Time to put the flag at half mast for Aunt Florence Vandenberg-Moran

My mom had 11-brothers and sisters which means that I started life with 22 aunts and uncles.

Early this morning, my Aunt Florence Vandenberg-Moran died in Destin Florida.  She was in her mid-eighties.

It's easy to gloss over the significance of an individual person like Aunt Florence in my life.  My aunts and uncles were always one corner of the foundation that I built my life on. 

Coming from a single parent family, I relied more than I like to think on the examples and support of each one.  There was always Uncle Wes, Uncle Paul, Uncle Ralph, Aunt Aileen, another Uncle Paul--Florence's late husband, Uncle Charles, Aunt Emma, Uncle Ed and the list goes on.

As a group, I saw my aunts and uncles live through the stresses and strains of everyday life.  They had their victories and defeats and they had their disagreements.  As a young boy, I carefully watched and took mental notes that I later used in my own life.

There was also the history.  Aunt Florence would talk about the day that Pearl Harbor was attacked.  She talked about her childhood when her mom and dad--my grandparents--died and how she was raised by brothers and sisters, including my mom.  She told about my Uncle Paul's days in the Army Air Corps during World War II and the stories that are now part of history.

But, I always felt a special connection to her.  When I was in my early teens and she was in a Lansing (MI) hospital, my mom and I traveled from Bay City to visit her.  I walked down to the State Capitol building where I made discoveries that would affect the rest of my life.

During the days when everything was wide-open to public view, I toured the whole building and knew that's where I wanted to work.  I did work there.  As a matter-of-fact, I just retired from spending most of my adult life around the Michigan Legislature.

When I was baptized as a baby, I was dressed in a gown made from the parachute that helped bring my uncle's shot-up plane back from a nasty and costly battle.  My kids were baptized in it and so were my cousins.

Aunt Florence and I managed to stay in touch.  After my Uncle Paul died, she married Ed Moran.  Close to ninety, he stepped into big shoes and more than filled them.  He demonstrated what real love was all about.  He was totally committed to my aunt and never flinched.

I know that Florence is in heaven sitting in the stands someplace talking with my aunts and uncles  and my mom who are already there.  I'm sure there were many unfinished conversations that are being caught up on.

Through everything, she and her siblings, including my mother, always knew Jesus Christ and the hope that they would live with him someday.

That hope has now become reality for her.