Remembering Shirley

She's a bit of a spit fire and you're never sure when you see her whether it is 'safe' to say hello. She'll either tell you to have a great day or tear a strip off you for some perceived injustice. She has a little cubby that she keeps a chair in, just down the street from our church office, the entry to one of the fellowship centers here in town. She isn't allowed to smoke inside so you can often find her there, just watching the street traffic go by. That or the bench on the main street just across from Timmys.
She loves to complain about the food at the Gospel mission and has stories of green wieners and gross combinations of ingredients that make you wonder if you should believe her or shrug it off as 'sour grapes'. We gave her a job to do at Street Church on Sunday nights, bagging cookies. You're in trouble big time if you try to help her with it. She's so offended! The pastor reminds her to be nice to our volunteers. She loves him so usually listens and doesn't back talk him too much. btw, according to Shirley the band at Street Church sucked, unless he was leading it. Then you would find her dancing and maybe lifting her hands in the air once in a while.
We didn't know too much about her background. She was a fixture on our streets for so long that few really questioned how she had got there. She walked her cat on a leash because she was afraid that he would run out on the busy street just feet from her front door. She loved her cat more than anything else.
I don't know what Shirley's understanding of God was. She was perplexed by the politics of churches, and probably hurt more by that than we know. I spoke to her one day about a prognosis that she had received from the doctor. She need surgery and was afraid. After years of being independent it was hard for her to depend on the strength and love of a God that she could not see. Sometimes we weren't a very good example of faith for her. To say to her that God would take care of her was to make light of the past experiences she had had of God's supposed care. Her concerns were valid based upon her past experience.
She got very mad at me one New Year's Eve for wearing black. Telling me quite loudly that I should never wear black, that I should be wearing lots of color, but never black. It's difficult not to be offended by that, but that's Shirley, she'll always say what she means.
Shirley passed away four weeks ago. Her funeral is tomorrow. A celebration, not necessarily of a life well lived, but more of an eternal life now enjoyed. It is my belief that she is partying with the band in heaven, and enjoying the banquet table there. And more than likely still smoking up a storm.

I won't be wearing black.

Until we meet again.