A Widow's Might

From 2 Oct

United in the Passing - Oct 2009

The naked fluorescent tubes hanging from the ceiling here - as they do seemingly everywhere - cast an otherworldly glow on the evening's proceedings. Underneath them, a sea of plastic chairs is slowly filled by arriving guests.

Before they sit, the guests stop by a small side-table where they are welcomed and watched over by members of the church. There they deposit donations in a box, record their name and the amount given in a ledger (accurate records are of utmost importance), and receive a small packet of sweets before proceeding to their seats.

At the front of this gathering space is a photo in a frame surrounded by yellow plastic flowers. The woman in the photo, Mrs. Chang - a pillar of a local congregation who's name has been changed here out of a concern for respectful anonymity - looks out with with eyes that exude a certain quiet strength and confidence.

Behind the faux-flower covered stand and her picture lies her casket.

That morning, after 84 years,

as she was being dressed and readied to go to church,

Mrs. Chang had breathed her final breath.

What struck me most about this scene was the multitude of people moved by the wake of this diminutive woman's passing. Indeed rows of chairs were added as the number of those gathered in remembrance swelled beyond what had been estimated for this widow who had spent the majority of her life living alone - having lost her husband and only daughter many years ago.

From individual stories and collective remembering, a picture of a humble woman and deep faith began to emerge. Whether it was in her regular polishing of the brass candlesticks, constant presence in the old church compound, or financial contributions, she was a woman who, as the pastor observed, not unlike the widow in Mark and Luke, truly gave everything she had to the God in whom she believed and the community of faith that had truly become her family.

In her passing too, many observed, she gave a final gift. Sitting there, shoulder to shoulder under the blue-glow of the fluorescent light, two halves of a congregation that in recent years had split were united as one -momentarily- in the act of remembering their beloved daughter, sister, and friend.

It was a moment of grace and a sight to behold.