Marilyn

March 5, 2019

She sits by herself at the booth in the diner, drinking her coffee and greeting by name all who walk past. Years ago when she first sat in that booth, others sat with her. One by one, they disappeared, taken by that grim reaper. The last to go was her good friend Roy. I read of his passing in a Facebook post by an acquaintance, learning in the process that Roy had been the pastor of a small congregation in the city. I had known he was a believer; his greetings addressing me as pastor and the brief conversations we had tipped me off. His having been a pastor however, was a surprise. He was as common as they come, and didn’t strike me as pastoral material, which is probably good. Whenever a stranger concludes that I am a pastor, my first thought is, “What am I doing wrong to give it away?” Most preconceptions about pastors I’ve learned, are not particularly favorable.

Two weeks ago when I walked into the diner, she greeted me with the news of Roy’s death. When I mentioned that I had heard and that I had access to photos of him from the friend’s Facebook post, she was interested. She didn’t have any pictures of her own. I told her I would make copies and give them to her, which I did this morning, complete with frames. Did I mention that she is poor, and even small investments in unnecessary items are not easy for her.

The friend with whom I usually sit couldn’t make it today, so I sat down with her, and in the process came away wiser. If ordinary had a face, it would be hers. There is kindness in her eyes and a soft smile that readily lights up her face, but she is not what the world would call beautiful. But that’s because the world has such a hard time seeing what’s really there. As a child, she “accepted Jesus into my heart,” was baptized, and decided she wanted to be a medical missionary. She enrolled in a Bible college in Texas, earned her Bachelor of Science degree in Bible, but then as so often happens, life got in the way. 

She returned home to take care of her parents, doing so until their deaths about fifteen years ago. By then, the mission field was out of reach, so she took on housekeeping jobs, which she does to this day. I wonder if she has any regrets, any “What if” moments. In our unceasing quest for significance, we so often equate it with important things we’ve been able to accomplish, but what happens when for reasons known only to himself, God places us on a shelf? John Wesley’s Covenant Prayer, which has been a staple of ordination and New Year’s Eve Watchnight services for generations, has a line which says, “Let me be employed by Thee, or laid aside for Thee...” which is much easier to pray than to experience. 

I suspect that much of what we think we accomplish is not nearly as significant as the humble service of this woman who laid aside her dreams to care for her parents. She was after all, fulfilling the Fourth Commandment to honor our parents for Christ’s sake. I am thankful for the opportunity I was given to sit at the feet of a saint to learn a lesson in humble service for the love of Christ, and I honor you, Marilyn.