Living Well

Cathie went Home this past week. I began missing her as soon as she received the diagnosis. A week before her home-going, she told me how grateful she was for the cancer because it thrust her into the most intimate relationship she’s ever had with Jesus.

Her service couldn't have been more beautiful. It reflected her life and countenance. Aimee and Marci keep a journal of great wedding ideas; I'm beginning a log of great funerals. So far, Cathie's is my only entry. I loved her earthy casket. It appeared to be cedar, fastened with latches like the leaves on our dining room table. I can't think of anyone who loved flowers more than Cathie, yet the log church lacked them. Another good thing. A few trailing vines and roses adorned her casket, but that was it, except for The Hat. Cathie's entire service was out of the box and the model I'd like to use. She designed it all. She must have felt the same way about hearses and limos as I. Her casket was placed in the back of a Suburban and all the family drove their real life cars. The program was a real 8-page booklet and not those insipid quarter sheets the mortuaries are pleased to push. The front is a picture of a radiant Cathie watering flowers. Inside are humble samples of her beautiful writing, and rich Bible verses. As far as I know, she never finished her life story for the eBook. However, it would be cool if she had recorded enough to be of use to at least one seeker. She wrote her own eulogy. I've always despised the reading of those things as they appear in the newspapers. Cathie's fingerprints were all over the eulogy Billy read. When she was two, she ran out daily to meet her dad as he rode in from cowboying. He'd swing her up onto the saddle and let her look inside his saddlebags. He brought her fresh wildflowers every time he rode in the mountains. She loved all of them, but was especially partial to blue flowers. Once Gene learned that, he gathered only blue bouquets. When he arrived home at the end of the day, he'd dismount, scoop up Cathie, and tip his cowboy hat for her to see that it was filled with blue flowers. He placed The Hat of blue flowers on her casket--a man of substance and class.

I’m listening to her tenacity, metal-tested by God’s anvil. She had a history of sacrifice. Her battle scars, formerly prominent, are now kisses of grace. A. W. Tozer once said, “God will never use a man greatly until He has wounded that man deeply.” Cathie’s wounds were deep. Perhaps the most profound, in my opinion, occurred when Dana was killed in the same car wreck that left Laree deaf in one ear and blind in one eye. When Cathie recuperated enough to leave the hospital, she sought the driver who had been high when he ran the stoplight that rainy night. Cathie forgave him. She forgave him! Over the course of several weeks, she shared the grace, love, and forgiveness of Christ with law officers, hospital and rehab staff, the driver and his family, and top/bottom/middle brass at the Air Force Academy. Several were drawn to the irresistible love of Jesus.

Cathie lived well and honored God. Now she's sauntering through eternity with Dana, hand in hand, face to face with Jesus, continuing to live well.