except it was an Icee, he purchased. I’m looking forward to seeing my grandparents, as
I have only known one of my maternal grandmother.
Your comment echoes the “hope” part of the title here. I’m glad this post also evoked a fleeting memory of your uncles’s treat. And, yes, we have much to look forward to, Jill.
Yes we do, Marian. By the way, I only have one maternal grandmother…LOL. I’m not good typing on my phone. 🙂
I get it! 👍
“Not lost but gone before”. Amen and amen!
Thank you, Linda. Your posts often reflect anticipation of this hope. 🙂
That is a lovely inscription. I think we would all hope to see our loved ones again. I would like to be greeted by my dad with a big smile and a “Howdy!” I too have saved the memorial leaflets of many who have gone before.
Darlene, I know you appreciate the past with your “saving” of family keepsakes. It’s clever that you can sprinkle bits of family lore in your young adult stories as you explore our big, wide, world. Thank you!
The picture of Ideals magazine took me down a different track, Marian. I went to the website to check out the history of the publication. I remember seeing copies of that magazine in many Mennonite homes in the 1950s and 60s. My mother also had copies of Norman Vincent Peale’s books on the shelf. This was the height of “The Christian Century” in which Protestantism and America (American civil religion) seemed to be fused and the “mainline” churches (or ones called that now, after their decline in numbers) and “evangelical” and Roman Catholic and even “sectarian” groups like Mennonites seemed to hold enough core values in common that they could enjoy a publication like Ideals.
Today Christian religion is carved up into subsets that don’t know each other’s language or share the same leaders, and, of course, all those subsets are now competing with every other world religion and with the “nones” and the enthusiastically atheist. I’m pretty sure one could do an American Studies dissertation on the history, meaning, and dispersement of Ideals magazine.
As for the greeting on the other side. I would love to hear the music of the spheres and through it understand that “I have called you by name. You are mine.”
Well, Shirley, if you choose to develop this “Ideals” idea further, I will remember that you have begun this exploration right here on my website. I find it paradoxical that one result of the global, digital connections we now share with others has resulted in fragmentation, disparity, and divisiveness. Maybe you sense another theme in the making.
Like you, I have been fascinated with the idea of the “music of the spheres” and imagine if my ears were specially tuned in OR if I had a different set of ears, I could hear it. Once, I played an audio clip of a scientist who thought he had captured such music.
Thank you for your careful comment, as well-reasoned as your own blog posts which always challenge me to go deeper.
Here’s a bit different recollection I have re: grandpa transporting Woodrow Wilson.
H.R. Longenecker chauffeured president elect Woodrow Wilson from York, PA (white rose city) to Lancaster, PA the (red rose city) during his run for the presidency. Grandpa (who sold cars & farm equipment) was the only one or maybe one of few who owned a Model A Ford car at this time. Model A is larger than a Model T.
Thanks for being the fact-checker here. I’m sure your information is correct since your youngest son wrote a paper about the event when he was a student. Someday I hope Ehren will share it.
I’ve updated the post to reflect the changes.Thanks, Jean. 🙂
We live on in the hearts and minds of those we leave behind, when we leave. So, I believe we are “gone” only physically.
I’d like to hear “welcome”, and would love to meet all four of my grandparents, who passed before I was born.
Yes, I too believe we are more than physical beings, Ginger. Our spirits live on – now in the hearts of our loved ones. Your grandparents would indeed say “Welcome” to someone they would cherish if they had only known. Thank you!
Oh, Marian, this is so true. You certainly are the keeper of your family’s history and it is delightful to “meet” so many of your kin. Indeed, our loved ones are “not lost but gone before”. They live on in our hearts forever and it is up to each one of us to keep their spirits alive as you do so beautifully here.
Thank you for the affirmation and encouragement here, Kathy. Yes, and you too keep the torch held high on your own website, especially with your influence on the next generation. Your memoir in progress is testimony to the value of recording a legacy of hope, right now “the edge of hope.” By the way, I think I’m on the “edge” of a title for my own memoir, which I’ll keep under wraps for now.
Finding just the right title is a huge milestone, Marian. I changed my working title to “ Daring to Hope” but that may change again. I found the title, Ever Faithful to His Lead, when I read a passage aloud at a writing conference. It was an “aha “ moment and it came from something I had written. Best wishes in finding your “aha” moment!😊
I like that, Kathy. It implies a greater degree of promise than your working title. Still, it you revert or find something else, that’s okay too. Our titles are a work in progress and so are we!
Thanks, Marian. Yes, it fits my theme of refusing to give up hope better. But being a WIP leaves it open to other possibilities.
