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Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2)
I recognized the face immediately, older, certainly, and
her hair was a different color. But the shape of her smile had endured years of
crippling arthritis, transporting me to the high school classrooms we shared more
than 50 years ago.
Her name was … is … Diane. I didn’t know her well. We
were not friends, just pleasant acquaintances occupying the same spaces for a
few short years in our little high school. Most classes were required and
elective opportunities were few, so we saw the same people over-and-over from
one hour to the next until the bell rang at 3:57 p.m., setting the prisoners
free.
So, then, what is this flood of gratitude as she smiles at
me from a Facebook obituary, recounting her death at 71 and naming family
members who were blessed by the life she lived?
I know almost nothing of that life beyond a few brief moments
we shared in the narthex of my childhood church while visiting my mother. The
first time, I was surprised to see her there, since she was not part of the
church when I was growing up.
Reading the names of her children and grandchildren, teary
words of purest gratitude rise unbidden from the center of my soul, praise to
God for a life with which I had but fleeting connection, long ago.
But why such praise and spontaneous emotion? Perhaps
this: She was an unassuming presence, making no demands and offering no
judgments at a time in my life when I felt insecure, uncertain and even more confused
by life than I am now. It was enough for us to exchange greetings, comment on
the class assignment or whatever rumors were buzzing through the hallways.
There is a certain grace in this, moments when it is
enough just to be, free of expectations to be something or someone at a time
when you weren’t sure of who you were … or are … or might or want to be.
I certainly wouldn’t name Diane as having much influence
on the development of who I continue to become. But maybe I should.
There are far more channels of grace, unnoticed streams
of Presence, than the obvious ones we can see and name. Our days are sprinkled
with little moments—incidental, nothing-special, entirely forgotten encounters—that
direct our paths, change our course and shape our hearts in incalculable ways beyond
our awareness.
All of which is to say life is a greater mystery than we imagine,
and God, which is to say the presence of Loving Grace, is woven more deeply among
the twisted threads of our days than our blinkered eyes can see.
But moments come when the heart is grasped by an intuition,
when it knows what the mind cannot teach, and tears offer their silent prayer, moved
by Love’s Living Presence that was always there … unnoticed … in places and
faces that were more important than you ever knew.
No one needs to tell you to be thankful at such a time. For
a beatific presence well beyond you moves you to gratitude for the great
mystery of your life and for the greater mystery of the Love who managed to
find and bless you … even though you were clueless about it at the time.
But when, finally, your heart sees and knows, love flows
as easily as your breath. Just so, Diane, beloved of God, I return the blessing.
May the angels lead you into paradise; may the martyrs
greet you at your arrival and lead you into the holy city, Jerusalem. May the
choir of angels greet you and, like Lazarus, who once was a poor man, may you
have eternal rest.
David L. Miller
