A
Anonymous
Guest
Today was a somber day. Last evening, Linda called me and told me that Evelyn's mother had passed away.
Now, we were next-door neighbors for the longest time. Evelyn and I were the same age. She even introduced me to my first wife (her best friend in High School) via a blind double date with her future spouse Keith. It was a good match, for the most part, lasting 24 years and producing two beautiful daughters.
We had the best of times through our teens and twenties and thirties and forties.
Evelyn has always had dark, haunting eyes and shoulder-length raven-colored hair. Now as we both are in our fifties, there is a touch or two of grey on both of us and a few extra pounds as well. When she was in High School, she was a classic beauty. I could see that, even today.
You know, when I go to a funeral, I cringe when the preacher tries to display sincerity even if they don't know the deceased. But this was not the case today--an answer to prayer. The service was so personal and loving, presided over by her pastor. It was humerous, eloquent and appropriate--a celebration of the life of Ms Levata Neilson Lewis.
Desiree, Evelyn's twenty-something year-old daughter, approached the podium and gave a touching eulogy and testimony as to her grandmother's affect on her life. Desiree, looks like her mother. They could pass for sisters. I was so proud of her for holding up so well. I've been there and except for the grace and power of God, it could not have possibly happened the way it did--in her case or mine.
The grandchildren and great-grandchildren sang all the music (taped) and at the end of the last song they said in unison, "We love you Grandma." Such a personal touch to a grand old lady!
At the end of the service the ushers motioned for us to file by and give our last respects. I did. I touched the casket and then made a slow 180 to exit. At that moment, I glanced at the family--my friends, to my right. Evelyn looked up with the velvet eyes of a life-long friend, and our eyes met in sorrow. She stood there with her husband, strong for her kids, siblings and grandkids. Her eyes widened and brimmed.
I formed silent words "love you" to her and her brothers, knowing nothing else to say. She just smiled and I proceeded out the door into the sunshine and fresh air.
To have such compassion for a friend is a true blessing. Do you know that? It reminds me of when Christ wept with Martha and Mary and other friends of Lazarous...knowing that HE was going to raise him from the dead, He STILL wept out of love and compassion for them.
Ms Laveta has been spiritually raised from the dead--I know. I spoke to her and her husband in depth, some time ago about this inevitable journey into eternity. Nevertheless, my heart ached for Stevie, Randy and my friend Evelyn, the one with the raven hair and velvet eyes.
Having gone down the same road as my dear childhood friend was now entering, all I could do was ache deeply for her, and offer my compassion through a returning, prolonged glance and the love of lasting friendship. Funny how God does things. The interlocking velvet glance telegraphed, from half way across the room, the friendship of a lifetime, powerful and priceless.
The next time you have to travel the road of grief and sadness and loss, prayerfully read Psalm 71. If you are His, then it is for you.
Tomorrow will be a better day for everyone. But days like today brings one to grips with their mortality. Our lives are like a vapor--here only for a little while. Will you be ready to take that journey when it's your turn?
Do you have a special friend that you have not seen for awhile? Maybe it's time for a visit. Hmmmm.
Your friend, <><
John
Now, we were next-door neighbors for the longest time. Evelyn and I were the same age. She even introduced me to my first wife (her best friend in High School) via a blind double date with her future spouse Keith. It was a good match, for the most part, lasting 24 years and producing two beautiful daughters.
We had the best of times through our teens and twenties and thirties and forties.
Evelyn has always had dark, haunting eyes and shoulder-length raven-colored hair. Now as we both are in our fifties, there is a touch or two of grey on both of us and a few extra pounds as well. When she was in High School, she was a classic beauty. I could see that, even today.
You know, when I go to a funeral, I cringe when the preacher tries to display sincerity even if they don't know the deceased. But this was not the case today--an answer to prayer. The service was so personal and loving, presided over by her pastor. It was humerous, eloquent and appropriate--a celebration of the life of Ms Levata Neilson Lewis.
Desiree, Evelyn's twenty-something year-old daughter, approached the podium and gave a touching eulogy and testimony as to her grandmother's affect on her life. Desiree, looks like her mother. They could pass for sisters. I was so proud of her for holding up so well. I've been there and except for the grace and power of God, it could not have possibly happened the way it did--in her case or mine.
The grandchildren and great-grandchildren sang all the music (taped) and at the end of the last song they said in unison, "We love you Grandma." Such a personal touch to a grand old lady!
At the end of the service the ushers motioned for us to file by and give our last respects. I did. I touched the casket and then made a slow 180 to exit. At that moment, I glanced at the family--my friends, to my right. Evelyn looked up with the velvet eyes of a life-long friend, and our eyes met in sorrow. She stood there with her husband, strong for her kids, siblings and grandkids. Her eyes widened and brimmed.
I formed silent words "love you" to her and her brothers, knowing nothing else to say. She just smiled and I proceeded out the door into the sunshine and fresh air.
To have such compassion for a friend is a true blessing. Do you know that? It reminds me of when Christ wept with Martha and Mary and other friends of Lazarous...knowing that HE was going to raise him from the dead, He STILL wept out of love and compassion for them.
Ms Laveta has been spiritually raised from the dead--I know. I spoke to her and her husband in depth, some time ago about this inevitable journey into eternity. Nevertheless, my heart ached for Stevie, Randy and my friend Evelyn, the one with the raven hair and velvet eyes.
Having gone down the same road as my dear childhood friend was now entering, all I could do was ache deeply for her, and offer my compassion through a returning, prolonged glance and the love of lasting friendship. Funny how God does things. The interlocking velvet glance telegraphed, from half way across the room, the friendship of a lifetime, powerful and priceless.
The next time you have to travel the road of grief and sadness and loss, prayerfully read Psalm 71. If you are His, then it is for you.
Tomorrow will be a better day for everyone. But days like today brings one to grips with their mortality. Our lives are like a vapor--here only for a little while. Will you be ready to take that journey when it's your turn?
Do you have a special friend that you have not seen for awhile? Maybe it's time for a visit. Hmmmm.
Your friend, <><
John
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