miss hilda.

"i so want to be a part, to have a place, in God's kingdom one day. and i want you to have a place too. and we will laugh. and we will chat. and we will rejoice."

miss hilda said this to me on one of our morning visits back in march. thought it was profound enough to write in my journal then. she said a lot of profound things during our visits. about God. about life. and i learned more from her than i realize. and i will continue to process our moments together. as they have become a part of me. as she has become a part of me.

a couple tuesdays ago i was writing in my journal on the veranda. waiting for amanda to wake up. and sheldon passed by. let me know that miss hilda had passed on. and tears spilled out. and i thanked him for telling me. and i went and woke amanda up with the news. amanda had been blessed with two visits to see miss hilda during her stay. Something had inspired us to venture up there the day before, the day she died. and i was so thankful to have seen her that day. it was a day when margaret and oslyn were there. cleaning. and taking care of things. i felt relieved after our visit. that miss hilda was being cared for. and looking back, i'm thankful that at least there were people loving her on her last day.

that wednesday, we went to a praise service up at miss hilda's. we arrived late. the prayers had been offered. and now it was just lots of old hymns being sung. and it was strange to be in her house. clean. and filled with people gathered to honor her. as there were many days that passed in her life when she wasn't honored.

and this past wednesday, i went to her funeral. the first funeral i've been to in grenada where i actually knew the person. and it was short. and the sermon was general. but the songs made me cry as i considered them from miss hilda's perspective. one of the little hat-wearing church ladies invited me to sing "how great thou art" with her at the graveside. as a final tribute to miss hilda. and amidst sobs and a broken voice, i offered my song. there was a happy hour, as with all grenadian funerals. but there was something that bothered me about it. so much food and drink and extravagance to supposedly honor hilda. but wouldn't it have made more sense to have honored her while she was alive.

when she passed on, miss hilda couldn't walk. and her sight was failing. she had diabetes and a host of other health problems. she was merely sixty-one. but could have easily passed for eighty-one. she depended on the generosity of her neighbors to survive. her family members offered sporadic care. but were often neglectful. especially in offering compassion.

i would pass by miss hilda on my morning walks up to mount plaisir. my visits grew to be longer and more frequent during recent months. as i would stay and help out with whatever she asked. because i didn't know if she'd get tea or a bath or her insulin otherwise. and in return, she offered me wisdom. and love. she said she couldn't pray for herself alone, but must pray for us. she told me God would bless me on my journeys to continue the work he was calling me to do. she spoke of praising God continually. in all circumstances. she believed with all her heart that she would see and walk again. she shared her papaya and cabbage and beans with me. she taught me about generosity. and faith. and trust. and joy.

and i don't know how heaven works. but miss hilda makes me want to believe in heaven. makes me want to believe that she is laughing. and chatting. and rejoicing now. that she is dancing. and singing. and celebrating now. that she has discovered healing. and freedom. and peace.

and i thank God that our paths crossed. thank God for the moments we shared. for the ways our souls connected. and part of my purpose feels gone with miss hilda. but maybe not. maybe my purpose now is to find new ways to live out the things she taught me. to pass on who she was. to continue her story. prayers for openness to new ways to love. to serve. to honor. guide my feet on these journeys. on the paths you are calling me to walk.