A Life Lived Well

By Brenda Black

Funerals are not among my top favorite social gatherings. My ability to empathize deeply makes ministry to the grieving emotionally draining personally. Still, we count it an honor to be there for people when they need us most. Together, my pastor husband and I have counseled and comforted, preached and sung our way through a hundred sad gatherings and sorrowful good byes. How wonderful when those farewells can celebrate life more than bemoan death.

Recently, the mourners came in smiling, laughing and honoring a long and lovely life. Though little Ruthella fell shy of 5 foot, she cast a long shadow over her community and left a legacy. She lived life well for nearly 97 years. That's a lot of time. Time to be born and time to die. Time to plant and time to uproot. Time to tear down and time to build. Time to weep and time to laugh. Time to mourn and time to dance. Time to love and time to hate. Time for war and time for peace. Though she racked up decades of opportunities to do it all, she was content to just do what she did best, and bloom right where she was planted.

Her vast extended family remembered a woman who spent most of that time living, planting, building, laughing, dancing and loving on all of them. She chose kindness, forgiveness and gentleness, whether enduring hefty trials or just every day messes. According to those who knew her best, she never lost her temper, never raised her voice. She just took it all in stride with an easy-going demeanor. Perhaps her longevity was due to her passivity. She let a whole lot roll off her near-to-the-ground shoulders that could have weighed the little lady down. She resisted the temptation to retaliate. As a result, she wore grace as her garment instead of rage. Her pattern must be the healthy path to take. It obviously served her well.

It is a fact, that the opposite is true. A person filled with anger destroys himself and his reputation. Hot-tempered fools self-destruct from high blood pressure, heart attacks and ulcers. They poison relationships and create animosity and enemies.

Hate begets hate. Rage embitters and distances. But a quiet and gentle spirit produces peace and praise. Ruthella's example left a big, beautiful wake of grace.

Frankly, I'd like to live more in her tiny boots than walk in big, worldly shoes. I'm tired of the rage and rants in society. Everybody seems to have a bone to pick. At the drop of a hat, we come out with dukes up and fighting mad over any little thing. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). I'd just like to see more of it devoted to good things. Maybe if we lived more like Ruthella and less like rebels, always with a cause, we'd live life well and others would want it to be long.

Pit Stop Pity and Prayer

By Brenda Black

I hesitated to pull into the gas station. No one was at the pump and it didn't look like this particular convenience store was frequented often. I wondered how clean or how safe it would be. But I was desperate. I needed a pit stop!

No one was at the counter and the place appeared empty. I hesitated just for a second and considered retreating back to the parking lot. Then a young woman peeked through a door frame from the far corner of the store, with a wadded towel compressed against her forehead. She dutifully welcomed me with a weary “Hello, Welcome to Casey's.” As I processed her appearance, I pressed my reason for entering and she pointed to a hallway that led to my destination.

When I returned to the main room, I was alone again, but headed to the refrigerator section to select a drink for the rest of my journey. Then, she emerged once more with said towel still pressed to said head. I asked, “Are you alright?” and she replied, “I have a terrible headache.” Though she was in pain, I was a bit relieved that she wasn't being held at gunpoint at the back of the store and had not been rapped on the noggin by some thug.

She briefly shared how often she suffers from migraines and I listened knowingly. Sometimes those awful things can be right down debilitating. I felt sorry that she had to plug on through the day in such discomfort. When I asked her name, she looked at me with wonder? I repeated my query and she answered, “Lisa.”

I called her by name and then told Lisa I was going to pray for her the entire stretch of the road through this town, at least three or four miles and that many stoplights would give me time to plead her case before the Lord. As I prayed, I began to cry, filled with empathy for a stranger I'd known for a mere minute. Not only did I beg for relief from her suffering, but I prayed that she would feel the fiery touch of God and would know it was a direct result of prayer. I asked God to soften her heart and if she knew Him, that this would bolster her faith; if she didn't, it would awaken her hunger!

I'll never know this side of heaven if Lisa's headache disappeared, but I prayed believing! And when I had poured out all of my petition and reached the edge of the city limits, I surmised that the reason for my need to pull off the main road was more about Lisa than about me.

The Apostle Paul instructed Titus in chapter 3, verse 14: “Our people must learn to devote themselves to doing what is good, in order that they may provide for daily necessities and not live unproductive lives.”

I could have been insensitive and diminished her trouble or demanded better service and expected her to buck up and do her job regardless. But I didn't. I had compassion on a total stranger who was doing her best to serve me under the worst of her own circumstances. Though I couldn't take her pain away, I could pray to the One who is able and I could practice patience and kindness.

How simple, how easy it was to do good and provide for Lisa's immediate need. And how thankful I am that I learned again so much of life is not about me. It's about being God's hands and feet and providing daily necessities in unexpected ways to those in need.