I walked by the bulletin board today at the church. Pinned with a red thumb tack, a bit higher than eye level was her face. On the small bookmark shaped obituary, I read of her death. It seemed like only yesterday I had enjoyed her joyful face in the choir. I remember one time giving her a ride home because her car had broken down. Standing in the middle of the hall I just stared at her frozen smile.
I remembered, in the beginning, she was one of the first ladies to encourage me in directing a choir. She always sat in the second row of the sopranos. She never sang with command but she was faithful and kind to the other ladies. Just like that, she is gone.
Later in the day I witnessed the first snowflake of the season. It was light and airy as it tumbled over my coat and unto the ground. My shoulders were heavy with care. Life in all its fullness still gets weighed down from concern. My choir friend will never see the wonder of the snowflakes again this side of heaven. I frowned as I thought of her funeral already passed, last week when I was in another state celebrating Thanksgiving. I didn’t even know she was gone, but God did.
He was waiting with arms open wide. And how fabulous heaven must be. I used to try to think of its golden streets and endless praise but Sunday hymns from wooden pews can’t paint the picture of what it must really be like. I do believe when we get there we will be changed. The sickness, the trouble, the wrinkles, and the scars will somehow be transformed into something beautiful. I picture her standing in a choir singing with all the freedom she ever wished for, and oh what a pretty tune.
Life is shorter than I want to think about, admit, or prepare for. Like the falling snowflake it is fragile yet beautiful. Today as I stood in shock in that narrow hallway reading the few paragraphs describing her life I thought: but I didn’t get to really know her, if only I had more time.
Such wishes are hard to quantify because we are all given equal time to spend on this earth in any one given day. But I want to turn my request into a prayer: Lord, help me see who you want me to see today. Help me to speak what you want me to speak today. Looking back at the day I see a lot of mundane moments. I went to the doctor with my two children for a diagnosis on the sickness they both seemed to be sharing. I went to work to plan things and work on details. I went to the drug store to pick up a prescription (Stop!) It was there at CVS (my favorite store) that I talked a little longer to the cashier, and not because I got a coupon. I genuinely meant “Have a nice day,” when I left with a smile.
Later I went to church to help the youth worship team in rehearsal (stop!) I love spending time with each of the students and their musical gifts even if at times I feel unqualified to help them. I stopped at Aldi to pick up something to eat. In the checkout the cashier ran to get me a Gluten Free Pizza, because my daughter had picked up a regular one by accident from the freezer. Only 3 people work in that store at any given time and there was a line (stop!) I smiled and genuinely thanked her, and as I walked to the van I felt faith rise in my heart that there are truly kind people in the world.
These are simple moments in an average day, but reflection makes my heart grow fonder. If time slips away regardless of our struggle to hold onto it, then there is only one solution to the problem. Taking time to ponder, taking time to reach out, and taking time to enjoy the big and small ways life is a blessing. It turns out, people are a big part of that. Today some of the moments that made me smile were with strangers.
Someday when my time comes to be pinned to a bulletin board with a few paragraphs to describe my beginning and end, I hope there will be many people who can attest for the “in between”. I wish I paused more often on this sobering thought, but like the falling snowflakes on this last November day such moments soon melt away in the busyness of life.
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