
“Well, Lowell, remorse is useless!” It was December 1, 1950, and the speaker was Dr. Ann Hopwood, our family doctor and treasured friend. My mother, Helen Dale Bjorling, was pregnant with her second child and past her due dates. Now Dr. Hopwood was inducing my mother’s delivery in the hopes of saving her from having a Caesarean section. Blessedly, the induction worked, and Russell Lowell Bjorling was born in Kewanee Public Hospital, Kewanee, Illinois.
I was the big sister, the one charged with helping care for Rus, sometimes even attempting to change diapers despite struggling with the safety pins. One of my earliest memories of Rus was his delight in creating baling wire spider webs that crossed the back yard gate just outside the east windows of our kitchen. Rus loved to tinker and became a tool user at an early age. As farm kids, all three of us learned to use hand tools before we entered grade school, and we delighted in going to the Houghton Lumber Yard in Altona and raiding the scrap barrel for neat pieces of board so that we could go home and build little sitting stools and other things. Of the three of us, Rus was the best mechanic and could do all kinds of repairs, plus welding.
Rus was always fascinated by science and began absorbing all kinds of scientific information at an early age. In a day and age when educators failed to recognize dyslexia, Rus could explain scientific ideas but struggled with reading until my mom began applying the phonics concepts she was learning at college to Rus’s problems. After that, Rus became a voracious reader and always had at least one or more books going. That interest in science continued for the rest of Rus’s life and even to his last days, he would listen to several podcasts on various scientific themes each morning.
All three of us kids loved caring for animals. One year, Rus acquired a Holstein heifer as a 4-H project. Our standing joke was that the cow had a longer pedigree than we did; her full name was “Lone Tree Prillie Twenty Grand.” We simply called her “Elsie.” Then there were Rus’s 4-H sheep. Different people do well with different kinds of animals, and Rus could handle sheep quite well. One year, Rus’s 4-H project took him all the way to a Reserve Grand Championship at the Illinois State Fair.
We lived on a stretch of highway that had been abandoned by the State of Illinois. In those days, herbicide use was not even a problem, and we had wild roses and wonderfully sweet wild strawberries that grew along that road. I would ride my bicycle and my brothers would peddle their toy tractors down the road to the strawberry beds.
My parents were very active in Immanuel Lutheran Church in Altona, Illinois, and all three of us began Sunday School as soon as we were old enough. My mother also taught us Bible stories and hymns. Later in life, Rus became a gifted Bible teacher. At the time of his death, Rus was teaching Zoom Bible studies twice a month.
As far as I know, Rus always wanted to farm, and he began farming with my father at an early age. Rus did two years of junior college and then completed his B.Sc. in Agriculture at the University of Illinois by attending class three days a week and then returning to farm the rest of the time. In the early days, Rus and Dad were raising hogs in pastures; later on, they built confinement set-ups and continued the hog operations for many years. Little did any of us realize that the exposure to ammonia in those confinement houses would damage Rus’s lungs.
Rus was a devoted son. It was Rus and Carol who called me in March 1980 to tell me that my mother was developing health problems and that she refused to go to a doctor. (I was in surgery residency in Charleston, WV, at the time.) Sadly Mom was admitted to the University of Iowa Hospital on March 18, 1980, only to die fifteen days later from cancer and brain abscesses.

Rus was a loving husband and father. This last August, Rus and his wife Carol celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary. Rus and Carol had two daughters, Elizabeth and Amanda. The girls were the light of their lives and they were thrilled beyond measure when Elizabeth married Pastor Christopher Poest in 2015. Christopher became a treasured part of the family. Together, Rus and Carol gave their daughters both roots and wings. Dr. Elizabeth Bjorling Poest is a pastor, a writer, and a seminary professor. Amanda Bjorling has two Master’s degrees in Library Science and is a teacher and media specialist for a private school in Luxembourg.

When my nuclear family was together, we had five part harmony. My mother sang soprano, my dad sang tenor, my brother Dale sang baritone, and Rus sang bass, while I sang alto. One of my fondest memories is the last time Dad, Rus, Dale and I sang together at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Altona, Illinois. It was September 2011, and my husband and I were preparing to return to Ghana. We knew that we were seeing my dad for the last time; in fact, he died three months later.
Rus was absolutely honest and very sincere; with Rus, there was no pretense. Rus was also very sensitive to the hurts and needs of others. Together, Rus and Carol helped many people in various ways, including encouraging them in their faith. Rus was also a very funny guy, who could crack one joke after another on occasion. Rus was a fantastic cook, and his pancakes were a breakfast highlight.

One of the most painful parts of working overseas is not being able to share family times like birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. This last few months, we were privileged to spend nearly four weeks with Rus and Carol while we were in America. When we said good – bye to Rus on October 15, 2021, we had no idea that it would be a final parting.
We learned of Rus’s pneumonia problems as we were preparing to return to Ghana. By that point, we were 1500 miles away in central Texas. When we prayed, God told us to return to Ghana, and we did so. Sadly, my wonderful affectionate, funny, kind brother joined the Lord he had served for so long on Wednesday November 17, 2021.
I write these words in tears. I realize that I have barely scratched the surface. But I want those who read this to remember that we are never promised all the time we want with our loved ones. TELL THOSE WHOM YOU LOVE THAT YOU LOVE THEM WHILE YOU CAN! MAKE THAT PHONE CALL! SEND THAT E-MAIL OR MESSAGE! TAKE THE TIME WHILE YOU CAN! ONE DAY YOU MAY BE LEFT WITH NOTHING BUT MEMORIES. MAKE SURE THAT YOU ARE NOT LEFT WITH REGRETS!!!










