Paying it Forward on Epiphany
“It is important that we learn humility, which says there was someone else before me who paid for me. My responsibility is to prepare myself so that I can pay for someone else who is yet to come.”—Maya Angelou
the rev. gordon maroney
On this first day of Epiphany, I often remember friends who have died.
I am thinking of a priest friend, Gordon Maroney, who died just before Christmas this year. Gordon taught high school math and was a faithful priest to two small churches in east Arkansas. Gordon was also a consistent reader of Daily Something, even up to a few days before his death. He shared Daily Something each morning with his congregations. He was a consummate teacher to the end. I will try to honor Gordon by being a faithful friend and mentor to other congregations and groups, no matter the size, knowing numbers are not significant. I have a story to tell, and I long to hear their story. This is where love lives.
Another picture includes a few of our many friends who have died in the past years that we can barely talk about and want to remember and honor.
sylvia
I also always remember Sylvia, who died many years ago and whom I dearly loved. We worked together early in my ministry at St. Margaret’s. She taught me about servant leadership. She was a single mom, a nurse, and a caregiver like none other. She was a visitor from St. Margaret’s who went to the sick to say prayers. However, she became more like a parish nurse, advocating in the hospital for the medical condition of those with whom she said prayers. Sylvia would go to nursing stations and let anyone know what “her patients” needed.
We started a 12-step group at our church, which lasted only four months. Sylvia was one of the first to come to it and was in recovery for the rest of her life. We always believed we started it just for her and never regretted any effort we put into it.
Sylvia loved us, but more than us, she loved her grandchildren, whom she talked about almost constantly.
She died too early while her grandchildren were still young. Somehow, I stay connected to her family and know a little about her oldest granddaughter. I intermittently write to Darcy and tell her some stories about her grandmother, but I especially tell her how much Sylvia loved and adored her. I honestly believe Sylvia has somehow been “suggesting” that I do this the way she made “suggestions” so well in her physical life. This is precisely what she would tell me to do if she were physically beside me.
Sylvia wants her grandchildren, Jack and Darcy, to know how much they were and are still loved. In turn, Sylvia reminds us that we can do the same. When I remember Sylvia’s untimely death, I am moved to call, text, email, or visit my grandchildren as I remember what a privilege it is to let them know they are loved.
This was my Epiphany present this year from Sylvia and for many years to come.
I am learning that other recently deceased friends have also left gifts that I am to share with others. Maybe I can talk about them next year without weeping all over this paper. It takes time, prayer, and talking to other friends to process the death of a loved one. Slowly, gifts emerge that call us to pay their love forward.
