Due
to an accident on May 15 in which both wrists were fractured, I have not
posted on my blog since that time. It has been a long recovery, and I am still
in process. I had hoped to begin next week with regular posts. But the loss of
an extraordinary person has prompted me to come in a week early. I hope when
you read this, you will be inspired by the life of our wonderful Connie.
The joy of the Lord is my strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).
If you asked twenty people who knew Connie what her most memorable characteristic was, everyone would say her laughter. In any space she occupied, she filled it with an undeniable joy.
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| photos by Andrea Edmunds |
I know her from our church where Jerry is the pastor. If Connie was in the building, you knew it. Her joyous outbursts would reach you from wherever she was, and you really didn’t care why she was laughing, you wanted to laugh, too.
But
that laughter was not superficial, it stemmed from the joy of the Lord and went
to her very soul.
Connie had a wit about her that enabled her to call out a situation like the Emperor’s New Clothes,
the thing no one wanted to say, but she could say it and make us laugh.
She would often tell me I was beautiful (we were all beautiful to her), encourage
me in my work, and say that she loved me. She did this for everyone she knew. And she was a kid magnet, one of the qualities you will find in my book character.
She
was a determined, smart, and brave person who, having left college without a
degree early in her life, went back at the age of fifty-six, and finished the requirements
for a Bachelor of Science degree in accounting--all while working a full-time
job.
Diagnosed with ALS a couple of years ago, Connie started with symptoms that
most see at the end of the cruel disease, which greatly affected her vocal cords. In time
we lost that wonderful laughter. But when you visited her, you could still see
it in her eyes, because that joy was there even in the face of her difficult circumstances. And she could still make us laugh, laboriously using her iPad
with her weakened hands and fingers to give us a few words.
And
always, she wanted us to know she loved us.
Someone
once asked John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, what it was that distinguished
the people called Methodist. He replied, “Our people die well.”
I
am here to tell you, our friend Connie died well. That’s because she lived well,
she lived strong, and she lived in the joy of the Lord.
I’ve
had the sense before when I lost someone dear to me, that it’s as if someone
walked to a doorway, turned off the light switch, and closed the door. It’s
that way with Connie. Her light is now shining in heaven, and she won’t be with
us the same way she has been in the past. But she does live on in memory, and we
will always hold the sound of her laughter in our hearts.
During the recent time when I couldn't use my hands due to the fractures, every day I thought of Connie who also couldn't use her hands and still maintained a joyous spirit. It helped me to remember her attitude, because barring a miracle she did not have the hope of recovery. Her example was such a guiding light to me.
I tend to be a serious person, but the legacy and challenge Connie has left me is to continue to find laughter and joy even amid suffering. And when I do, I will remember her.
Perhaps,
you might do the same. She and the Lord would love it if you did.