November 2008

We've got an unusual suggestion for you this Thanksgiving: thank the evergreens.

Don't worry. This isn't about tree hugging. It's more about finding a silver lining. And let's face it: we could use one. What's been happening in recent months has been pretty scary. Markets tanking, banks failing, Congress in emergency session, trying to "save" the world's financial system. Who can blame us for being in a bit of a funk compared to last Thanksgiving?

Even the trees seem to get the point. In our neck of the woods in the Northeast, the trees were still sporting Fall colors last Thanksgiving. We were raking while the turkey was roasting.

Not this year. There's hardly a leaf to be found; whatever's still clinging to the branches is pretty much dry and brown. You couldn't find a greater contrast between two Thanksgivings. Just when we could use some cheerful red and gold leaves, the trees have gone into their winter "sleep mode."

While the trees sleep, uncertainty has got many of us slipping into "worry mode." Are those whispers true about something worse than a recession coming next year? Who really knows? Is this year's gray, bare landscape signaling hard times? It's almost like Mother Nature feels our pain.

Maybe it's time to check out the evergreens. Except for Christmas, when we dress them up for a few weeks, evergreens are usually just part of the landscape. But somehow they seem different this year. It's almost like they're there just when we need them to be: tall, green, and strong in the midst of an otherwise bare, gray, lifeless landscape.

There are people who are a lot like evergreens. Most of the time, they're just part of the landscape of life. But every once in a while, just when you need them, they're there for you. I want to share a little story with you about one of those evergreens.

I met Tom some years ago and spent about, oh, 15 or 20 minutes talking to him. But he was the sort of guy you don't forget. There was a goodness, decency, and strength, along with a deep humility that filled in the spaces between the words we exchanged. I know it sounds a bit hokey, but you had to be there.

I heard about him from time to time since then, but mostly he was a distant memory – until this past summer. While the sub-prime crisis was stealing most of the headlines, a terrible story was unfolding in his small town in rural Virginia. I'll let the Washington Post tell the story:

If you ever ran into Nokesville dad Thomas S. Vander Woude, chances are you would also see his son Joseph. Whether Vander Woude was volunteering at church, coaching basketball or working on his farm, Joseph was often right there with him, pitching in with a smile, friends and neighbors said yesterday... Joseph apparently fell through a piece of metal that covered a 2-by-2-foot opening in the septic tank, according to Prince William County police and family members. Vander Woude rushed to the tank; a workman at the house saw what was happening and told Vander Woude's wife, Mary Ellen, police said. They called 911 about 12 p.m. and tried to help the father and son in the meantime. At some point, Vander Woude jumped in the tank, submerging himself in sewage so he could push his son up from below and keep his head above the muck, while Joseph's mom and the workman pulled from above. When rescue workers arrived, they pulled the two out, police said. Vander Woude, who had been in the tank for 15 to 20 minutes, was unconscious. Efforts to revive him were unsuccessful, and he was taken to a hospital, where he was pronounced dead, police said.

I know: not the happy, uplifting ending you might have expected. But don't stop reading now. After all, the fact is even evergreens eventually die. But the difference they make while they're with us really does live on.

For those who knew him, Vander Woude's sacrifice was in keeping with a lifetime of giving. "He's the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back," said neighbor Lee DeBrish. "And if he didn't have one, he'd buy one for you." Vander Woude was a pilot in Vietnam, a daughter-in-law said. After the war, he worked as a commercial airline pilot and in the early 1980s moved his family to Prince William from Georgia. In the years to come, he would wear many hats: farmer, athletic director, volunteer coach, parishioner, handy neighbor, grandfather of 24, husband for 43 years. He divided his Nokesville farm into multiple plots, offering land to all his sons so they could stay close to home if they wanted, the daughter-in-law said. His eldest, Tom, became a priest. Five others -- Steve, Dan, Bob, Chris and Pat -- all married. And there was Joseph, who loved helping with all the odd jobs that filled the retired days of his father.

The Post article didn't stop there. The head of one of the schools where Tom served as a coach (for which he refused compensation) described his relationship with the boys on his team: "He was a mentor," she said. "He wanted them to be good young men, not just good players."

Mary Heisler, 36, of Nokesville, said she never would have come to Virginia as a teenager, let alone met her future husband, if it had not been for Vander Woude. She was receiving Catholic home-schooling in Texas when Vander Woude, who was helping with the home-schooling program at Seton, contacted her father and persuaded him to move 14-year-old Mary and her 11 siblings to Virginia to attend the school.

Her father obliged, sold the house, bought a yellow school bus and drove his family to Prince William County.

Money was tight, so Vander Woude took the family into his home for a month before lending them money for a down payment on a house of their own in Manassas...' He gave us half the home,' said Heisler, who met her husband, Tim, at Seton. 'I don't think he realized how many people he impacted.'

That's how it is with evergreens. They're always standing so tall and strong, they don't always realize how much they're doing for the rest of us. Tom was used to giving to others the way most of us are used to eating and sleeping. Peter Scheetz, assistant director at Seton, recalled a similar kindness.

"When my wife and I got married, we were trying to buy a townhouse," Scheetz said. "We didn't have any credit. . . . Tom Vander Woude ended up co-signing our loan for our first house."

But there's even more. After a period of critical illness in the hospital, his son Joseph survived. Everyone assumed he too would die. Septic tanks give off deadly gasses and Joseph was in the tank too long to live. His recovery was deemed miraculous by his doctors.

Did Tom think about the deadly gases and the chances for either his or his son's survival when he jumped into the septic tank to save his son? I think you know the answer.

His dying act was, "truly saintly" and "the crown of a whole life of self-giving," Bishop Paul S. Loverde said at the funeral Mass. "May we find in his life inspiration and strength."

May we indeed. And may we also take a moment this Thanksgiving to remember the evergreens in our lives. Somehow, they're there – just when we need them.

With best wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving,

Rick