Marian — I love that your great grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Horst Martin, was “saucy, high-spirited, and benevolent.”
You asked, “If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you enter the pearly gates?”
Bending over with laughter, I’d love for God to say, “Laurie, you crack me up!” To make God laugh is my idea of icing on the proverbial cake.
If, as I believe, we are made in God’s image, the divine has a sense of humor as you are endowed with in heaps! Thanks for sharing your unique take on the topic.
By the way, I really enjoyed your visit with Sarah Jordan yesterday via podcast and noticed lots of sparks of insight in the back and forth exchange.
Marian — Thank you so much for taking the time to listen to the podcast. I appreciate YOU! 🙂
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Marian, just returned from a memorial service of a dear, good friend, and also my daughter’s mother-in-law. So sad to see her go very suddenly at age 71, after a cancer diagnosis only a month ago. “Not lost but gone before” sounds good to me right now!
Attending a memorial service puts one into a different frame of mind, doesn’t it, Elfrieda. Your comment prompted me to think of the hopeful passage in I Thessalonians 4:14-18, one which I clearly remember John Kennedy reading at the funeral of his mother Jackie Onassis. The recitation was startling, appropriate, and memorable. My condolences to you and your family at this time.
Beautiful post, Marian, and the comments you received are thoughtful and interesting. I believe in a Spirit who stays with us always, so when I die, I think I’ll feel back ‘home’ completely. A week before my Dad died (a spiritual man who talked little about his religion, but raised me going to church every Sunday),he told me he didn’t believe that he lived on after he died. Devastating to me. But I was with him when he took his last breath, and I believe he found ‘home,’ and I’ve felt him with me many many times. <3
Thank you for shring this anecdote about your father, Pamela. My sister reports that at the moment of our mother passing from this life to the next, she felt an actual “flutter” perhaps like wings moving from my mother’s body upward. I am so sorry I was not present to experience this event, but I believe it actually happened and that I will see her in her “home” again one day.
I am happy you feel your father’s presence with you often. In that sense too, he lives on.
Yes, he does. So much for us to ponder. I think the answers lie within us, if we stop and listen….? <3
🙂
Much to think about here Marian especially what I’d like G.d to say at the pearly gates. Makes me think of what I’d like written on my tombstone-if I ever had one. I think I’d like G.d or St. Peter to say ‘you’re home’.
I keep the printed services of funerals – for a while at least. Especially when the words of eg Amazing Grace are printed.
That’s a lovely sentiment, “You’re home,” which reminds me of a song entitled “Finally Home,” with a link here: https://youtu.be/oRQM7_FjnxU
The words of Amazing Grace seem to resonate across cultures, I imagine because they are so universally applicable. At least, that’s how I see it.
I’m sure I saw that Ideals cover at some point, because for many years as a child, that was my idea of heaven. I could write much more but I’ll save it for another time. I do save the “funeral home” cards from the services or receptions of many church friends and family because so often it is hard to remember specific names of folks, or their relatives, or when exactly they died. No one wants to be forgotten–these preserve the memories a little longer even though most of us won’t be remembered say 500 years from now. 🙂 Interesting thought provoker here.
“No one wants to be forgotten.” It’s hard to discern how much that assertion motivates our actions while we are alive. I’ve noticed too that when a death occurs in a family, especially an untimely death, family members rally to ensure that the life of the deceased had meaning, whether it is through eulogies, slide presentations during the service, or (later) insignia on a park bench. Again, the statement “No one wants to be forgotten” rings true, Melodie. Thank you!
It is so memorable and special that you have these paraphernalia and recollections, Marian. The times and cultures differ so much from each other as to customs at funerals and other events. “Not lost but gone before” has an open ending to me. While loved ones have gone before, they are never truly lost from our lives or minds. I think about my dear grandma daily, thanks to a necklace I have, the memoir I’m working on and wonderful memories. I’d love to see her again, one day, as well as our two dogs that passed away too soon! And, of course, I’d like to hug my aunt again and my amazing sister-in-law. Most of these deaths occurred too soon, thanks to the terrible C disease.
Exactly one minute ago (I swear!) I saw you on Facebook with boats in the background, and now here you are with a comment. Sweet!
Cancer took my father too soon, and others too. My condolences to you on your losses as well. I’m glad you have memories now and mementos too, like your grandma’s lovely necklace. You can be sure I’ll read your memoir when it is published. Mine has been percolating for several years, but I’m hoping for a 2019 launch. Thank you, Liesbet!
