Lloyd Alton Peterson – A Man Of Faith

June 12, 2022 ~ Lloyd Alton Peterson

Like so many times before, I get to this space, and the page is blank. I am contending with countless thoughts, but none of them are a beginning. Memories speed past me like pickup trucks would if I were standing still on the shoulder of I-95 between Old Town and Island Falls.

I am tired after a whirlwind trip to the northern parts of Maine and back. I think that I was gone from my home for roughly 39 hours. Somehow it felt like four full laborious days. But I have a goal to complete. A collective perspective to share. I have reserved this time and space to write a tribute to my Uncle Lloyd Peterson.

Last night, during some messages back and forth with my cousin Dan (he will always be Danny to me), we both agreed on a wish. We wished that we could take the eulogy he delivered at Uncle Lloyd’s funeral, and rather use it as an outline to have a conversation with Uncle Lloyd. As in, wishing he were still alive here on earth. Implying that we could just set up the framework, feed Lloyd some material, and let him weave and build a lifelong story of experience, knowledge, testimony, and memories that would be an oral house of celebration. At least that’s kind of what I had pictured by way of the written word. Dan might see it differently, but the point was that we would (among many others) love to be able and sit with Uncle Lloyd one more time and be the younger generation listeners sitting at his knee, taking all of it in.

So, maybe, in some sort of a roundabout way, that is what I will do. Well, at least use the eulogy as an outline for a deeper story.

 

 

First though, I want to look at the definition of eulogy, and it’s close relative, elegy. For such things I count on Webster. Eulogy is defined as: a commendatory oration or writing especially in honor of one deceased. Or: high praise. With its -logy ending, eulogy means literally something like “good speech”. We are told to speak only good of the dead, but a eulogist actually makes a speech in the dead person’s honor–or often instead for someone living, who might actually be there in the audience. Interestingly, and innocently, I told my Mother on our ride up through Maine, that one of the attractions to me personally about writing stories and tributes regarding our loved ones, was that the loved ones themselves would be present to hear the speech. Not for the speech sake, but for the communication, the back and forth, the opportunity to learn more in listening. The relationship. Perhaps, going forward we should gather more often, while still very much alive and share the “high praise” while our loved ones can feel to their very core, the love and adoration poured upon them. I mean, who is this really about afterall?

I also brought up the word elegy. Elegy is defined as: a poem in elegiac couplets: a song or poem expressing sorrow or lamentation especially for one who is dead: something (such as a speech) resembling such a song or poem: a pensive or reflective poem that is usually nostalgic or melancholy: a short pensive musical composition. I think I like the eulogy definition much better. The Greek root words are closely related and in a nutshell, elegy is more a ‘song of mourning’ while eulogy is more a ‘good speech of praise’.

The bottom line to me is this. If you were present for Uncle Lloyd’s funeral service, or you were able to watch it (here is the link), I find it hard to believe that anyone would think ‘song of mourning’. I guess they call these ‘celebration of life’ services now. I suppose that’s alright if we need to feel better while dancing around the ‘rubber meets the road’ actual meanings of life. Personally, I think the truest celebration of life is in the living. Living a life as a lifelong service to others. As usual, us brilliant humans of the modern age count ourselves pretty clever in the naming, redefining, and restructuring of things that were just fine, if not better, in the first place.

Live life. Serve others. Lift others up. Know that there is a far bigger, and very rewarding picture that we can dedicate our lives too. Look to the simple, easy commentary that my cousin David mentioned toward the end of the service (link above). A brother’s needs were identified. Solutions were provided by his brother. No fanfare, just the meeting of needs. Rubber meeting the road. Serving others. Who felt better about that service to others? Everyone who heard about it. Who needed to know about it? Just the brothers, and God Almighty. Service to others need not be announced or proclaimed, it only needs to be prioritized and there upon acted on.

