One of most valuable things about being part of a faith
community is also one of the most painful. This year three friends in my church
died. Gabe was hovering around 80 he died quickly from pancreatic cancer. Al
was 74 when his healthy life ended much too soon after a brief bout with
leukemia. Mark was 62 when he died from a heart attack two days after retiring.
We watched with amazement as Gabe died very graciously. He
was in church the Sunday before he died. I didn’t know how to talk to him. I
couldn’t bring myself to ask with my usual cheerfulness, “How are you doing?”
It was painful to watch him. He made me look. Look at death.
It doesn’t seem fair that Al died so young. He did
everything healthy—physically, mentally, spiritually, environmentally. He
should have lived to 120. But he went so fast. We exchanged our last email the
day before he was too tired to even read emails. Two days later he was dead. He
had been a mentor of mine. Al was everyone’s mentor.
Mark was in our Thursday night faith group. He shared with
us his decision to retire to preserve his health. We were happy with him
talking about his last day of work. We were shocked the next day when he died.
Then there is Hershel and Evelyn. Hershel is 99 and Evelyn
is 94. Recently my friend Cindy posted photos on Facebook learning to bake pies
with Evelyn. I greet them every Sunday at the front door as Evelyn informs me
she came over on Saturday and pulled weeds that had been ignored. She points
out the step that needs repaired.
Gabe, Al, Mark, Hershel, and Evelyn all make me think about
life—and death. They preach to me in ways our pastor can only dream of
preaching to make life matter. I mourn them—Hershel and Evelyn I rejoice with—but
I value the lessons they teach me about making life matter and what eternal
life is really about.
