For Wilshire Baptist Church
I awoke Ash Wednesday morning to a text from my mother that said: “March 2, 1962. 60 years ago today” – with a birthday cake emoji. It was a reminder that it was my sister Martha’s birthday. We lost Martha in April 1971 after an Easter week car crash. She was just nine years old. I texted back. “Thanks for the reminder. I’m embarrassed that I probably would have totally forgotten.”
To be fair to myself, I have trouble remembering the birthdays of those who I am no longer able to help celebrate in person — like my sister, my grandparents, my in-laws and my friend Paul. But I can never forget the light they cast — a light not from themselves but a light that shone through them and continues to shine even now.
That light was prominent in our worship this past Sunday. For starters, it was Transfiguration Sunday, the day that Christians recall when Jesus went up on Mount Tabor with three of his disciples and was joined in a brilliant light by Moses and Elijah. It’s a story depicted in a stained-glass window given by my late wife Debra’s family to St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Victoria, Texas. The interesting thing is that window is not located in the sanctuary for all to see; it is in the vestry, a workroom where priests and lay people prepare for mass and communion. It is a place where the work of the church is done quietly and humbly and out of the spotlight.
Also this past Sunday, we sang “I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light.” It’s a favorite hymn of mine because it was a favorite of Debra’s and pretty much sums up her life. The pictures I took at the dedication of that stained-glass window in Victoria include one of Debra and her parents. Seeing the picture again, I’m reminded that all three were models of living and working and serving as children of the light and not the source of their own light.
And now with my mother’s nudge, I’m reminded that Martha was and is a true child of the light. She didn’t live long enough to be corrupted by the darkness of the world; she was pure joyous light. I might have been depressed that her birthday fell on Ash Wednesday this year – a day when we are reminded that we have come from dust and we will return to dust – but I wasn’t. I believe in the light.