I believe that we all possess the resources required to help others, to serve others. The resource we have the most of is a tricky one; it is time. But time waits for no one. So, while many take actions to remain hidden in ‘busy-ness’ (excuses), hiding behind ‘not having enough time’, others, perhaps with less available time, split time or replace it by way of priority. Thus allowing service to others to rise to the illuminated marquee of the flashing neon sign that is our calendar of choice. Simply put, it’s a decision. And isn’t every decision a sacrifice of something? Choose your somethings, and live a celebrated life while you are alive, present, and engaging.

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Okay, so what does this have to do with my Uncle Lloyd Peterson? Well, an awful lot. Even more than any of us will even know on this side of heaven. I guess this tribute it starting to take some shape. Regarding time and service and the prioritization of such things, I am reminded of another comment I shared with my Mom on our ride through Maine. Maine is a big state, as least in New England terms. Aroostook County Maine is bigger than Connecticut and Rhode Island combined, yet only has the about the same population as Portland, Maine (67,000 +/-). Anyhow, the comment I made was about how my Uncle Lloyd (and Aunt Janette) always made time for me when I (we) visited, especially over the last 15 years. I am not saying that they had the time, they just prioritized the time. I really appreciated that, and I still do.

As I paste segments of the eulogy for Uncle Lloyd into this story, there are details of specific experiences and mentions of many others just broadly spoken of. That is because of Lloyd’s decision, or sacrifice of something else, to make these interactions possible. I don’t know what was given up, moved around, put off, discussed, argued over, or anything else about it. I just know that when I (or we) showed up, we spent time together.

It wasn’t just about the time either. It was a service to me or to my family. I could have just done my own things in the area. As he would have too. But he went out of his way to construct day trips, or visits somewhere, or to go see this part of the country or that part. He didn’t have to do any of those things, but he just did them as a service to me, and to others.

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Yesterday afternoon, as my Uncle Lloyd’s funeral service was getting underway. I was only 21 miles away as the crow flies. I couldn’t get to the service which broke my heart, and I was sitting on the shoulder of Mars Hill Mountain in Maine. My Dad was from Mars Hill. Since I could not be at the church for the service, I watched the livestream from a place that was so integral to the history of the Beal and Peterson families, that I found it an appropriate place to be. I pray often and thank God for being born into the Beal and Peterson families. It has been a blessing for the entirety of my life. Mars Hill runs through the history that lead to my parents and our family. I wanted to be close to something, even if it was a place, since I couldn’t be where I wanted to be. I was glued to the livestream with the sounds turned way up on the speakers in my vehicle. I cried. I laughed. And I cheered for those participating in the service. The service was absolutely beautiful in my opinion. So were some of the views I had from where I was perched. In the end, I heard that my cousin explained some of the planning, when he said, “I wanted to honor my Dad”. That he did. Everyone involved did.

When I was told that Uncle Lloyd Alton Peterson’s sons and daughter had unanimously voted that I write the eulogy, I broke down and cried. He was one of my heroes. Plain and simple. What do I know about writing a ‘good speech of praise’ to honor a man I just wanted to see again, to sit and talk with. To say that I was honored is an understatement for the ages. I am just a man from the younger generation that was blessed enough by God to be placed in the beautiful marriage of these two families. I am eternally grateful. I am humbled by the faith in me to honor such a great man of faith. I am blessed beyond measure.

 

 

 

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Eulogy Part One

Lloyd Alton Peterson

January 15, 1942 – June 1, 2022

Good afternoon friends and loved ones. When Joel shared a hand-written copy of today’s line-up for this service with me it brought tears to my eyes. Partly because of what the family is going through, but also because of how subtly, yet wonderfully, God arranges things just so. The song listed ahead of my time slot was, “How Great Thou Art”, and I teared up. Many of you may know that I have been writing stories since 2011 on my own website entitled, 1 in awesome wonder.com, and you might now make the connection to the wonderful lyrics from the song. Little did I know back in 2011 that I would go on to write so many thousands of words about this wonderful family, the Peterson family.

One of my Uncle’s favorite hymns. Mine too. The lyrics led to the very name of this website. Maybe someday the stories that I have lived, loved, and shared will become a catalogue of Peterson legacies. Or even a book.

