DEAR CHURCH LADIES FROM MY HOMETOWN

I'd know that view anywhere ...

It's inside the little Brownsville United Methodist Church. It's where my Grandma Jobe played piano, but not in my lifetime. It's where I went to church growing up. It's where I got married at 20. In the graveyard surrounding it is where my family members who have passed are buried.

It's taken me weeks to write this post. Recently my brother's ashes were buried in the cemetery here, surrounded by our other close family members nearby, including  close by our brother David and his wife Janet, and our folks, Huburt and Martha Jobe, and a great-niece and great-great-nephew. On the other side of the cemetery, grandparents and great-grandparents.

It was a short service, occurring just before the stricter funeral gathering restrictions went into place. In fact the next day,  new work-from-home policies were established, despite our media exemption.

Life has been anything but normal since Tim's gravesite military burial, and a quick paying of respects. Then we dispersed back to our homes. Life will never be normal without Tim. He was the best. I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.

But I wanted to say something about the unexpected comfort I found that day from some special ladies. These church ladies, I've known all or most of my life. And there they were that day.

When we arrived at the cemetery, I heard strains of organ music coming from the church. There was no inside service, but I had to know who was in there playing. I went in and there was Charlotte,  as if there from a dream of an earlier time. Charlotte has always in my recollections, been an organist at my sweet little hometown church. 

She said because they had not had services the previous Sunday, and because she was thinking of Tim, she just wanted to come in and play ...

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And there was Pat, changing the sign out front. Another dear heart I've known all my life.

Lois was there, too. She asked if we wanted photos sitting in the pew space where my mother and I sat on Sundays. So briefly, all too briefly, that's where we were and I turned the camera on her.

On one of the hardest days ever, despite the years, despite the distance in miles, despite lots of life getting in the way, despite the quick service, despite it all, I was comforted uniquely and tremendously by these constants in my life from my little church in the wild wood. Thank you ladies.

​And then, it was over ... and we were on our way home.