Revival

I am from a faith tradition that wings the benediction.

I have an idea, but never a plan on how it's going to turn out.

Today I kept it simple. I shared some of the last words I heard from a congregant who passed a few days ago.

I'd gone to visit her in hospice. She was herself.
Spunky.
Spry.
Giving orders.

She told me I needed to go home and feed my children when it started to get late.

She was moxie personified.

I was in a rough place when I went. Turning some things over in my head.

Sitting with her was one of the times when a preacher goes to minister to someone, and the person ends up ministering to them.

I was the student, she the teacher.

She told me about her faith.
How she knew God was real.
And that no matter what choices I made, no matter what I did, everything would work out all right.

It was a message of hope. A message I needed to hear.

Standing in front of the church this morning with people who'd known her longer than I had, I shared the same message.

Somehow, everything is going to work out all right.

I'm thankful for her message.

In a time when folks look to jump on each other over anything, she was a revival—an improvement on this old human condition.

She extended grace and mercy when she didn't have to.

It appears that was just her way