My name is Steve Beal, and I am honored to speak about my Uncle Lloyd Peterson today. Before I continue, I would like to offer my sincerest condolences, many warm thoughts, and prayers for peace and comfort to the entire Peterson family. On their behalf, I would like to thank you all for coming to support our family during this difficult time. 

I have been asked today to share a few memories of Lloyd, and even though I have done this kind of thing before, each time seems to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever been asked to do. See, it doesn’t really get any easier. Mostly because each life, each relationship, and the personal experiences found in the countless moments shared, are not only unique, but they are vital to the memories we have of our loved ones. And when those we love have left us here until we too are called home, there is a very specific void left that was, for each of us, completely unique to our relationship with Lloyd. 

One of the most important traits of my uncle was his tremendous faith. Before I share a couple of Bible verses with you, I thought these words from the great preacher, Charles Spurgeon on the reading of God’s Holy word would be appropriate to always remember. “O living Christ, make this a living word to me. Thy word is life, but not without the Holy Spirit…Lord, be present here; then will I look up from the book to the Lord…” 

Jeremiah 29:11 says – “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” 

John 14:3 tells us – “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.”

I love this powerful verse from John 12, verse 32, Jesus said – “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.”

I felt that I needed to include some verses from the Bible. So I thought on that idea for a few days. During those days, from books I listen to, sermons I watch, or devotionals I read, the verses produced themselves. 

To me, Lloyd was truly larger than life, with his strength, his charisma, his conviction, and his athletic ability, among many other things. 

So, I share with you a pair of stories. These two stories span some 40 years which is hard to figure because I am not that old. Everything else is true though, I promise.

I don’t think I was 10 years old when I was allowed the treat of going to the Centreville gymnasium one night with my Dad and Uncle Lloyd to watch them play basketball. I think my Uncle Malcolm played too but he had a separate ride to accommodate his entourage. You know how things were in the 1970’s around the St. John River Valley. Anyway, the quality of the basketball was great. Dad hit several long jumpshots. His left-handed, high arching shots were beautiful. He also passed the ball better than I had pictured. Uncle Malcolm was tremendous, grabbing most of the rebounds inside and he scored a lot of points in the paint. Then there was Uncle Lloyd. He could really handle the ball. Like it was on a string, while keeping his eyes on the lanes where open teammates might appear.  He passed like he knew you were open before you did. He could sink baskets from jumpers to scoop shots, and beat people up the floor for easy layups. And just to make sure you didn’t think he was all offense, he would steal the ball in the blink of an eye if you didn’t protect it. I still remember that my face had to be aglow; all smiles, with my Dad, my Uncles, and me. I should also mention that it was a very snowy, winter night. The car rides to the gym and back were almost enough to make me forget all about the basketball. But with those veterans of winter driving, all was safe and sound.

If you any of you have ever driven the Charleston Road from the old Peterson farms up to Centreville, especially before it was paved you will remember the hardships of engaging that stretch of road. Even on a sunny July day you had to be wary, let alone on a snowy winter night. That night I will never forget, for both the basketball and the harrowing ride on the Charleston Road. Remember trying to get around the trestle abutment in a blinding night snow on the banks of the Big Presque Isle Stream? All I know is that I am happy I was too young to drive that night.

Then, fast forward to 2013, and I had the incredible opportunity to make a day-trip with my Dad and my Uncle Lloyd. These two men were not only skilled basketball players that I marveled at, they loved baseball too. We spent hours talking about baseball history. On a beautiful autumn day in October, 2013, the three of us left from Carleton County, headed to the Miramichi River, trying to find the old fishing camp that Ted Williams had on the river. We found it, and it wasn’t the lodge that it is now. As a matter of fact there was nobody around. We walked around, took some pictures of the river and of the white birch trees, like three boys in the shadow of their baseball hero. It was awesome! 

One of the best day trips ever. Uncle Lloyd drove and if you know anything about his road trips, you also know that there was no stopping for water, food, nature, or anything else. Although on this particular day he was gracious enough to stop for us when needed, we just didn’t know if he’d still be there when we came back out.

