Eulogy for Frank W. Summers II

Given by Frank’s son J. Summers

Good afternoon everyone, family and friends, and thank you so much for coming and joining us in honoring, and celebrating Dad’s life, even as we grieve his death.

Dad would have been so pleased to be with so many he loved in one place. Thanks also to all of you who are joining us through the livestream.

I was honored, humbled and totally intimidated when Mom asked me to give the eulogy at Dad’s funeral. How could anyone possibly speak all of the goodness there is to say over my Dad’s life? I will try and do my best. I hope I can get the words out without too much ugly crying.

My Dad was EPIC!

A healthy mix of Indiana Jones, the Apostle Paul, Crocodile Dundee and Moses – there will not be another Frank Summers II….

I grew up hearing stories of Dad breaking ice with the butt of his shotgun trudging through the frozen marsh waste deep to get to the duck blind; I personally witnessed Dad killing poisonous snakes with his bare hands, taming horses, climbing mountains, and speaking hard truths to power…the list goes on.

Dad sported an epic beard before it was cool. He could whistle like a boss. He could identify tiny birds by a flash of a wing, play guitar and sing beautifully, and in a world of quickly tied neck ties, Dad only used a double Windsor knot! If Dad was interested in titles and honors, he could have put over a dozen letters behind his name from all of the degrees he had accumulated!

More than that though, Dad’s faith was epic. He and Mom journeyed to unknown foreign lands ablaze with a transforming fire for God. The fire they carried now burns in communities and families, generations deep, across the globe. Only Heaven’s light will reveal the full impact Dad’s life had on this world and eternity.

Together Mom and Dad would pray with confidence and witness the restoration of sight to the blind, the lame healed, whole communities transformed, and the oppressed find freedom.

One of my favorite prayer miracles stories of Dad’s epic faith comes from the testimony of the people from a community of the deserts of northern Mexico. Dad was doing his weekly visit to a chapel in a small village of farmers he was discipling. That night they shared with my Dad the hardship that the months-long drought had been for them.

Moved by their concern for their crops and their goats, the source of their meager livelihood, Dad proclaimed with prophetic boldness that they would not stop singing and praying until it rained (which if he had stopped to ask the weatherman, would likely have been a number of weeks or months to come). My Dad led that community in praise and petition, and after persisting for a few extra hours of prayer that night, the heavens opened and the farmers walked home in the pouring rain!

At FMC, we often quote my Dad: “Our God is a Real God, who does Real things for Real people in the Real world!” Dad spoke these words because he had experienced them and knew them to be true.

My Dad was Good

As great a figure as Dad was, his greatness was matched by his goodness. The goodness of Dad’s heart could be seen so clearly in his generosity, patience and his big heart towards his family, and towards the marginalized.

My Dad was one of the most generous people I have ever met or even read about. He was recklessly generous. Rejecting the wisdom of the world, and preferring instead the words of Jesus, Dad refused to store up treasures for himself here on earth. One of the most remarkable aspects of He and Mom’s life’s journey is their radical trust in God’s providence. It was this radical trust in God that empowered them to give, almost without limits of their time, talent and treasure to anyone in need. One could not count the times Dad gave to those in need… not only from an abundance but also from his, and our family’s own needs, to someone whose need was greater. I have personally been challenged so greatly by their witness of trust in God.

The older I have gotten, the more amazed I have been by Dad’s patience. Raising my own 6 sons has given me a whole new perspective on the patience of my father. Dad told me a few weeks ago how great a father I am, insinuating in his compliment that I outdid him in that department…I said, “but Dad you were a much better fishing Dad than I am.” I can’t count the times Dad has shown extraordinary patience with me, as well as the rest of his kids and grandkids, not least of which in taking us fishing—including the time as a 9 year old kid I set a treble hook deep into the palm of Dad’s left hand which ultimately led to an emergency room visit. Dad was patient in so many of life’s challenging moments. He was steady. Dad knew what it was to wait on God’s timing and provision.

Dad’s goodness was evident in his concern for the poor and marginalized. Dad had a hunger for justice, and despite his privileged upbringing, he preferred to associate with the lowly. For me, there is no doubt that on the day of Judgment, Jesus, present in the hungry, thirsty, sick, naked and imprisoned, will recognize Frank Summers. Dad saw his brother in the beggar and downtrodden, and treated them with dignity and respect. Our dinner table and our home was ever open to anyone…and where others struggled to see value, Dad genuinely saw potential and worth in the least.

And for me most meaningfully, My Dad was my Dad

My Dad loved his family, and grew to love them more with each passing Day, even, and perhaps especially to the end.

Next to God, my Dad prioritized his family. He loved my Mom and their marriage of 59 years has borne much fruit! Their love has stood the test of time, enduring through trials, even to his final breath. Dad’s last meaningful act the night before he died was to kiss my Mom. When I asked my mom to pray for me as I was preparing to compose Dad’s Eulogy, she joked and said to make sure I say Dad was the best kisser. I said, “don’t worry I will!”

