In Memorial

Just over a week ago, we lost a mother, a grandmother, a great-grandmother, and a friend. Betty Roark Batliner passed away peacefully, in the company of her two children and other family members. She is survived by her two children and their spouses, along with 6 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren.

Betty was a tough, smart, hard-working woman. She knew what she wanted, and she pursued it with all that she had.

Betty was born here in Kansas City in 1918, and she graduated from East High School. At the tender age of 21 she married William J. Batliner, not too long before he would serve overseas in World War II. In the 40s, she worked for TWA Airlines, with the chief responsibility of hiring flight attendants. Later she would join the J.C. Nichols Company of Kansas City, where among other things she was involved in the development of Prairie Village. In 1965 she and her husband started Batliner Paper Stock Company, which they ran for 26 years. She was a devoted wife and mother, often working diligently behind-the-scenes to support her husband and family.

Those who knew Betty well knew that she was passionate about more than just her family and her work. She loved to dance. Ballroom dancing was something she pursued with the same vigor that she pursued everything else in her life, and eventually she excelled at it. Later in her life, it was a chief source of exercise for her. It helped her stay fit and active, and more importantly, it helped do what she could to fight off the realities of growing older.

Knowing all of this about Betty, it strikes me that we gather this morning with a complexity of thoughts, feelings, and memories—many of which we may not be able to resolve. We to look at such an accomplished life and very appropriately we want to celebrate it. We rightfully want to honor a woman who did so much, and touched so many. Many of you are living examples of the impact that Betty had on her world. Others of you will carry on the memories of the impact you had on Betty—especially the youngest of her grandchildren, who brightened up even her last days merely by their presence.

And yet, we feel loss. Certainly, she will live on in our memories, and in the impact she had on us, but she is no longer with us as she once was. Some may feel the loss of not being able to say what they needed to say to Betty. Others may not have heard from her what they wanted to hear her say. Everything is different now—and for many of us, it may not even seem real yet. You may find yourself missing Betty over the next days, weeks, and even months, in ways you never expected.

In the face of death, the Apostle Paul talks about this very tension that we feel, and he guides that we would “not grieve as others do, who have no hope.” Grief and Hope. He implies that we can grieve and yet have great hope.

This grief about which he speaks is not mere sadness, and certainly not self-pity. It is living with the profound understanding that our world is not as it should be. Vibrant, intelligent, and graceful women should not have to face the confusion and limitations of Alzheimer’s. Grandmothers should not have to sleep without ever waking up. And our relationships should not have to know the distances that we create between one another. It’s altogether right that we grieve, because we can more clearly see our final enemy: death itself.

But Hope is extended to us. God Himself did not leave us alone. The hope of which Paul speaks is the Hope that God Himself has conquered death because Jesus, His only Son, is

“the Resurrection and the life”

and that any who believe in Him will live. Through Him we can find life through hope. Through Jesus we are offered the hope that death need not be the last word on this life. And this is the hope with which Betty faced her final days—hope not in her accomplishments, not in her possessions, not in her efforts to stay young. But hope in the One who calls Himself “Life.”

In the face of this world, every corner of which hears the pieces of a once perfect mirror falling to the ground, we hear the promise that one day He will make all things new. Living with hope along-side deep grief is hearing and believing the words of Jesus, that He will

“wipe away every tear from their eyes,

and death shall be no more,

neither shall there be mourning

nor crying nor pain

anymore.”

Jesus offers to us hope.

Heeding the words of Paul, may we grieve. May we shed honest tears. May we allow the ache of loss to linger within us. And yet, may we also find Hope in HIM who alone is making all things new.

“So teach us to number our days

that we may get a heart of wisdom . . .

and establish the work of our hands”