This was an absolutely gorgeous day for a road trip. It was a long day, up and back. We stopped in a tackle shop in Blackville I believe it was, and they had pictures of Ted Williams from the old days that were taken right there in that little shop. We knew we were on the right track.

 

 

Ultimately, we were able to find the old camp of the ‘Splendid Splinter’. There wasn’t much to it really, as the building goes, but the spot on the river was beautiful. We walked around and imagined how Mr. Williams must have felt to be there for all of those postseason visits. I just remember standing there looking at the river, the white birch trees, then my Dad and my Uncle and thinking about just how awesome that exact moment was. Truly, I am blessed. Uncle Lloyd drove the whole way. He used his vehicle and his gas. It was his joy in sharing, as well as ours to receive, and to spend the day together. It was a lot of fun. A day I won’t forget. My Dad only lived another 30 months after this trip, which only adds to the importance of the times we had together.

 

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Eulogy Part Two

Lloyd Alton Peterson

January 15, 1942 – June 1, 2022

• Lloyd Alton Peterson was born on Thursday, January 15, 1942. For some perspective of that era. This was also the same day that US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt sent his famed “Green Light Letter” to Major League Baseball Commissioner Judge Landis, encouraging baseball to continue being played during World War II.
• While still a teen, Lloyd decided that he wanted to improve his accuracy in pitching a baseball. So he chose targets on the old barn wall and went to work. Once he had satisfied this aim throwing right-handed, he then perfected the same while throwing left-handed. The broken boards in the barn wall were just the cost of mastering a skill. Years later, he would baffle my brother and I as we all played catch in the farmyard and marveled at his curve balls thrown with either hand.

I can still remember Rob and I playing catch with our ball and gloves in the front yard of the farm situated halfway between McKeaghan Road and Judy Hill. Our biggest obstacles were the flower bed and making sure a loose ball didn’t get into the pastures. We would have to engage electric fences and large cows in order to retrieve our baseballs. Once in awhile Uncle Lloyd would jump in with us after the farm chores were completed. He’d be smiling like a teenager with a huge secret that only he knew, and once he loosened up a bit, he’d start firing pitches to us with either hand. I remember standing in front of the electric fence around the north pasture, and making sure that his breaking pitches didn’t get by me. It was fantastic! He played catch with us like it was the most exciting thing in the world to be doing right then and there.

• Lloyd graduated from high school in 1961 – One year he spent a lot more time working than he did with schooling and he repeated the school year after making some extra money.
• Lloyd was married to Janette Arlene Reeves on Saturday, November 25, 1967 at Streetsville Baptist Church, in Mississauga, ON. I would be fortunate enough to meet them for the first time, roughly a month later, as a newborn baby.

Obviously I don’t remember this meeting. I was born in Caribou, Maine right before Christmas, 1967. Lloyd and Janette were home for Christmas as newlyweds, visiting the farm for the Holidays. This is where my incredible relationship with their family began. That relationship continues today, even after Lloyd and Janette are together in heaven.

• Lloyd purchased the farm on the corner (and here, I use the term ‘corner’ loosely) of the Charleston Road and the McKeaghan Road in July, 1969. If I remember correctly, that ‘corner’ used to be more of a curve that was far easier to engage from one direction than it was the other. As a boy, I remember looking from the yard at Grampy and Grammy’s toward Uncle Lloyd’s farm to see if I could see any dust rise in the road in hopes of a visit from them.

Back in that day, the Charleston Road that connected Uncle Lloyd’s farm to Grampy and Grammy’s farm was just another dirt road in farm country. Yes, graders plowed, and leveled the road from time to time. But when someone came south from Centreville on that road, we could see the dust rise from more than a mile away. Uncle Lloyd’s farm was 3/4 of a mile away and we could see if the dust originated from that farm. Yes, for hours on end I would be out on the road throwing rocks at utility poles to practice my accuracy in pitching. Or I would be standing with one of my uncles big old, homemade wooden bats, tossing rocks up to myself and hitting line drives all over the fields to win World Series games year after year. And I would watch for the dust. Was it Dad returning from Mars Hill? Was it Uncle Carl or Uncle Lloyd coming to do the farm chores? And would they have any of their kids with them? There were no phones, no internet, no messaging, just a boy at the road’s edge watching for a dust cloud from a vehicle. I wouldn’t have done any differently.

