It's been five months now. I think often of Mrs. Bixby and of the family and friends that she left behind. Sometimes my thoughts are sorrowful, but sometimes they are happy. I remember vaguely the first few times I saw her when I was five years old. I remember watching her all of the time. She was so sweet and so funny! I decided that I wanted to be exactly like her when I grew up. I even wrote her a letter telling her so.
We were working on our Christmas play one year when she asked if she could speak with me privately. I was a little scared that I was doing something wrong, but I talked to her after our practice. She told me that a lot of the younger kids were watching me and that it was important for me to set a good example. It was one of the first "Do Hard Things" messages I ever heard. I was annoyed with one of the other people in the play and I guess it was showing. I did my best to take to heart what she said and change my attitude. I really appreciated the fact that even though she was a grown-up and I was just a kid, she talked to me as if we were on the same level. She didn't just yell at me or threaten me or anything.
Our church used to have a monthly get-together where everyone brought projects to the church and worked on them all day. Many of the ladies sewed quilts and such. Some people brought art projects. A lot of the time us kids just played outside all day or played board games, but sometimes I would bring a project, too. It made me feel special when Mrs. Bixby would take time to look at what I was doing. She was always an encouragement. Always.
I don't want to make this blog post too long by telling every story of how I learned something from Mrs. Bixby or how I was blessed or encouraged by her. So I'll start wrapping up.
I was absolutely thrilled when my mom told me that a couple of the Bixby kids were coming over and were going to stay the night. I love each of them so very much! But then my mom told me WHY the kids were coming over. Mrs. Bixby had just found out that she had cancer and was going to see a doctor. My mind immediately went to stories like Dana's Valley and The Healer. Beautiful young women who got sick and eventually died. But those were stories. This was real life. In real life people don't have to die in order to make a difference, right?!
That was the question I asked God continually. For awhile I was pretty sure that I was right. She would be sick. She'd be in the hospital. The doctors and nurses would come to know Christ. She would get better. It was a perfect story of hope and God's love!
But that story was *my* version of 'perfect', not God's. As that became apparent, I struggled with it. I still struggle with it sometimes. You know, we get tired sometimes of toddlers asking "why?" at every turn... but I think we do that to God a lot. "Why her, God?" "Why now, God?" "Why like this, God?"
Mrs. Bixby's joy in going into her Savior's arms will stay with me for the rest of my life. It's yet another aspect in which I wish to be like her: to be so Heaven-focused even when there's so much to love here on earth. And someday when I get to Heaven, the "why's" from down here won't matter any more. I'll stand near her at the feet of our Father and I'll join her in singing Everlasting Praise.
[Amy Caldwell Bixby was my Pastor's wife while I lived in Steamboat Springs. She first sang in Heaven after her fight with breast cancer ended on August 19, 2011.]
so, so beautiful
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