Monday, December 17, 2018

An Unassuming Life

It's with great sadness that this holiday season embarks upon my soul. And it isn't just because Dean, my husband of 42 years, is not with us this time, presiding over the gift-opening ceremonies in his Santa hat and with his cheery ho-ho-ho's.

I am also saddened not to receive my first Christmas card of the year, which for almost all those 42 years came from a college friend of mine, Joe Branson.

Joe revealed once to me, on one of the few phone conversations I had with him, that he mailed out way over a hundred cards every year to his friends. And they usually came almost right after Thanksgiving, as if he couldn't wait for these bright, glittery greetings to grace our mailboxes and set our spirits in the holiday, gift-giving mode every year.

Here it is, almost half of December gone now, and no card from Joe. I was justifiably anxious about it after talking to another college friend of mine (Sharon Titus Harrell) and discovered she had not received her customary card either. She too was suspicious that something was not right in Joe's world.

With very little internet searching, Sharon was able to find an obituary about him in a small town newspaper, his hometown of Pulaski, Virginia.

It was not what we were hoping to find; but there he was, with a photo to verify the news. In his obituary, it was stated that he was the last surviving member of his immediate family. The comments under the obituary revealed that some of his few, remaining relatives had regrettably not even received the news until this obituary was seen.

How lonely Joe's life was at the end can only be imagined. He was only 67 years old, died unexpectedly in his home, the obit said. He had recently retired from almost thirty years of elementary teaching, but the last card I received from him told how he was conducting a prison ministry through the mail and was writing to many, many inmates.

Joe's death may have gone unnoticed, but his life and influence surely encircled thousands of young children and God-thirsty adults on the verge of despair. Yes, Joe will not be lonely in the resurrection. His voice will likely be the first one raised in worshipful praise to our Creator God in heaven, prompting all his friends and loved ones to join him in song, just as he diligently prompted us to begin our gift-giving preparations for the Christmas season every year here on earth.

This thought has lifted my saddened heart and will enable me to continue my holiday with joy.

Joe would want it that way.







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