 

 

• Lloyd retired from Thomas Equipment July 30, 2004. Although I am not sure the word ‘retired’ ever really applied to Uncle Lloyd.
• He worked for Meeds Machine Shop up until he was hospitalized this year. Many a story did he share about the goings on at Meeds over the last several years.
• In the reading through and the listening to numerous comments and stories about Lloyd Peterson, it is impossible not to notice a few common threads.
  • Everyone talks about many wonderful, happy memories that we have to hold and to share.
  • There is also much joy and a certain comfort discussed in the certainty as to where Lloyd arrived when he departed this wonderfully created earth. Lloyd is happily in heaven.
  • He had a passion for not only understanding the scriptures, but also a tremendous relatability to those with whom he spoke, taught, or studied with. Many folks remember his Bible studies, Sunday School classes, or deep discussions about the Bible with much fondness.

I most likely will never be on the same level as Uncle Lloyd was when it comes to scripture and the understanding of it. And I have never told anyone this before, but he and I would discuss the scriptures in some depth. We talked about their applications in the modern day. We would discuss deep questions that he really had worked over in his mind and he would present them to me like I was a would-be pupil of his. We had some really live-wired chats on such matters over the years. I would often times just play the down-to-earth thinker that would challenge this approach or another and we would work out responses or just agree to look at things from a different and deeper angle to make sure that nothing was being added to, or taken away from God’s holy word. He shared some very personal things with me about his life and his relationship with Christ. I am very thankful for those conversations and the trust we had in each other to be open and honest with each other.

• Lloyd had a tremendous competitive spirit and a curious mind. He did not lose often in any contest that required his matching of skill against another. He even thought to practice honing his skill of peripheral vision. He also altered basketball hoops, making them smaller than regulation size so that shots would have to be more accurate in order to go into the basket. If you ever saw Lloyd, or even Joel shoot hoops, you’d notice that the rim was just there for show, because their shots usually hit nothing but net. Ahh, that gentle swish.

I did get to play basketball up at NBBI with Uncle Lloyd a time or two. I also shot hoops with him at various places over many years. He could do anything he wanted with a basketball. He was New Brunswick’s version of Pete Maravich. Maravich was at LSU while Uncle Lloyd was out in Ontario winning semi-pro basketball championships. Some tabbed Lloyd as the best basketball player in New Brunswick. There is no doubt that he was a special talent.

I have to give props to my cousins Matthew Peterson and Joel Peterson here as well. While on a trip out west in 2018, which I will get to shortly, I sat out of sight watching these two shoot hoops one evening. We were on the Salmon Arm of Shuswap Lake in the backyard. I don’t share these things loosely because there is a level of skill that just isn’t found in the majority of folks who ever shot a basketball at a hoop. I also only mention this because Uncle Lloyd would have also recognized the skill as something worth noting. Anyways, Matthew and Joel were shooting around in the backyard. Honestly, Joel’s shot, release, and follow through were like a dream sequence. Just beautiful. So many of his shots were so pure that the ball never even considered hitting the rim. If they had hit the rim I would have blamed the rim, or an earthquake. Matthew wasn’t as pure in the sequence of movements but let me tell you, I wouldn’t want to leave him even loosely guarded. He hit shot after shot, after shot. It was a lot of fun to watch them shoot. Pure shooting. I am still smiling just thinking about it.

• Uncle Lloyd and I had a wonderful relationship. I am so very thankful for the time we were able to spend together over the last 15 years. He and I, among others, enjoyed road trips, discussions on baseball and basketball, skipping rocks on streams and ponds where we found them, riding the 4-wheelers behind the farm, while sharing and laughing all the time. I will certainly miss him and the impromptu meetings in the farmyard.

