This I Believe

“I believe in the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.”

I’m a pastor. I’ve been ordained for twenty years in the Presbyterian Church USA. My colleagues and I are expected to believe this snippet from the Apostles’ Creed. And I do: not because of anything I have learned from seminary or important theologians, but because of what I have learned from two wonderful women.

Aunt Sissie was the life of the party. Her biscuits were beyond compare. She had a laugh that could fill the room. When she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, she made the choice not to try any heroic treatments, given the prognosis. She chose to be as fully present as possible during her last days with her family. One day towards the end, she began to struggle – so much so that she needed to be restrained. “Something’s happened to Jack,” she said and began to cry.

Jack was my father, her younger brother. He lost his left arm in World War Two, and died about fifteen years before Aunt Sissie. Seeing the two of them together at the kitchen table was a sight to behold. He was the apple of her eye.

“Something’s happened to Jack,” she kept saying. Then, all of a sudden, she stopped fighting and began to beam peacefully, smiling that infectious smile of hers. “Oh,” she said, “He’s okay. I see him. He has both arms, and it’s beautiful.”

I believe in the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

Aunt Lucy was diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukemia. As did her older sister, she too made the conscious decision not to pursue any treatment beyond hospice care. A speech impediment early in life had caused Lucy to be self-conscious and loath to speak in public, even though she had worked through it long ago. She had a heart of gold, could cook like a fiend, and would do anything for anyone – except speak in front of people.

One night my cousin Chris had finally dozed off after a rough time of trying to keep Lucy in bed. Suddenly Chris was awakened by a confident, bold voice: “Ladies and gentlemen!” She sprung up: it was her mother, standing at the end of the bed, posturing and gesturing like an orator, addressing a crowd. “Thank you for being here tonight. I have been diagnosed with leukemia, and I don’t have much longer to live…” She continued on and after a while she said modestly, “Oh, thank you, no applause please…” Chris observed her presentation for quite awhile.

The next morning over coffee, Chris asked her mom if she remembered getting up in the middle of the night to give a speech. “Oh yes,” Lucy emphatically replied. “So who were you talking to, Mom?” “I was talking to The Perfect People.” The Perfect People had gathered in Wimberley, Texas to cheer Lucy on.

I believe in the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.