My Aunt Pat walked into heaven two weeks ago on May 10th.

As I remember Aunt Pat, two qualities stand out. Aunt Pat trusted me. Even as a young teen, Aunt Pat was willing to call on me as her babysitter. She was a brave woman. I wonder if I ever told her of taking her young son to the lake and how he almost escaped from me running toward the water? Probably not. It was pretty scary for me. And I wanted to continue to be trusted. I was.

And Aunt Pat was an affirm-er. Her words always left me with a smile. My last phone conversation with her was a few months after my Mom died. Not only did she abundantly thank me for calling, affirming me, she also affirmed my Mother. She spoke of my Mother believing in her and trusting her. She told me how my Mom’s words were powerful enough to change the scene on her wedding day. Aunt Pat’s remembering was a gift to me.

Two days after Aunt Pat died, I sat in front of the large picture windows at the end of the hallway, Bill sleeping a few doors down anesthetic still controlling his body. More memories flooded back. Aunt Pat had a long career as a nurse.

As I watched the nurses scurrying from room to room ministering meds and hope to those in the beds, I thought of Aunt Pat. It was easy to picture her offering meds and hope to those in her charge.

While I watched, my earbuds privately delivered a podcast — I didn’t want to disturb the patients or the nurses. The topic of the podcast was fairy tales, magic, and being human. The speakers suggesting that fairy tales with their magic can deliver faith to the humans who listen and are quiet enough to be enthralled.

The podcast connected me in a new way with Aunt Pat.

Aunt Pat’s grand-daughter, Maggie, a self-proclaimed “Discoverer of the magic in the ordinary”, wrote a beautiful tribute to her Grammie testifying to her faith, caught as a child through the wonder of magic. Curly gray hair connecting with tattooed arms, generation to generation, through pretending and believing. The beauty of their bond offering a legacy of hope.

Their bond strengthened over the years. Maggie grew and followed her Grammie into nursing. They had much in common, much to share. Like the nurses I observed two weeks ago, Aunt Pat and Maggie both chose a life of service to those who are hurting, who are scared, who need the magic, the reality of hope.

 

I didn’t know my Aunt Pat in the same way Maggie knew her Grammie. I’m thankful for the gift of Maggie’s words painting a more complete and deeper, more beautiful picture of Aunt Pat.

In her waning days, my cousin’s (Maggie’s dad) wife sat and read the gospel of John to Aunt Pat. Another story, this account not a fairy-tale, but the true story of Jesus, the true story of God’s love unfolding through the God-man becoming flesh, becoming human so that we may believe.

 

 

“Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples,
which are not written in this book:
but these are written
so that
you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God,
and that by believing
you many have life in his name.”
John 20:30 and 31

I understand that hearing is the last sense to go. As Aunt Pat lay silently, she lay listening to this true story.

“So faith comes from hearing,
and hearing through the word of Christ.”
Romans 10:17

I wonder, was Aunt Pat also remembering?

 

The podcast I was listening to, “The Gospel According to Fairy Tales”. https://outoftheordinarypodcast.com/128-the-gospel-acccording-to-fairy-tales/

 

Copyright, Sue Tell, May 2021