A UMNS Feature
By Linda Bloom and Tim Tanton*

1:00 P.M. EST April 2, 2010 | NASHVILLE (UMNS)

The Rev. Sam Dixon shares a digital photo with children during a visit to Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, in December 2007.
A UMNS file photo by Ginny Underwood.
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The Rev. Sam Dixon greeted everyone with a smile.

That is what many people remember about the top executive of the United Methodist Committee on Relief, who died in Haiti following the Jan. 12 earthquake.

“He could make you laugh in the worst of circumstances,” recalled the Rev. Tom Hazelwood, a close colleague who leads UMCOR’s domestic disaster response. “If you were mad or upset, he could make you forget it.”

The consolation for family, friends and colleagues is that the 60-year-old North Carolina native perished while pursuing both his vocation and his passion: working for the welfare of the poor and marginalized in the name of Christ.

But the unanticipated loss of the man who was able to make connections for mission across the church and around the world continues to reverberate through the circles in which Dixon worked, traveled, lived and loved.

“Not a day goes by I don’t miss him,” said the Rev. William Simpson of Burlington, N.C., a retired pastor and longtime friend who considered him a “brother.”

From joy to concern

As the day dawned on Tuesday, Jan. 12, Thomas Kemper had a reason himself to smile. His election as top executive of the United Methodist Board of Global Ministries, UMCOR’s parent agency, was to be announced.

He had received a congratulatory e-mail from Dixon, who pointed to some “tough days ahead” as the mission agency continued to reorganize but assured Kemper that others would be there with him on the journey. When he learned later that Dixon and other humanitarian workers were missing after the quake, Kemper sadly realized that those tough days had come much faster than anticipated.

Over the years, the church’s mission became Sam Dixon’s mission. A graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a Tar Heels fan, he received a doctoral degree in ministry from the Chicago Theological Seminary and began his ministry with the United Methodist North Carolina Annual (regional) Conference in 1975.

He served as pastor of a variety of congregations before joining the conference staff in 1990, focusing on evangelism, mission and outreach.

Simpson was Dixon’s pastor and performed his wedding to Cindy. The men’s careers intertwined: Simpson would serve as Dixon’s district superintendent at one point, and Dixon helped Simpson get appointed to fill in as country director of Cambodia for the Board of Global Ministries.

Love in action

He saw Dixon’s caring nature in action on mission trips to different parts of the world, including a memorable journey to Armenia in 1992. The Soviet Union had collapsed, the economy was in disarray and people were hungry. “It was a rough, rough time,” Simpson recalled.

The men were supervising the transport of about 135,000 bundled coats from Church World Service, along with 16 footlockers filled with medical supplies gathered in North Carolina. They encountered “all kinds of headaches,” Simpson remembered, and the pair had to negotiate with the Armenian army to unload the cargo in return for 10,000 of the coats.

The trip also had a “very hush-hush” goal, he added. Dixon and Simpson carried hidden bundles of “$30,000 in cold hard cash” for a North Carolina missionary, leaving it in a safe at the U.S. embassy where the missionary could access it.

Throughout the trip, Dixon did all the talking with officials, and he had a gift for establishing instant trust, Simpson recalled. “I’d just stand back and watch him. It was amazing.”

One night, they found lodging in an apartment building owned by a widow. The two “pretty sizable guys” shared warmth in the 28-degree room by lying next to each other on the double bed, Simpson said. They cut a funny sight—Dixon with his fisherman’s cap and ear flaps, Simpson wearing an old Russian army officer’s fur hat—and at one point, they started laughing.

“Sam Dixon, I don’t know what you got me into, but if I ever get out of here alive, I’m going to kill you,” Simpson told him.

It was a light moment on a trip of somber scenes. When they visited a man and his 8-year-old granddaughter, a hollow-eyed girl who hadn’t eaten in three days, Dixon passed along the sandwiches that he and Simpson had packed for themselves.

Dixon had a fondness for Diet Cokes and chocolate, and when Simpson asked him about those items, his friend replied: “I gave them away too.”

