It’s always been interesting how, in very important circumstances, where much is said and felt, there can be one small thing that is said, sometimes seemingly off-handedly.
And that small thing that you hear is the thing that stays with you, and can sometimes come to represent the entire significant situation.
Today as we celebrate the life of Judy Boudreaux, I’ve thought back over the many conversations I’ve hadwith her husband Joe, chats that literally always included the topic of Judy in some capacity.
Following Judy’s passing about five weeks ago I’ve continued my visits, and the conversations continue to include his beloved partner of over 60 years.
In these last weeks it’s no surprise that sadness has its place in the room with us. Joe’s gentle grace is ever present, but the quiet cloak of grief is there now as well, and he alludes to it in his quietly dignified way.
One day not long after Judy’s passing, Joe said something that, while seemingly not monumental, immediately left an impression on me then, and has since.
In typical Joe-style, it wasn’t a wordy monologue, not something likely to emerge from a poet’s pen.
It was just 5 simple words. “She didn’t have to go.”
His meaning was clear…she didn’t have to die. Her death could’ve been avoided, at least for a while longer. It could’ve been avoided, had she just continued to eat.
If you know about the disease Judy had, you know that food intake often ends up being difficult. But tell that to a grieving heart who just wanted a little more time with his beloved.
That’s not entirely unheard of what a loved one passes.
What was noteworthy about it was the long, hard road that Joe had been on for years as he watched a part of Judy be taken by her illness.
Along with the emotional toll this takes, there are monetary and other pragmatic concerns that often accompany a prolonged illness like Judy’s.
Despite the steepness of this years-long trek that would tire the hardiest of souls, leading them understandably to some sense of relief when the trek reaches its conclusion, Joe wanted more time.
“She didn’t have to go. If only she could’ve kept eating.”
In my wordier version, he essentially said, “Despite the unrequested pruning that took part of you away, I want you here, not there. Despite the challenges that have come, I want you with me.”
This is what love looks like.
As we heard in our lighting of the Advent candles, today is our love day. In the four Sundays of Advent Mother Nature has seen fit for us to be a bit separated physically. Our days of Peace and Joy were snatched from us, and our day of Hope was appropriately enveloped in the hurrah of home…our new home.
And that leaves love.
It’s probably not heavenly happenstance that we’ve ended up celebrating Judy’s life on the day of love (in the Advent season, that is).
Our Advent season has been…well, elusive.
November 30, week one – the week of Peace – was cancelled.
December 7, week two, the week of Hope, was celebrated, but Advent’s hope was overshadowed by other details (namely, the first Sunday in our new home).
December 14, week three, the week of Joy – also cancelled.
And now, December 21, the fourth and final week, is the week of love. The angels probably cajoled Mother Nature into her antics last week so that Love Week could be Judy’s.
And it probably aligns for Joe too. As things have unfolded for Joe where his beloved Judy is concerned, peace and joy have been tough at times. Hope has been there, but impacted by the details.
Not for one moment, however, has love needed to be rescheduled.
Love has been a constant since Joe, as a sixth grader, sent one particular fifth-grader a valentine that said “I love you, and he never looked back.
In a moment we’ll see that combined 5th and 6th grade class picture, among others.
For now, let us hear a verbal snapshot of Judy’s life.
Judy was born on September 1, 1939, in Cincinnati, OH to Charles Dean and Anna Elizabeth Westfall Dean.
She attended Southern Methodist University where she studied English, French, and biology. After admission to their Honor Society, Judy went on to earn three advanced degrees.
From Friends University in Wichita she earned a Master of Science in Employee Assistance. From Wichita State University she earned a Master of Arts in English and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing.
Judy put her education to good use as she wrote short stories and poems (two of which we’ve heard today), and a 3-act comedy. More than once her work was published in the Journal of the American Medical Association.
Even more than creativity, Judy knew about devotion. The creative side of her spirit was woven into her roles as a devoted wife, parent, and grandparent.
She was 23 when she married her childhood sweetheart. A couple of years later Judy and Joe had their first child Charles, and a couple of years after that they had their second child Elisabeth.
We will hear some stories from their first-born in a bit.
But now I share with you the words of Thich Nhat Hanh.
Tomorrow, I will continue to be. But you will have to be very attentive to see me. I will be a flower or a leaf. I will be in these forms and I will say hello to you. If you are attentive enough you will recognize me, and you may greet me. I will be very happy.
Yes, tomorrow. And the day after that, and after that.
But for today, for now, let’s enjoy some images of Judy as we knew her…
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