Multiple people in Columbia have mentioned to me lately that they’ve been spending a lot of time going to funerals. That certainly seems to be the case. My wife and I attended two in the past week.
The first was for Amelia Magee Rogers, wife of C-P Managing Editor Mark Rogers. Many of you knew Amelia much better than me, but I’ll share a couple of stories from the few months that I was privileged to be around her.
When I first moved to Columbia this summer, I was commuting back and forth from North Mississippi before I left my old job for good, found a place to stay and my family could move down. It was a stressful time. Amelia and Mark invited me to eat one evening with them at Azteca. It was a simple gesture, something that all of us could do, but it meant a lot to me.
And then a few weeks later there was a welcome reception for new Columbia Superintendent of Schools Jason Harris. The Marion County Development Partnership building was overflowing. I was brand-new in town myself and didn’t know anyone. Mark was taking pictures for the paper, and Amelia took me around and introduced me to people. It helped because she knew just about everybody, and as anyone who knew Amelia could attest, she was certainly not shy about talking to people. It was a nice thing to do that I wish I could go back and thank her for.
Dr. Bryant Barnes, in his excellent eulogy at Amelia’s service, reminded us that we all can learn from Amelia’s example and take it to be better people ourselves. That certainly hit home for me. I, and most of us probably, could do better at thinking about others and how we can help them.
The second funeral was for the father of a family friend. It was held at the Archibald (La.) Church of Christ, a country congregation surrounded by cotton fields. The deceased, David Shiers, had struggled with the terrible effects of Parkinson’s disease for many years; it was time for the 75-year-old to find rest.
But he, too, left an example to follow. By profession, David was a bridge inspector for the state of Louisiana, but he also preached for many years at the same time, mostly for smaller congregations. He didn’t do it because he needed a job, but because he really cared about people’s souls.
I’ll never forget sitting in the pew one evening as we sang, “I Don’t Know About Tomorrow.” Behind me I heard a voice, weak but distinct, singing, “Many things about tomorrow, I don’t seem to understand. But I know who holds tomorrow, and I know who holds my hand.”
It was David.
He was in a nursing home by that time, but they would get him out in his wheelchair on Sunday nights so he could worship.
The next day David knew he wouldn’t be doing much of anything he wanted. He wouldn’t be home with his family; he wouldn’t be out interacting with people, which he loved, and he wouldn’t be able to do so much as stand up and walk across the room. He couldn’t even be sure he’d still be alive. Parkinson’s had taken all those things from him, yet it could not touch his faith. He was able to declare with confidence that he knew tomorrow God would be in control.
Lord, give us a such a faith as this.
Charlie Smith is editor/publisher of The Columbian-Progress. Reach him at csmith@columbianprogress.com.
