These are words that have inspired Christians for 2000 years. In 1990, they inspired Cathy and Mark, who chose them as the gospel reading for their wedding. And now, today, they inspire us as we come together in love to celebrate Cathy’s extraordinary life, and entrust her to God arms.
Cathy
most certainly was, and still is, a bright light in a world that sometimes can
seem very dark. And like the light that Jesus called her and us all to be, Cathy
shone not to exalt or draw attention to herself, but to give life and hope to
others—to her family and friends, to her patients, and to many she helped but
never met.
Cathy
understood, probably better than most, that we need to summon the strength and
the courage to embrace each day and each moment (and sometimes wrestle with each
day and moment), to wring every drop of life from the time, the relationships and
the abundant gifts we have been given. Cathy understood that if we are to be
lights to the world, whatever our challenges, we can’t stay hidden away, in a
room or under a bushel basket as Jesus says, but rather out and alive, burning
brightly for others to see.
Of
the many stories that Mark, Mary, and Alice shared with me, a few stand out as
being the epitome of Cathy. The first, is how Mark and Cathy met—their first
day in grad school, back in 1984, standing in line waiting to register. That
night they went on a double date to a disco kind of place. Mark asked Cathy if
she wanted to dance. Only she said, “I don’t dance.” So, Mark asked if she
wanted a drink. Only she said, “I don’t drink beer.” Then he said, “You don’t
have much fun, do you?” Not the successful first date.
In
fact, they got in a fight and didn’t see or talk to each other for several
months. Until they realized that for them there were no better matches out
there. Whatever spark they felt in that first meeting was still there. So,
thankfully, they tried again. Anyone who knew Cathy, even later in life, can recognize
her in that story. She could be stormy and opinionated. She had strong feelings
about, well, practically everything. And she had a spark, a light, that shone
in the darkness.
When
I asked Mark what he might say about Cathy’s impact on him, he thought for a
while and then shared this: “what I admired the most about Cathy was her strong
will. She is one of the few people who have been consistently able to stand up
to me and get me to change my mind or do something I didn’t originally want to…
especially when we disagreed about matters she felt were important. She stood
her ground.” And then he added, “By being her partner and supporting her I
could help the world (animals, children, the poor, the needy, promote cruelty
free cosmetics, recycling, condemn mean spirited politics, etc.)…. Being her
husband made me a better, more complete person.” That’s quite the testimony.
Quite the legacy. Quite the light.
Mary
and Alice, I think it’s hard for children, of any age, to know how much your
mom loves you. How devoted she was to you. Even before she met you. I don’t
think any daughters could possibly be more cherished and valued than you have been.
Your mom and dad traveled across the world to find you, to meet you, and give
you a home—not only here in Massachusetts, but most importantly in their hearts,
in your mom’s heart. Mary, from a video sent from Russia, you enchanted your
parents with your personality. And Alice, you started out undernourished, and
look at you now. Look at both of you now—so beautiful, so stylish and poised, with
so much life ahead of you.
I
was so deeply moved to hear how Mary, your first morning with your mom, in St.
Petersburg, was Mother’s Day. She awoke that Mother’s Day as a mom, for the
first time. And the last day you both shared with her was also Mother’s Day—a
visit she awaited with such anticipation. She didn’t want you to see how sick
she was. But she did want you to know how much she loved you, and loves you
still. You were the lights in your mother’s life. The brightest stars in her sky.
She didn’t have as much time with you as she would have wanted, but she
certainly prepared you for your own lives—so that you, too, can be lights to
the world. Allow her to shine through you. If you live like she lived, if you
love like she loved, if you care like she cared, you mom’s legacy will be long
and bright. So very bright, just like you.
We
shouldn’t forget that Cathy was also a person of deep faith. Church was
important to her. This church. Where she worshipped and raised her girls. Over
the past decade she organized the acolytes (not an easy job sometimes—but two
of her acolyte alumni, John and Ian, are serving with us today, a testament to
her ministry). She participated in weekly adult education sessions—sometimes arguing
with me about theological topics, and sold plants and flowers to support
refugees. She organized a yard sale which raised over $2000 to support the
people of Syria in the most war-torn area of the world. And most recently, she
was deeply concerned about the plight of immigrants at the border.
Cathy’s
faith shaped her worldview. It also, I think, gave her courage as she lived
with her complex health. Each week we quietly prayed for healing as she came to
the rail for Communion. And while her lupus wasn’t cured through those prayers,
she was strengthened to meet each new day. Firm, I think, in the knowledge that
her life was always in God’s hands—the same God who created her and lit that
spark of life in her soul.
And
just as Cathy came here each week in faith, so we come today. In faith and
trust. Firm in the belief, and not just belief, but the knowledge, that Cathy’s
lives still. That she is still in God’s hands. And even more, she alive now,
and forever, at the center of God’s heart. Waiting for us, of course, for that
time when we are reunited. And in the meantime, she is there encouraging us,
inspiring us, to continue her work and share in her passions and convictions:
for children and refugees, immigrants and victims of war. For animals and our
fragile, broken and beautiful earth. For all those who have no one to defend
them. All this from her place at the center of God’s heart.
All
goodbyes are hard. And this one especially. Cathy was too young. Her family, depended
on her too much. Her friends and her church, too. I miss her. I miss her smile.
Her laugh. Her honest and unvarnished opinions. But most especially her caring.
Her deep love for everyone, and her passion for justice. She leaves a whole in
our hearts. And yet, we know through the example of her life and her faith, her
strength and fortitude, that she would want us all to live. That she would want
us, like her, to wring every drop of life we can out of the time we have. Enjoying
music and the Jersey shore. Loving our families and friends. Caring for the
earth and its people. Trusting in the promises of God. Promises that for Cathy
are fulfilled.
Jesus
said, “You are the light of the world… Let your light shine before others, so that
they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” Cathy
answered that call. She lived it. And now, today, from God’s heart, she shines
through us, so that we too might bring light to others. Let’s do exactly that.
Let’s make her proud and shine a light of hope in the world that is very dark.
To
God be the glory: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
©
The Rev. Matthew P. Cadwell, PhD
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