From the Bench
A TRIBUTE TO TWO LADIES
Marian Keith died last week. So did Ethel Barber, less than twenty-four hours later. Many of you who read this column knew them. Many others did not. But all of us can reflect on their quiet but remarkable lives, and learn from them.
There was less than a year’s difference in their ages. They were ninety-three, going on ninety-four. They shared much of the same history.
The year they were born, William Howard Taft was President of The United States. By the time they were ten, America had helped conclude World War I, the "war to end all wars." They were barely thirty when they discovered it was a lie.
Before they were thirty, both young women had started families, at a time, and in an era, that makes today’s economic uncertainty pale. They called it "The Great Depression".
There has not been a similar period in American history, before or since.
They weathered it, and more. Both had lost husbands, but, perhaps worse, both had lost children. One, late in life, cared for and watched a daughter slowly wither and die from ALS, Lou Gehrig’s disease. She probably missed church more during this time than she ever had before in her life, for this was a characteristic that both ladies shared throughout their lives. Faithfulness. Quiet faithfulness.
But there were differences, too. One of the ladies was a poet, and you will find one of her poems elsewhere in this edition. She was extremely sensitive, and careful not to offend. At her service, a family member said the harshest language she ever uttered was, "My word."
The other was quietly assertive. Not offensive, but assertive. The story was told that once she and her husband had a strong disagreement. He hadn't listened. She washed his underwear, starched it heavily and hung it out to dry. Stiff as a board.
He got the message. His listening improved and the marriage not only survived, but also thrived, til his death.
There is a lesson to be learned and treasured from the lives of these ladies. A lesson not only for those of us who profess a Christian faith, but also for those who do not but who would shape a model for us to follow. And even for some of those who stand before us on Sunday, either in person or via the "miracle" of television.
Faith does not put us in a man-made straight jacket. There are different paths to reach the same destination, guided by a common light not made by men. Oh, we are often influenced by a reflection of that light. These ladies were shining examples of that; however, they would be the first, in their extreme modesty, to tell you to look beyond.
But I will miss that reflection. I will miss it on Sunday morning when I stand before that group who remain. There will be two vacant chairs. And should I go through another valley of darkness as I did once before, a part of that reflected light of hope will be missing, unless those of us who remain have caught it a little more.
Ladies, rest in peace. Rest, for you have earned it.