THE LULU CHRONICLES
What I love about my life today: Good people. I am surrounded by good people. Even though I am seven hundred miles or so away from home right now, people I hardly know have shown me compassion. You see Gary battled cancer for three years. The minute the word got out that he was sick people fell to their knees and began praying for him—people we knew and tons of people we didn’t know. In church bulletins all around the country Gary’s name was placed on prayer lists. One time we were in a restaurant and a teenager we didn’t know came up to us and told Gary she had been praying for him. Some how she had heard about his battle and was so happy to put a face to the prayer.
This past Wednesday night I went to church with my mom and found myself being hugged by people I barely knew. Gary’s name had periodically appeared in their church bulletin for the past three years. Many had tears in their eyes. Some embraced me while others gently took my hand and patted it. One whispered in my ear some thoughtful, loving words. She had lost her husband over ten years ago. I was now a member of the-->sorority —a sister widow.
To be honest, I dreaded walking through the doors. No one wants to be pitied. Sad looks and people fumbling over their words makes me feel like I should apologize for my sorrow and for putting them on the spot. At times I feel like the Elephant Man, remember that story? It was a great movie as I recall. A terribly deformed man hid in dark corners and back alleys with a ratty hood over his head because he was so hideous looking. I have a hole in my chest where my heart once was, that can’t be pretty.
However, everyone who has tried to comfort me from home and afar have gently removed the hood touched my wound and has not looked away. I wish this for everyone whose life map has been torn in two. Good people. Church folk.
I am encouraging anyone out there in the blog-o-sphere who has lost their way to run not walk toward a family of Believers. They are different. They are Spirit-led. They think nothing of putting others before themselves. Their arms are outstretched, their dinner tables always have room for one more, and as they say in the south, they can be counted on when you drop your basket.
Good people. How could this hurting, tattered world survive without them? How would I survive without them? How would I survive without them? I couldn’t. I can’t. God is good.