I remember a night here in New Hampshire when Uncle Lloyd and I discussed the throwing of a baseball and the shooting of a basketball for what seemed like hours. We talked about the feel, the touch, the last touch of the ball against the fingers as it left the hand in either sport. I loved tapping into that curious mind of his and mining the research that his thousands of hours worth of developing skills had to offer. 

We talked about animals, trees, water ways, and every aspect of God’s creation that we knew of. It was awesome because we shared such a respect for our Creator and all of the things in nature that functioned right because God made it that way. 

He would talk about Janette and his family. The foods they loved. The activities that they enjoyed together, separately, and everything in between. The fishing that the boys enjoyed. The jobs that the kids did. The grandkids. Everything a proud father would talk about in regards to his family. 

 

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Eulogy Part Three

Lloyd Alton Peterson

January 15, 1942 – June 1, 2022

In closing, I share a memory with some perspective. It was the summer of 2018 and I was fortunate enough to accompany Lloyd’s younger sister, who is also my Mom, to the beautiful western landscapes of Canada on a trip that I shall never forget. I was surrounded by uncles and aunts, with a few cousins mixed in, among some of the most awe inspiring mountainous scenes I have ever seen. 

As I mentioned earlier, when we piled into vehicles on a daily basis to explore British Columbia, on what I call, “An Agenda by Lloyd” there was no telling how many hours it would take, or how many miles we would cover. Clark W. Griswold would have been proud. I believe that I can speak for Joel on this point. As he and I were the youngsters on the day trips, we did nearly all of the driving, and honestly, what a blessing it was to be among the living role models, masters of life. With our loved ones, among the places that only the Almighty could set up for human eyes to see. Uncle Lloyd was so very much alive! He was the catalyst that pushed us all to see all that we could see, from mountains to lakes, to rivers and waterfalls, and giant ancient trees all below God’s perfect blue skies. 

 

What a tremendous trip arranged by Lloyd in such a beautiful place. 

And one day soon, in heaven, we shall again see his smiling face.

 

We will throw the ball back and forth, and marvel at his command.

For I am sure he will still be able to throw well with either hand.

 

At the end of any one day we will bow our heads at God’s throne.

Reminded that here when one is gone, we are truly never alone.

 

While many here, myself included, struggle at times with earthly finality.

A place is prepared for us, only through Christ, may we rest there eternally.

 

This trip included an unbelievable flight story that led to my Mother and I missing our connecting flight to Kelowna, BC, Canada. Given the choices we had, all of which required us sleeping overnight in an airport, Mom and I decided to sleep in the airport at Edmonton, AB. This was a difficult night with nearly zero sleep. Eventually, we got to our destination thanks to Uncle Lloyd dropping everything and driving to the Kelowna airport to pick us up. It was an inauspicious start to the trip, but it didn’t keep us from having a wonderful time out west. 

 

 

 

 

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Finally, I would encourage each and every one of you to examine the very picture of Lloyd Alton Peterson that you hold in your mind’s eye. These are the loving, happy memories that we are blessed to possess as our own. I would suggest that you not only hold that picture dear, but also add to the loving memories you know personally with other ones that have been shared here this week as well. And if your picture, or memories do not include Lloyd’s sense of joy found in confidently knowing his Saviour, the everpresent gleam in his hopeful eyes, and the strength founded on an interminable faith, then I suggest you look until you do. For Uncle Lloyd and his faith were inseparable, to the betterment of many.

 

 

At the end of life here on earth, I see a new beginning. Consider that Lloyd Alton Peterson, whom we all love and remember today, lived by these following words. And for this reason, I choose joy and celebration when I remember his life.

(English Standard Version) John 6:19-22 – “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light.”

I thank Jesse, Joel, Amanda, Curtis, Nathan, and Dustin for trusting me with these words and these few minutes. I thank you all for your time and attention. And I thank God Almighty for the privilege of sharing His word, memories of Lloyd, and our faith with each other. May God bless each of you.