“He reached out in the name of Christ to everyone,” Simpson said. “It didn’t matter who they were in the world; if they were people in need, he wanted to reach out to people in need, even if he had to deprive himself—and me.”

The Rev. Sam Dixon addresses a meeting of the United Methodist Board of Global Ministries in Stamford, Conn., in March 2008.
A UMNS file photo by Cassandra M. Zampini.
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On the world stage

When Dixon moved to New York, he was able to reach out to others on a wider scale. He became an executive with UMCOR’s non-governmental organization in 1998 and joined the Board of Global Ministries staff three years later as executive director of the United Methodist Development Fund.

In 2003, he became the agency’s leader on evangelization and church growth and later took on added responsibilities supervising programs in mission education and relations with mission partners. He assumed the leadership of UMCOR in 2007.

Dixon’s leadership at the Board of Global Ministries, especially during a time of transition, made his sudden absence seem even more of a loss. UMCOR, responding to that loss and the crisis in Haiti, formed a management team that “proved to be very, very successful,” Kemper said.

Hazelwood has found the transition to a world without Dixon difficult, both personally and professionally. “Sam took care of his staff,” he recalled. “He knew each of us individually; he knew our strengths and our weaknesses. He defended us and shielded us in many ways.”

Hazelwood’s work routine often included placing a call to Dixon between 7 to 7:30 a.m. as he drove from home to his Washington area office. “I usually talked to Sam at least three times a week,” he explained. “We would discuss issues or shoot the bull. But most of the time, that’s when business got done. I really, really miss that.”

What made Dixon effective, he said, were his connections across the church and his understanding of how the denominational agencies could help local churches in ministry. “Every time you talked to Sam, he always had another idea that he was working on, but his ideas were always practical,” he added.

Others will have to carry on with the work he was planning for Haiti. On Jan. 23, Simpson performed his final pastoral act for his friend by organizing his funeral. In addition to wife Cindy, Dixon is survived by four grown children -- Christy, Amy, Josh and Molly – as well as his mother, three sisters and two grandchildren.

It was easy to remember Dixon’s smile as Simpson told the mourners, “People everywhere were touched by the life of Sam Dixon.”

*Bloom is a United Methodist News Service news writer based in New York. Tanton directs UMNS for United Methodist Communications in Nashville, Tenn.

News media contact: Linda Bloom, New York, (646) 369-3759 or newsdesk@umcom.org.

By Susan Passi-Klaus*

7:00 A.M. EST April 2, 2010

The Rev. Clinton Rabb shares a hug with a church member during worship in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, in September 2008. A UMNS photo by Adam Neal, GBGM.
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A guitar is perched in the corner of the sun-drenched living room. The piano, a covering pulled over its keys, sits against the wall. Thick songbooks are stacked in a basket on the floor. Somewhere stashed behind closed doors are an old trombone and a banjo that are likely out of tune.

The only instrument missing is Clinton Rabb’s voice.

It is a voice silenced after the director of mission volunteers for the United Methodist Board of Global Ministries died from injuries received when he was trapped under a mountain of concrete rubble at the fallen Hotel Montana in Port-au-Prince. He was in Haiti to advocate for the poorest of the poor when the earthquake hit. The trip was part of a ministry in which he helped build and grow United Methodist churches in countless countries and inspired thousands of missionary volunteers to do God’s good work.

However, his intense travel schedule was beginning to take a toll on his personal life. He longed for more time at home with his wife, Suzanne, and for more opportunities to be with his eight children and three grandchildren.

It’s fitting that his picture sits on the piano – which Clint played boisterously. On recent rare occasions when all eight children were in one house at the same time, family jams were a staple. Clint, of course, tickled the ivories. Matthew, Daniel and Andrew picked guitar. Claire played violin. Travis, tambourine. Suzanne, the family drummer, played bongos. The others – Jenny, Maury and Tyler – provided background music of laughter and applause.

Theirs was a home where music was made. A home where the 6’2” plus-sized musician belted out Broadway tunes and jazz classics that entertained an audience of one or an assembly of many.

