About Alice

I just returned from the funeral service of a woman I'd only met a handful of times. She was a dear friend's mother-in-law and passed away two months shy of her 95th birthday. As I was thinking about her and the family this week, I realized that when she was my age, she hadn't yet lived half of her life.

I didn't know Alice very well; I'm sure she wouldn't have known who I was if our paths had crossed other than at her son and daughter-in-law's home, where we would have been reintroduced. I attended today's service in support of my friends, but came away blessed by the testimony of Alice's life.

She was born in Plymouth, PA, and raised in Wilkes-Barre in a coal-mining family. She was only eight years younger than my grandfather who, along with many in his family, were also coal miners in that region. She, like my grandfather and many of their generation, left that area for different opportunities. She moved to Harrisburg and began a job in state government. She met her husband through her roommate, and when he was drafted in WWII, she took the train to Mississippi to marry him before he was deployed. And then, like many other young women, she worked while she waited for the next snail-mail letter from her soldier, which took up to a month to arrive.

When her husband returned, she stopped working and stayed home to raise their two children. She and her husband bought a piece of land and built the house where they would live the rest of their lives. They were founding members of the church where her service was held today. They celebrated 50 years of marriage and enjoyed 18 years of retirement together. Alice outlived her beloved by two decades.

When it came time for attendees to share their memories of Alice, there was an awkward pause. I thought to myself, as I had several times over the week, that when you live 95 years, you've likely outlived most of your friends who have shared your life's journey. But then ...

The pastor read from a letter from her nephew in North Carolina, who I'm guessing to be in his 80s. He recalled how Alice lived Philippians 4:8: Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things. He said Alice gave those around her much think about as she embodied each of those characteristics. He remembered decades earlier when Alice had made his new bride feel welcome and comfortable when she arrived in Pennsylvania from the South.

My friend's mom said how when she met Alice, she and her husband went to shake hands, and Alice said, "Oh, no. We're huggers." The music minister was a bit emotional as he shared how he missed Alice's kind words of greeting each Sunday from her usual pew. Another woman from church shared how Alice encouraged her in the early years of her marriage, when she was feeling insecure about her role as a wife.

I love stories, and as I sat in the memorial service for a woman I barely new, surrounded primarily by friends of her children gathered in support, I thought about stories. Each of us has a story. Each of our stories matters. If we look closely enough, we can find parallels between our own stories and those of others. The little things we say can make a significant difference and may be remembered decades after we've forgotten the words. Hard work is important - whether on the job, at home, in the community or at church. Sometimes - most of the time - you have to go the extra mile for the ones you love. Perseverance and endurance matter, whether we're building a marriage, a home or a church.

I came away today encouraged by the example of a life well-lived over more than nine decades. I rejoice that Alice is where she has longed to be, and I am grateful to be inspired by her legacy.