Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants. —Psalm 116:15
That smile. I will never forget that smile.
The first time I met Sally, I was in the 11th grade at Foss High School in Tacoma, Washington. Two of her daughters went to this same school and she and her husband, Ben, were there in the circular drive, picking them up after classes one Spring day.
All I remember of that first meeting was running up to their car to tell Erin and her sister Elisa, “Good bye.” And there it was: that smile.
That smile of Sally’s that said, “Hello! What a pleasure to meet you!” There were no words. Just a smile. But her whole face—eyes and all—beamed genuine affection for you. Little did I know that I would be encouraged by that smile for nearly 50 years.
Sally often reminded me of that first time we met. Much later she told me that after they drove away, Ben, the girls’ father said, “He seems like a nice boy. What’s his name?”
“Him?” Erin said, “Oh, that’s just Bill. He’s a friend.”
Obviously I hadn’t made much of an impression…
A few years later, in our college years, Erin would often come to mind. She was going to school in LA and I was doing the same in Seattle, but we were separated by 1000+ miles…and I couldn’t get her off my mind.
Erin came home from school one summer and, through a number of circumstances, she and I began dating. After a short time together, Sally asked if she and I could go out to get a Coke (it was always Coke—Sally loves Coca Cola).
We got our cokes, and as we sat in the dining area of the Arctic Circle on 38th Street, she began to ask me about my intentions for Erin. (!) We had a wonderfully awkward meeting: she, watchful and observant for her daughter, and I open and eager to learn all I could for a relationship that would go the distance.
She was a tireless advocate for faithfulness: first to Jesus, then to family, then to others—pretty much in that order. Although some friends had invited me to church with them in the 8th grade—where I began following Jesus—Sally and Ben became the spiritual parents that I never had and imbued a Christocentric view of life in the mind of this wild child.
We’ve all heard the jokes aimed at mother-in-laws. But after Erin and I were married, these jokes seemed irrelevant—the product of bitter minds. I never thought of her as my “mother-in-law.” I nicknamed her my “mother-in-love”—and that is who she is.
Over the years I continued to be the recipient of Sally and Ben’s love, support and prayers. Their enormously generous gift of love and advice always went above and beyond.
Some years ago she was diagnosed with blood cancer and began to visibly slow down. Her love and allegiance for family came full circle when their oldest child, Elisa, brought them into her home. Their youngest daughter Julie and her husband Tom lived only across the street and so, between the two homes, they cared for her until last Friday, when she took her final breath and walked on strong legs through gates of splendor.
What a relief it must have been for her! Suddenly the heaviness of her legs, the pain that stymied any mobility and her hardness of hearing all dissolved away, as she now heard the sounds of heaven, walking effortlessly into the very presence of the One she loved, served and adored her whole life.
One of her granddaughters had snuggled next to Sally only moments before this and sang these words to her:
“Jesus loves me, this I know,
For the Bible tells me so
Little ones to Him belong
They are weak but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
The Bible tells me so.”
And with this song in her ears, and his name on her mind, she entered into Jesus’ presence. Face to face. I can only imagine those who were waiting there to greet her homecoming. Her family, sisters, brothers, parents—and perhaps those who had gone on before us who were like family to her.
But one thing I know that is certain, she experienced the joy of the words that make life worth the journey: “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter the joy of your master.”
In the aftermath of all this, I ask myself, “How can I feel so sad, yet be so happy for her? What is this mixture of bittersweet that comes in waves over our minds and fills our eyes? Bitter because we won’t see her again—in this life. But sweet knowing that she is no longer in pain and is with those who love and cherish her as well.”
So, until the day I see that smile again, we will cheer her from this side: “Well done, faithful Nana, well done. Enjoy the reward of your Master.”
Bill Herried is a pastor at CenterPoint Church in Tacoma, Washington and is married to the most extraordinary woman on the planet. Together they have 3 adult children and 4 grandchildren. He has been the lead pastor at CenterPoint Christian Fellowship in Tacoma since 2006. He has an undergraduate degree from the University of Washington in Seattle, and Master of Divinity from Corban University in Salem, Oregon—and he loves a good biryani.
Personal photo from Holy Land tour, Garden of Gethsemane
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