Mom and Dad’s story was their own, and they pioneered a life and a marriage adventure that few can really relate to. Through it all, they leaned on each other—and in the end, Mom sat by Dad’s side countless hours, speaking goodness and love over him.

Their marriage was prolific! My mom recounts that Dad rejoiced over each of the 7 times she shared the good news of a coming baby. When so many today would have come up with very responsible reasons that the coming of a new baby was not so great, Dad rejoiced! Even as they received and welcomed a special needs son, Simon-Peter, for years to come Dad celebrated the gift of Simon. Dad would relive this genuine rejoicing 27 more times for each of his beloved grandchildren.

I really believe each of us kids could stand here and tell stories for hours of Dad’s encouragement and love for us. I will share a couple that stand out in my memory, and have even shaped me as a person. I remember the time my brother John Paul and I almost burned down all of Big Woods, while trying to clear out the inside of a giant oak tree. John Paul would be quick to clarify that it was my idea (an idea I gleaned from a fictional book, My Side of the Mountain). Quickly the “genius idea” of my 14-year-old brain was revealed for what it really was—SO DUMB! The “controlled” burn soon became a raging furnace in the middle of a Louisiana drought. To make matters worse, in the rush to get water to the site of the fire to prevent its spread, I backed the suburban into a telephone pole, leaving a massive dent in the bumper.

Ultimately the fire department had to be called (on two occasions in fact) to put the fire out. My Dad rushed home from work in Abbeville, and as he approached me and the burning tree, (after having also noticed the mega dent in the Suburban I should add), I braced myself for his well-earned wrath. Instead, standing before the blazing tree on the side of the Seventh Ward Fire Department truck, Dad proceeded to tell me about a time in his youth when he and his brother Pres shoved fireworks into every hole of a rotten tree and unintentionally set it ablaze. There were plenty of times I got fussed at and yelled at as a kid to be sure, but in each of the times that mattered most (including the other time I totaled the family car), Dad’s gut reaction was mercy and kindness for me, when it was anything but deserved.

It is impossible to put into words how privileged I have been to grow up with Frank Summers as my Dad, to know him as I have known him, and to be loved by him as I have been. I know each of my siblings could say the same thing. It has been equally a joy to see my kids and all of their cousins, enjoy the most wonderful, quintessential Papa in the world, a role he relished. We cherish the memories of Dad reading stories to the kids, taking them to the pond, buying them a Coke, or leading them in prayer – and it is hard to think that this season must now live only in our hearts and memories.

As I have watched my Dad age, and his health, and later mental acuity decline, I have witnessed this mighty man of God soften into a tireless encourager. I feel that Dad’s love for others, and his ability to rejoice in the good of those around him, especially us kids, only grew in these final years. Each thing we did was “the BEST talk he’d EVER heard” or “the most wonderful salad he’d EVER eaten” and “the most impressive soccer goal he’d ever seen” and on and on.

In his last years, and even his final weeks, Dad has continued to teach me. At a family prayer time my sister Mary organized as we began to see that Dad’s days on earth were coming to an end, Dad shared with us “I am so grateful for my family, and I only wish I had always felt as grateful for my family as I have come to feel these last months.” Dad died with gratitude in his heart. He left this life surrounded by his wife and children loving him, praying with him, singing and praising God with him… He joked and made silly faces with his grandkids until he couldn’t anymore. He suffered for weeks on end without complaining.

Just a couple weeks before he died, some of the missionaries in training here at FMC were visiting my Dad and asked, “what is the most important lesson you’ve learned as a missionary” to which my Dad responded “Trust in God with all your heart” then added “Jesus is real, He is your friend.” A lesson and an invitation which he would wholeheartedly repeat for all of us if he were standing here now, especially those of us who may feel furthest from the loving embrace of Jesus today.

Those of us who knew Dad best …knew that he had a really ugly dead toenail on his left Big toe. It was not something he flaunted, but just the kind of thing that grabbed your attention as a kid. Dad wasn’t perfect. He had his flaws and his failures and his ugly toenails. The great sermon of my Dad’s life was NOT that he was perfect, but that He was FAITHFUL and OBEDIENT. He allowed God to take him, imperfect as he was and do something SO beautiful that it would change the world. He didn’t allow his imperfections to become an excuse not to say yes to Jesus, but found that He could call on the LORD, and Jesus, His Real Friend, would show up!

Susanna shared with some of us a few days ago that each of the daily Mass readings around this time of Dad’s death had so much to say and speak about Dad’s life. As I reflected on her comment, I could see how it was true, NOT by chance, but because Dad had spent his whole converted life taking God at his Word and trying to conform himself to it; in the end the LORD allowed Dad to be totally molded by the Words that carried him through his life of service to Jesus.

We asked Dad, “What are you looking forward to the most about heaven?” …”Seeing the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit” … I can only imagine his joy and delight in meeting the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit Face to face. We love you and miss you. Dad, pray for us!