Our old friend Willie finished well a couple of days ago.
He came to the healing and refreshing service on Sunday
afternoon, and enjoyed the peace of God that was tangible during that hour. He
was telling me about his upcoming heart operation in a few weeks in London, and
how his plan was to recuperate and climb the local hill, Scolty, next summer. I
said I’d go with him, and I’m sure a lot of his friends would have.
He celebrated his 91st birthday on Tuesday with
his family. And in the night, he slipped away. Quietly, peacefully.
He certainly never let age nor increasing decrepitude hold
him back. Even in these last few weeks he was often to be found with his hands
plunged in dishwater after a congregational lunch or coffee time. He was a
faithful befriender and visitor of those still shut in. He helped serve lunch
every Saturday at one of the care homes. He worked tirelessly on behalf of
Alzheimer’s sufferers and their carers. He did it all with a smile and a
self-deprecating laugh.
Lord, may I finish my race as well as Willie did. He was a true inspiration.
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