After my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold. Job 19:26-27
I had grown to know an old woman fairly well over the past seven years. Each week, I’d give her and her son a lift to the post office and her chiropractor appointment. Although the only place I ever saw her was in the passenger seat of my car, we had grown to be good friends. I was saddened when I learned she had died. I’m going to miss our twenty minutes a week spent visiting, praying, and listening.
Ms. Walker had very little by American standards, but she had a way of taking the little she did have and making it stretch. She had one son. This was the extent of her family. They spent all their time together. He did his best to take care of her. She did all she could to be a constant rock in his life. A tiny family to be sure, but familial love shown as a light in their little.
Ms. Walker also had me, a man who more often than I’d like to admit, grudgingly drove her around town like a personal taxi service during my lunch break once a week. For seven years, we had this unwritten arrangement. She did not have many friends, but the friends she did have she found a way to make us feel as special as we were to her.
Her’s was a life of struggle and suffering. Everything was a challenge as long as I’ve known her. Over time, I witnessed her steady decline of already poor health. Still she made what little health she had stretch. Never wanting to worry anyone, she’d quietly ask for prayers for healing. She assured me she always felt immediately better.
There really is something to knowing for certain the Lord hears our prayers. It really means everything to know that Jesus is literally right there listening and answering. I’d never known Ms. Walker to go to church, but she did have this little faith in Jesus. That faith has been stretched for her into something far greater than she could have ever imagined.
She closed her eyes on the pain and suffering of this tired world only to open them anew to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord who had so often held her hand and patiently listened to her every prayer. She said goodbye to her over-small, poorly land-lorded apartment, only to be brought into the mansion the Lord had prepared for her. She bid farewell to us, the few she could call family and friends, and was welcomed into heaven by the countless throng of saints who have gone before us to await together the day of resurrection.
That tiny woman, who couldn’t have weighed eighty pounds, found a way to stretch herself into my heart. And my heart has broken a little to learn that my dear sister in Christ has left us to be with Jesus. Small though she was in stature and possession, she will most certainly loom large in my remembrances. Today, Ms. Walker is with her Lord and that brings me comfort.
Lord Jesus Christ, as you have so often heard the prayers of your servant Ms. Walker, hear also the prayers of all your people and grant healing, peace, comfort, and hope as only you can do. Amen.