“Praise the Lord Anyhow”

Jean and I worked together.  She was secretary, bookkeeper, receptionist, and Girl-Friday.  Bright and cheerful.  Hard-working and creative.  Enthusiastic, quick to laugh, a team player, and totally forgiving of my shortcomings as a boss.  She was the heartbeat of our office.

She had this habit of taking in stray kittens – of the student kind.  It was commonplace to see her ensconced in her cubby with a teenage girl, providing whatever was needed at the time – a Kleenex, a shoulder, a hug, a dollar for a cup of tater tots, or just some good-old, down-home, earth-mother advice.  She also had this habit of saying, “Praise the Lord anyhow.”  All day long!  In any situations, good or bad!

The state of my spiritual life at that time was dormant.  Raised on church and schooled on Sunday clear through high school, in college — and for several years after — I had put it on the shelf.  Frankly, the daylong mantra of this hard-core, church-going Christian woman was rather annoying.

However, as the story of her life unfolded before me, I was amazed at her ability to stay upbeat, because most people in her circumstances would have crumbled.  She had this inner strength that kept her coming back disaster upon disaster.  Her kindness and compassion for others in the face of Job-like challenges was simply astounding.  When asked about it, she cheerfully replied, “I just praise the Lord anyhow.”  I got over my initial annoyance because whatever she was leaning on was obviously reliable.      

Her husband died tragically at a young age and left her with two preteen daughters, which brought her back into the workplace and into my life.  Then she met and later married this fellow who was the father of three girls, so again she went home, and for good.  So sad to lose her as a colleague, I was happy for her and her new life.

Over the years we bumped into each other or called each other from time to time, and some of those years have been tough on her.  Yet whenever we spoke, she had this peaceful and positive attitude; and she has never abandoned her Source.  She has always managed to praise the Lord anyhow.   

When she remarried and became the mother of five girls, she longed for another baby.  She wanted his, hers and theirs.  Soon enough she and her husband were blessed with a bouncing baby boy.  You can imagine how that kid was loved on, fussed over, and fought over with five doting older sister-mommies, right up until he was two years old and they found him face down in the neighbor’s pool.

All day and all night and for the next two years they fought to keep him alive.  There were tubes and shunts and surgeries.  There were clinics, ER’s, IV’s, and hospital beds from here to Philadelphia.  All the other two and three and four-year-olds went to pre-school and played in the sandbox; but John-John’s playground had green walls, and his playmates wore masks and scut-clothes and poked him with needles.

This saga was faithfully chronicled in the local press, and the community sent checks and made sandwiches and prayed and wept over the story of this brave little guy.  He had good days and bad.  He had victories and just as many defeats.  Eventually his little body could take it no more, and he died at the age of four.  The time and money that went into that vigil took its toll.  Their marriage did not survive.

Not long after, an electrical short caused a fire that did thousands of dollars in damage to her house.  How could a person take it?

We met up at a restaurant for lunch.

“How are you?”

Instead of the pain and rancor of divorce, she talked about the personal and spiritual growth in her life.  Instead of complaining about the smoke and the ashes, she spoke with delight about new carpeting and drapes and flooring.  Although she couldn’t hold back the tears over the loss of her child, she spoke of the outpouring from God and the church and neighbors and a village of strangers who had read of her plight and reached out to her with generosity and comfort.    

She had to leave because she had a date.  I wondered if she was still in the business of taking home stray kittens of the human kind.  Would someone take advantage of the enormity of her heart?  Would she suffer additional heartache?  If so, she would wear her pain with grace and continue to do what she had always done.  As she skipped away, she turned and said cheerfully, “Praise the Lord anyhow.”

My annoyance had turned to acceptance, and to admiration, and to emulation.  Jean was a key player — one of the people who paved the way for my re-entry into life of faith.  She found joy in the midst of turmoil and tragedy.  She always demonstrated an important Biblical principle that is expounded in the first chapter of the Book of James.  No matter the hardship, no matter the news, no matter the inconvenience, no matter the loss, no matter the cancer, no matter the circumstance!  Each one is an opportunity to grow in empathy for the pain of others and to grow in the knowledge of God.