Board of Directors
It was almost twenty years ago now and I don’t even remember who the speaker was, but I was sitting in a crowd of people from all over the world on opening weekend, my very first year over seas. The speaker was challenging us to find our own personal Board of Directors to help guide us through life. He said we needed people from different stages of life: some who walked behind us that we could encourage on, and some right beside us, and lastly some that were ahead of us in their journeys that could be a becon of light to us. As I sat thinking through the people in my life who might be on my Board of Directors I knew that as long as I was willing she would be one of my advisors... For the rest of her life she was.
Just a few days before I got on the plane she told me she prayed for me every single day. Over the years she would remind me that she was still praying. When life was hard I knew that I always had her standing before Jesus on my behalf. I shared with her always my greatest joys and my deepest sorrows. It was a gift that I cherished and will continue to cherish, but she gave even more to me.
She believed in me. We disagreed on things, but she always loved me through them, and often it turned out that she was right. Then there were times when others thought I might have lost my mind that she encouraged me to keep going. When I decided to become a missionary at the age of twenty others said, “ You need to finish school. Or at least come home and work for a bit to save money. You need more time to think about this. You’re wasting your life”. She, however, said, “I can’t give you much but I can give you my prayers and $20 a month. This is where you need to be.” Even back then when an ocean separated us we would write each other and she would send care packages with Lindt chocolates.
When I moved back home her prayers and love didn’t stop for me. She listened and celebrated as found my place in the world as a wife and mother. I could safely vent about my frustrations toward all of it without judgement or useless pats on the head from her. Most times she would just listen, but the follow up conversation would include something like, “I thought that might be how it turned out for you... Good that’s how I’ve been praying for you.”
Now that she’s gone I’m realizing some other ways she helped shape me. We first met when I was just a kid, she watched me grow up, living one street down from us, her son and I only a grade apart. Her door was always open not just to me but to anybody. She was always cooking and preparing to feed people, and she always had a room for whoever needed it. The life she lived is the kind of life I want to be remembered for. My most favorite way to love is through food. My biggest want in any house we live in is that I have a guest room ready for company. And I love it when people randomly stop in for a visit.
As I prepare myself to sit in a room with all the people she loved I am thankful that I had the privilege of being one of hers. In this moment I feel a bit lonely and maybe even slightly lost as this is the kind of situation where I would have called her. Even so as time moves forward I hope I can continue to follow her example. I hope that some day some adventurous, opinionated girl finds me worthy enough to assign to her “Board of Directors” just as she was on mine.
She believed in me. We disagreed on things, but she always loved me through them, and often it turned out that she was right. Then there were times when others thought I might have lost my mind that she encouraged me to keep going. When I decided to become a missionary at the age of twenty others said, “ You need to finish school. Or at least come home and work for a bit to save money. You need more time to think about this. You’re wasting your life”. She, however, said, “I can’t give you much but I can give you my prayers and $20 a month. This is where you need to be.” Even back then when an ocean separated us we would write each other and she would send care packages with Lindt chocolates.
When I moved back home her prayers and love didn’t stop for me. She listened and celebrated as found my place in the world as a wife and mother. I could safely vent about my frustrations toward all of it without judgement or useless pats on the head from her. Most times she would just listen, but the follow up conversation would include something like, “I thought that might be how it turned out for you... Good that’s how I’ve been praying for you.”
Now that she’s gone I’m realizing some other ways she helped shape me. We first met when I was just a kid, she watched me grow up, living one street down from us, her son and I only a grade apart. Her door was always open not just to me but to anybody. She was always cooking and preparing to feed people, and she always had a room for whoever needed it. The life she lived is the kind of life I want to be remembered for. My most favorite way to love is through food. My biggest want in any house we live in is that I have a guest room ready for company. And I love it when people randomly stop in for a visit.
As I prepare myself to sit in a room with all the people she loved I am thankful that I had the privilege of being one of hers. In this moment I feel a bit lonely and maybe even slightly lost as this is the kind of situation where I would have called her. Even so as time moves forward I hope I can continue to follow her example. I hope that some day some adventurous, opinionated girl finds me worthy enough to assign to her “Board of Directors” just as she was on mine.
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