On February 28th, our pastor's wife, Terri, passed away unexpectedly. She was a beautiful, vibrant woman - a mother to four children, a much-loved wife, a teacher to special needs kids, and passionate worshiper. Mike and I attended her service this evening, and I wrote this as soon as we came home. To say that Terri will be missed is the understatement of the year.
I went to your funeral tonight. I’ve been dreading it all week. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve been trying to pretend that it wasn’t going to happen. I’ve been walking around in a daze, forgetting where I was going in the car, in disbelief that this has happened. Whenever I stop long enough to think, all I can think is, “this sucks.” Church last Sunday was awful. People walking around with bloated faces, repeating over and over, “did you hear?” The collective exhale when Reverend Charlotte told us the news. The 8-year old boy wiping his eyes after church, communicating what the rest of us were too stunned to express. I don’t ever want to live through that again, yet I would not have rather been anywhere else.
I will always remember you, in a church full of white folks, keeping us all on the beat with your clapping. We are going to be so off without you! I will always remember you seeking me out to ask me how school was going, and listening as someone who has been there when I poured out way more information than you needed to know. I hate the idea of you not being in church this Sunday. I promise that I will help take care of your family and surround them with love and support. You are part of my cloud of witnesses now, and I hope that I will make you proud.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. -Hebrews 12:1