She’s been asked to speak to a woman’s group. About grief. And what we’ve learned.
As we’ve talked about her coming presentation and she shared her heart, it seems to me this will be my wife’s title: “It’s not about what, it’s about who.”
Who came in the crisis; who listened; who cried, who cared.
Who ‘joined you on the journey and kept speaking words of encouragement to keep you pressing on despite obstacles and fatigue’ – one of the best definitions of a friend I’ve never forgotten.
When I was in training as a chaplain with the police department, we were told ‘they will never remember what you said. But they will remember that you came.’
In Seminary my favorite professor, Dr. Mattison, Homiletics, said we should all read Louis L’Amour because this “foremost storyteller of the authentic West who has thrilled a nation by chronicling the adventures of the brave men and women who settled the American frontier,” wrote in such a way Dr. Mattison said, “that you could smell the bacon frying.”
My current read is L’Amour’s “Ride the Dark Trail” and there is no one who has saddled up in life and not been down that path.
On the bottom of page 49 is this:
“It was not likely I’d ever find a woman like that, but no matter what any man says, there’s nothing better than two, a man and woman, who walk together. When they walk right together there’s no way too long, no night too dark.”
I did find a woman like that. A half-century ago.
Where we’ve been, what we’ve done, not nearly so important as who we were with.