“He sang everything like Louis Armstrong . . . even, ‘Singin’ in the Rain,’” Suzanne laughed. “When he would sing in church, people would turn to us with thumbs up because they loved his voice. It was a wonderful sound.”

‘He wasn’t a pretender’

Described as a “Texan through and through,” Clint grew up in a little town in northeast Texas. However, he was born in Nyack, N.Y., which made him an interesting blend of two worlds. He loved beef and football, but he also loved art and fine music.

The Rev. Clinton Rabb visits with a church member after worship near Luang Prabang, Laos, in September 2008.
A UMNS photo by Adam Neal, GBGM.
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Not the reality TV type, he opted instead for episodes of “Sherlock Holmes” on PBS. He listened to jazz on Sirius Radio, cheered for the Dallas Cowboys and the University of Texas Longhorns, and loved history, especially family history.

“Information,” Suzanne said, “was candy for him.”

“He was the kind of guy whose pants would be tattered,” she said. “Those kinds of things just weren’t important to Clint.”

“It was impossible for Clint to pretend,” she said.” He wasn’t a pretender. He was just Clint. And when he came to you and talked to you, what he did was all him. And you couldn’t change him even if you wanted to. In time, I learned that the best gift I could give him was to not even want to change him because then he wouldn’t be who he was.”

When they married in 1998, Clint brought two children to the family and she brought six. She called the courtship “intense.’

“He saw me and he knew, this is the one,” she said. “And he was very intentional about it so it was a little scary for me. I had been married and I had six kids and I was kind of freaking, but he was such a fascinating guy. And, he was very thoughtful. I think people might find it hard to believe, but he was a very romantic man.

“One of the things I thought about him was that he was like this big hacienda . . . with windows and doors wide open, and you went in and there was a wonderful buffet and you were invited to come and to feast. He had the most open, generous heart and he invited everyone he knew to feast on love.”

Now, she is doing the hard work of grieving.

“One thing I’ve been thinking about a lot is what will I now allow to happen in my life? Will I allow Clint’s dramatic death to teach me, transform me, gospel me? How do I move into it and listen to what God is saying to me?”

‘You know I’ll find you’

Even in death, Suzanne believes Clint has found ways to be there for her as she grieves.

The Rev. Suzanne Field Rabb plays the piano at her home in Hawthorne, N.Y. A UMNS photo by John C. Goodwin.
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“Whether I go to bed at night and sleep not one wink, and I wake up in the day and just feed the dogs, I’m a grieving woman,” she said. “But by allowing myself to really feel he’s there, that’s what gives me strength. I know he’s saying to me, ‘It’s all right; you’ll be fine. Keep your kids close. Do what you need to do and don’t worry. You know I’ll find you.’”

And at his funeral, it appeared Clint did indeed find Suzanne. Not surprisingly, he used music to reassure her.

Son Matthew Payne sang a song he says he “received from Clint.”

“When you need me, you have me.
When you call, I am there.
When you search for me, you find me.
I am always here.

I can see you now.
I see the color in your eyes.
You are not forgotten,
And there are no last goodbyes.

(Chorus) I know it's cold when it rains,
But I won't let it keep me.
I won't let it separate.
I know it's cold when it rains,
But I'm gonna shine out.
I won't let you fade.
Cause honey, my love for you, it does not break.”

--“My Love for You (It Does Not Break)”
By Matthew Payne

*Passi-Klaus is a Public Information specialist/writer for United Methodist Communications.

News media contact: David Briggs, Nashville, Tenn., (615) 742-5470 or newsdesk@umcom.org.

A UMNS Feature
By Susan Hogan*

1:00 P.M. EST April 2, 2010 | NASHVILLE (UMNS)

Jean Arnwine displays several pairs
of glasses during a light moment at
the Haiti Eye Clinic in Petit-Goâve, Haiti.
A UMNS photo by Joel Fish.
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As soon as Jean Arnwine learned she was going to Haiti to help with an eye clinic, she contacted everyone she knew to donate old prescription glasses.

Nearly 800 eyeglasses poured in — so many that some were left behind when she headed to the island with a mission team from Highland Park United Methodist Church in Dallas.

