Betty Dawkins

About a year ago I was doing hospital visitations and met a woman named Betty Dawkins. She was a strong, sweet, African-American lady with kind eyes and a gentle personality. She loved Jesus and cooking. I know because she talked about both of them…a lot.

She described dish after dish in detail. And promised that when she got out of there she would have Leslie and I over to prove that she could do more than talk. It’s hard to say no to someone who should have her own show on the Food Network.

Over the past few months, every time I saw Mrs. Betty she was a quite kind of bubbly. Talking with her I got the impression that she had seen some hard things in her life but she always spoke with a deep joy.

A week and a half ago I heard that Mrs. Betty was in the hospital again. I know this may sound morbid but I really enjoy doing hospital visitation. I don’t enjoy watching people being sick, but there is something about those moments where people to drop all the pretense of being okay and perfect. Plus they are a captive audience.

But Mrs. Betty was the same as she always was. She is just a deeply joy-filled lady. But this day she did say something that I had never heard her say before.

She said that she was tired.

I can only imagine what kind of things has made her so tired. What has she seen? Maybe it was that she lived through the civil rights movement, so it wasn’t long ago that her surrounding culture told her she was somehow less than fully human. Or maybe it was living through the Great Depression. But whatever it was, it was catching up with her and fast.

And then Mrs. Betty had me do something I don’t normally do in the hospital room. She asked me to preach. So at her request I read to her Psalms 27. I told her a story about Heaven, and then I decided to read to her Isaiah 40.

There is a reason that people have historically turned to this passage during tough times. It’s one of the most comforting Scriptures. It even starts off “Comfort, Comfort my people.” But where it really picks up is the end of the chapter. Isaiah tells us that “Even youths grow tired and weary, but those who hope in the Lord will run and not grow weary. They will soar on wings like eagles.”

We ended that little impromptu worship service with a prayer. Mrs. Betty asked me to pray for her to live till November 8th, so she could see her grandson born.

It was a prayer that God said no to.

I wasn’t there Sunday when they announced that Mrs. Betty had died. While cancer was claiming another victim, Leslie and I were out living our busy lives and pretending like life goes on forever. It hit me hard today when I heard. Over the past few months I can count at least 10 different people who I’ve cared about that died. Last month I did two funerals and one of them was for a 11 day old baby.

Death no matter how natural it can seem, is always unnatural. And those of us who still draw breath are left to hope in the Lord.

But not Mrs. Betty.

She is soaring on wings like eagles.