In the Hebrew Bible, we see from the life of Moses, and the Psalmist, Isaiah and others, concern for the problem of living rather than the problem of dying.
Their primary interest was not how to escape death, but rather, how to sanctify life.
Bill modeled that kind of wisdom.
The brilliant novelist Louis L'Amour, who wrote bestselling books about the American West, what he called “frontier stories,” basically said the same thing. He wrote, “The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail.”
No one attempted to sanctify life and get more out of the trail than Bill Craig.
He was a deep thinker, a gifted veterinarian, a rugged and unbreakable man with the kindest heart and the purest motives.
He was a loving and devoted husband, father, and grandfather. Karen, Shalor and Melissa, Kellan, Nolan and Carter, were his world. They meant everything to him.
I guess he had faults, but I don’t remember any of them.
There was only one time that Bill and I disagreed. I had met Karen and him at a restaurant in Arlington for dinner.
While waiting for our food I told Bill my right foot was bothering me. That at times I could hardly stand on it. He said, “That’s planter’s fasciitis, Tim.”
I said, Bill, that doesn’t sound right. He said, “I’m pretty sure that’s what it is.”
I said, “Well, I looked up my symptoms on Google and I don’t think that’s what the sites called it.
He said, “Ok. Well, whatever you think.”
My foot got worse, so I went to my doctor and sure enough, it was planter’s fasciitis. An inflammation of tissue between the heel and the toes.
So, later, I told Bill his diagnosis had been correct. He laughed that great laugh of his and said, “Well, I’m just a Vet, Tim, but I figured that was it.”
He was right. He was right about most things. Whether it was the difficulties of life, the mystery of faith, the challenges of a local hospital, or the goodness of a community, he had a clear and sensible understanding of it.
Dr. Philip Berman, a Harvard theologian and author has written in his book on death, The Journey Home, that "spiritual experiences are the bedrock of meaningful living." And, they lead to a meaningful death.
Underneath all that invincible ruggedness in Bill was a deeply spiritual man. He possessed what the poet Keats called, “the holiness of the heart’s intentions.”
He was one of several who in our Sunday morning worship service would participate in the reading of scripture and prayer.
As with everything else he did, he poured himself into preparing for that. His public prayers were deeply thoughtful, relevant, always filled with his passion for the earth, for justice, for people, for Hamilton, and for the church.
He loved Hamilton with a love that wasn’t just in words. His love here was active, bold, courageous, involved.
He wanted the hospital and medical facilities to be as good as any big city. His efforts sometimes cost him clients, even friends. He hated that happened, and he struggled with it. But it never stopped him from doing what he truly believed was best for Hamilton. And today you have a premiere hospital thanks to so many of Dr. Craig’s efforts.
We thought he was indestructible. He wasn’t. But our memories of him and his legacy of hard work, kindness, decency, and community commitment will live as long as all of us do, and beyond.
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