Arnwine, 49, was a longtime colleague of Dr. Gary Fish at Texas Retina Associates, who was part of the mission effort.

"She jumped at the chance to go," said David Arnwine, Jean's husband. "If she had been able to get out, she would have been back next year."

When the Jan. 12 earthquake struck, part of the eye clinic in Petit-Goâve collapsed on Jean Arnwine. She died three days later en route to a hospital.

After word spread back home, Fran Crawford retrieved her colleague's personal items from the office for David Arnwine. She and Jean had been close friends for years.

"Jean would have had it done in 30 minutes," Crawford, 57, said and laughed. "She was very organized and task-oriented — the kind of person who got things done."

Making mission fun

The office was filled with items in Arnwine's favorite color: hot pink. She also surrounded herself with photos of the people she cherished — her husband, their 27-year-old daughter, Merilee, and their 29-year-old son, Ashley Ryan.

Crawford said Arnwine convinced her to join in a three-day walk for breast cancer years ago. She participated once, but Arnwine went back again to show support for friends with the disease.

"When she fixed her mind on doing something for others, she did it," Crawford said. "For that walk, we had to sleep in tents in the miserable June heat of Texas. Jean made it fun."

Before leaving for Haiti, Arnwine called her friend Phyllis Pusser and told her she had mailed her a package. Arnwine wouldn't say what was inside because she wanted her former colleague to be surprised.

The package arrived after Arnwine's death. Inside were a calendar and a card with the words "you are God's treasured possession."

"She was so compassionate and thoughtful," said Pusser, 58, of Longview, Texas. "She really had a way of making everyone feel special. I'm feeling such a loss."

David Arnwine said his wife loved the opera, reading and cooking. She also loved to send people cards. They exchanged cards and notes back and forth at home.

"She would leave me a beautiful card with a handwritten note that said, 'We've been given this day and we're going to make the best of it.’"

Her love for cards hit him hard when he saw Valentine's Day gifts on a store shelf, he said.

"We married right out of high school and always made a big deal of Valentine's Day," he said. "For Jean, it was always about the cards. You could give her a diamond ring, but she'd focus on the written message in the card. Words mattered to her. She really knew how to encourage people."

That's why the 400-500 cards that have flooded his mailbox since his wife died have meant so much.

"Jean was humble and would have been embarrassed by all of the attention," he said. "But oh, how she would have appreciated those cards."

A great friend

The Arnwines would have celebrated their 31st wedding anniversary on March 31.

"Mornings are the hardest for me now," David Arnwine said. "Jean didn't like to get up early. We had a routine. I'd put a hot cup of tea on her vanity and her work scrubs nearby. Then we'd leave little notes for each other."

Jean Arnwine. A UMNS photo courtesy of Highland Park United Methodist Church.
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Her story has touched many people. A group in Louisiana is now collecting eyeglasses for Haitians. Her co-workers had a garden area and bench dedicated in her memory at an arboretum.

David Arnwine has told Highland Park United Methodist Church he wants to be involved in the rebuilding of the eye clinic in Haiti that was destroyed.

"Whenever the time is right, we want the funding to be in her memory," he said. "We want to see that clinic happen again. We want Haitians to receive those eyeglasses."

He said that by happenstance — or miracle — he and Jean were without a church home at the time of the tragedy. Her funeral was held at the Highland Park church, which he said has been "an incredible source of comfort and encouragement."

"I cannot believe the way the people have embraced us," he said. "Jean was an amazing person of faith. She kept a long list of people that she prayed for. It was because of her faith that she went to Haiti. We've never questioned that."

She was a bit shy and it sometimes took her awhile to get to know people. She liked to work behind the scenes rather than being the person out front.

"She was a quiet person in a way," David Arnwine said. "She was one of those people that was kind of shy and then, once she got to know you, became one of the best friends you ever had."

*Hogan is a freelance writer based in Chicago.

News media contact: David Briggs, Nashville, Tenn., (615) 742-5470 or newsdesk@umcom.org.