 

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They don’t make them like Uncle Lloyd anymore. He was a very smart man. He had incredible athletic ability. He demonstrated otherworldly abilities to focus on improving skills of all kinds. I remember hearing about him showing up at school tracks meets and winning all kinds of events even with minimal team training in those events. He wanted to know how everything worked, and if there was a way to make that thing more efficient.

He worked hard all his life. I remember as a boy him coming to my grandparents farm to do the chores. He and my other uncles had massive, strong like steel, arms. He could throw bales of hay like they were no big deal. I remember loving the work gloves and hats that Lloyd and my other uncles wore. I thought they were the coolest things that hard working farmers must wear. My uncles were so big and strong. They were men of God, honest and true. They were busy, but productive, and helpful. They were so very full of life. They loved their families, all the way around. Uncle Lloyd was the one I got to connect with the most, especially as an adult. I am the fortunate one. I will miss him. I have been hoping since 2018 that those visits would not be the last ones we shared. However, they were.

I will forever miss pulling into Uncle Lloyd’s driveway and chatting with him about almost anything under the sun. Long ago, I learned to drive a tractor and a pick-up truck out of necessity while being pressed into haying operations on any given summer. For the record, I wasn’t very good with the old tractor clutch back then. I apologize to the cousins I accidentally flipped off of hay trailers over the years. At least they landed in the grass fields. Nobody was hurt.

The beauty of life in that precious neck of the woods, with people who are as wonderful as my Uncle Lloyd, was that they just kept living while allowing all of us access to their lives. I know my siblings and cousins all benefited from their style of just including us when they could or plugging us into whatever was going on at the time. We had epic family get togethers with massive amounts of farm grown food and everything else homemade.

If the cows got loose in the middle of the night, and we were of age, we were awoken and expected to help how we could. We helped with hay, milking cows, churning butter, and shucking corn. Our uncles and aunts were always around, the steady backdrop of our lives. On the other hand, we had acres of farmland over hills, streams, and woods to play in and to help define who we are. We had incredible role models in our parents, families, and uncles like Uncle Lloyd to help us along the right path.

I will miss Uncle Lloyd. I am glad he is not suffering anymore. He is in heaven with many loved ones called home before him. I know that he suffered in his final weeks and I am glad that the suffering is over. I reached Uncle Lloyd by phone in his hospital room during his last week here on earth. He couldn’t speak words at that time as a result of numerous strokes. But I told him who I was, and I am certain he knew my voice and my name. His reaction even in this state was unmistakable. He made sounds that changed based on the memories I mentioned. I told him that I loved him and I am pretty sure he tried saying he loved me too. I told him that we were all praying for him and that many, many folks loved him and wished him the very best. Even in his muted sounds, I could tell with certainty, that he was my Uncle Lloyd. Had all of his instruments been functioning properly, we would have just talked and laughed over many things, like we always did.

Heaven gained another great one on June 1, 2022. This world we live in lost another of the people we counted on to keep life from unraveling before our eyes. I cannot wait to see what my Dad and Uncle Lloyd have been up to when I get to heaven and can ask them.

 

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First, my cousin did a fantastic job covering for me at the funeral service as I could not be there. Thank you Dan.

Second, I had recorded my reading (a low quality video) of the eulogy the night before the funeral service in case I couldn’t get there. And in case the church was going to run the video instead of having someone read it in the service.

Third, I share the video I made, here. Truthfully, I am glad that Dan read the words ‘live’ during the service. It was much better that way.

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Lastly, I use a sentiment that was beautifully written by Charles Spurgeon to sign off of this tribute to my Uncle Lloyd Peterson. I arranged the words just slightly to fit this particular farewell. To the entire Peterson family:

I sorrow with you all over the departure of your dear Lloyd. He was a dear man ready to take his place with the shining ones. Carl and the others will receive him as a messenger from you. May peace and consolation flow into the hearts of you all. I cannot ease your pain, but there is another Comforter who can and will do so. Receive my heartfelt sympathy. We are all going the same way. Our dear Lloyd has outrun us. We shall catch him up soon.

With abundant love, Steve Beal Sr. 2022.