The most
important person in my early life, besides my parents, was my Aunt. I never knew
my grandparents and she was all this and more. She was the person who was always
glad to see me and found me delightful. Not many did, for I think I was a
difficult child. I always talked too much and took center stage whenever
possible.
My Aunt was a beloved teacher. I have the notes from the adult class she led for years at the Methodist church. She served on state and national boards–a liberated women of the 30’s, ahead of her time. One of her early stories was that she refused to be the principal of the elementary school unless they paid her the same salary as they paid a man. As a widow with two small children, she needed the money. They came back the next year and gave her the job with a man’s salary!
My Aunt made her own decision about entering the new retirement home and with a good friend, became one of the first residents. For her, in many ways, it was not the experience that she had expected. There were many growing pains for the new establishment. Certainly, for me, it was hard to see her treated as an old person with limited mental capacity. Now I realize my love and admiration colored my perceptions of how she was treated.
When my beloved Aunt died there I declared I would never set foot in the place again. But I did, to visit another dear old friend, Elsie. She also wanted more intellectual stimulus and a deeper prayer life. On my visits we shared books and devotional material. Henri Nouwen was one of her favorites. When they moved the little chapel that she prayed in every night before bed, it broke her heart and mine. The pain and anger rose in me each time I visited her. Nothing had changed, it seemed to me. With Elsie’s death, I knew I would never go back!
When I was asked to chair the Elder Council as I retired from the FAW Board, I was delighted to be of any service I could. God is a surprise, you know. The very first plan offered was to provide a ministry to retirement homes. I knew all about what was needed, but I thought that I could administer this from a distance. No hands on for me!
Then I received an invitation from some young women who were starting a ministry from our church. “Would I please come to the retirement home and speak and teach people how to share and do a Bible study?” God had a Barnabas” there who came for me and encouraged me. She also had dream for that place which would include me! We would organize some small groups using Dick Meyer’s book, One Anothering. I felt the energy of a call stirring! I couldn’t believe it. Go to the place I had hated for so many years? But it seemed so right. We would pray and see.
Several weeks later, she and I sat in the Chaplain’s office and described the small group ministry we wanted to start. He was in everyway receptive and delighted. He suggested an additional group in the area where those folks who had disabilities lived. I heard myself saying ,”I can do that” and I felt the tears flow. God had called me into the pain of my Aunt’s diminishment for healing. “I can give to others what I wish had been given to my beloved Aunt.”
I think one of the reasons that Moses heard God’s call was the pain he felt for his brothers enslaved in Egypt. He may have been thinking of them as he tended Jethro’s sheep. (Exodus 3). The places where we have been sensitized by pain or a sense of inadequacy may well be the very places where God is calling us to love and serve others for God’s sake.
Is there some place where you’ve said, “I’ll never go there again”?
Can you imagine a different outcome if you heard it as call?
Who might go with you?
Nancy Boyle is a relational Bible teacher and member of the Elder Council of Faith at Work. She lives with her husband, Mac, in Columbia SC.