Driving through town from the funeral home to the cemetery was a surreal experience. It was hard to comprehend that folks were simply going about their business, completely unaware that a light had gone out of the world.
For 89 years, Edith Thompson gracefully sailed seas that were rougher than most I’ve known — life with a beloved husband who struggled early with alcohol, later with cancer; the death of a baby son; health problems; financial struggles; and other challenges that would certainly have snuffed the joy right out of most souls.
But through it all, Edith never lost the trademark twinkle in her eye, her life bearing witness to the biblical words of Job: “But He knows the way that I take; when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold.”
I don’t know what the “window” from Heaven to earth is like — if those gone on can tune in to their own funeral services — but I hope Edith could. She never really believed her life made much of a difference. If she heard what was spoken at her funeral, she now knows it did. It surely did.
Time was given in the service to allow folks to spontaneously share memories of Edith. From all over the chapel, people rose and told of the impact this joyful, encouraging lady had on them.
One woman said her nine-year-old daughter claimed Edith as her “second best friend.” A nephew described zany childhood adventures with Aunt Edith. One by one, folks stood and bore witness to the magical spark in this uniquely delightful and elegant lady.
I told of frequently taking Edith to lunch and how nearly every time she got in my car, she told me how excited and ready she was to “go home and be with Jesus.” I usually responded with, “Hey, I’m glad you’re ready, but do me a favor — please don’t die in my car! If you do, I’ll need some serious counseling.” We would giggle and I would thank God for a friend who was honest, wise, and so very much in love with Jesus.
My last conversation with Edith yielded a sweet memory I will cherish all my life. Knowing how much she loved to talk about the Lord, I said, “Edith, do you know what God showed me this morning in His Word?” Slumped in her chair, her body failing, her hair looking quite like Albert Einstein’s (which she acknowledged with a hearty chuckle), she suddenly leaned forward, the fire returned to her eyes and she said with her typtical zeal, “Oooh, what did He show you? Tell me!”
It’s painful to realize that I will now have to run my race without Edith here cheering me on, constantly pointing me to the God we both love. She helped me believe God could do things in me, for me, through me, and with me that I’m not sure I could have believed on my own.
One thing’s for sure: I’ll take a piece of Edith with me in my heart everywhere I go. I hope she’s watching, wearing a heavenly replica of the red hat her buddies made her – the one with the fringe and sparkles. If you are, Edith, know this – your life mattered. It mattered more than you could imagine.
My prayer is that I can be to others what you were to me.