I’m not sure what to make of ‘Not lost but gone before’. Seems like the sentence isn’t complete – gone before ‘their time’ ? I know I’d be happy to see my dad again when my time comes. 🙂
Thanks for being honest, Debby! My take: The phrase refers to the idea that a loved one who dies is lost to us. Cards of condolence often read, “So sorry for your loss . . . ” The idea from the saying in the (Episcopal) church window suggests that the one left behind hopes to see his/her beloved again in the next life, probably in heaven.
I’m glad your guy is on the road to recovery, and that you carry good memories of your dad. 🙂
Thanks Marian. Okay, now I get it. Now it makes sense. 🙂 My brain has been a little fried this past week, lol. 🙂
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I always travel a new and unexpected path when reading your posts, Marian. You draw me into a world that is not so very different from my own. I’ve always loved stained glass windows. They hold a connection to the Divine like music, or poetry. And the phrase is perfect in its incompleteness. To me it speaks of the oneness of all – the past is woven into our DNA just as it carries forth in our children’s.
We all carry characteristics, traits, and even memories of our ancestors in addition to living o in our hearts and memories. What we do with our one precious life carries weight an impact in all directions. We are not complete alone, but only in community with all that is. Thank you for drawing my heart and attention in a new direction.
I am so pleased this post enticed you to look at one of life’s inevitabilities in a new way, Dorothy. Thank you for adding to the conversation here, especially with the idea that “We are not complete alone, but only in community with all that is.” How true that is all through life, but especially when we mourn – a loved one, the death of a dream, or life as we wish it to be. Thank you!
I love the simple beauty of ‘not lost, but gone before’.
You understand beauty as all readers detect on your posts, the simpler the better. I agree!
My loved ones don’t feel lost to me, so the inscription strikes a chord with me. I like to think of heaven here on earth, but in your scenario, “Well done!” were the first words that came to mind.
I’ll have to call you Purveyor of Positive Energy, Arlene. Everyone else seems to be moping about the weather, especially in Canada, but you say “I am finding so much JOY in winter this year.
Thanks for stopping by with a pleasant reply today. Cheers!
Hi Marian – I always see you on Lady Fi’s comments, so decided to visit this morning. What a lovely blog post – I love that window and its saying.
My best friend died in 1993 of breast cancer, at age 29 – a true tragedy. I hope to see her at the Pearly Gates, as well as family.
Hi and welcome, Lynn. I’m thrilled you came by to read and comment. My condolences to you. Even though the loss happened years ago, you still miss her.
You are always welcome here. Do visit again. I always posts on Wednesdays. 🙂
I love those words and the history of memorial leaflets, Marian. The words speak to me about what I’ve experienced from this side. (I don’t have a strong sense of what happens on the other side, but I imagine Vic will accompany me as long as my soul and imagination stay together.) Vic and many others I love have gone before, but they are never lost. Vic is right here in my heart every morning when I wake up and at night when I climb into bed. He’ll be with me when I visit dear friends in AZ and go to some of the places we went together. I’m strong enough to do that now because I’ve learned that he’s here in me. For now, that’s all I need to know. It would be lovely to see him on the other side, but what will he be there and what will I be? My imagination fails. I know and experience him here on my land as I walk the trails. He’s there in my inner calling out this morning, “Hey Vic, the bluebirds have arrived. Would you look at that blue boy?” He’s here in my writing our stories, in our sons and friends, and in his mother who for the first time this week was able to speak with me about his death with tenderness and longing rather than rage. I wrote down her words (of course).
She had to wait ten years to move her anger toward god and all of life for taking away her son. As long as anger was there, it did feel like she lost him. Maybe with love, she’ll feel his return.
I enjoy our long chats here, Elaine. So pleased I am that before death Virginia has exchanged rage for tenderness and longing, an extension of grace in her case I would say.
Perhaps your monumental mother-in-law (I always think of her as a towering figure!) is a microcosm of what could happen in this tumultuous world if we can move from rage to something else. We have heard women voicing outrage about abuse in the last six months and now children have been speaking up for gun laws. “Every great change begins with chaos” is coming true again. And again!
“If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you enter the pearly gates?” “Welcome, my child!”
Whom would you look forward to seeing in the next life? My young friend, Eddie. Eddie died of polio in 1948. He was about a year older than I was. He was everyone’s friend. He loved Jesus. He told his mother, the day before he died, not to cry because he was going to go to be with Jesus!
I’m glad I never close comments on older blog posts because this post obviously offered you comfort. Thank you for sharing this anecdote about your young friend Eddie. You will meet him in heaven some day, that’s for sure.