Last November I wrote about my friend’s 103rd birthday. Sadly, she didn’t make it to 104, and we celebrated her life of joy and gratitude last Thursday at my church. She selected the story of the prodigal son as the scripture for her service; she was someone who had known alienation and reunion. At the end of her life though, colourful helium balloons decorated a sanctuary filled with hugs and forgiveness. Over 103 years she had learned to celebrate love when you see it and never let it slip from your grasp.
Here’s how I know:
A few years ago, a new couple started coming to our church. They were typical in that they hadn’t been actively involved in church for some time, and they had all kinds of wary misconceptions about what “church” would be. But they wanted to get married, so they sought a faith community that fit their progressive theology.
They quickly became a cherished part of our congregation. One of them helped with our decor and planned fun activities; the other joined our church council. Their love for each other was obvious to all around: true and timeless. When they got married, members of our congregation filled the pews to support them and cry tears of joy as they exchanged vows.
On a Sunday morning not long after their wedding, my friend—a mere 99 years old then—made her way into the coffee room with the help of a walker. She saw one of the newlyweds and told a friend that she would like to speak with him. He walked over and sat beside her. She reached out a hand to his and said, “I am so glad that you are here with us, and I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding.”
He thanked her and went to share what she had said with his husband. They are a same-sex couple who married in our sanctuary.
Some people might think that older people have old-fashioned ideas that can’t be changed. But what my friend learned in her 103 years of life is this: