My friend Lamoine went to heaven today . . . 32 days from when she was told she had Stage 4 cancer. What a lady! Some of her friends called her their "First Lady."
This is what I wrote to her after I learned of her illness.
Lamoine,
I am proud to call you my
friend, but you are so much more to me.
Although, you have not been close to me in proximity the last few years,
you are always close in my heart. You
are a Christian sister, a role model, and a mentor.
I see you, as I write, in your
khaki slacks, a button-down shirt neatly tucked in, hair permed and styled, and
a ready smile. You have had your
oatmeal, you have made a list and checked in twice (in your mind) and you are
ready to make a difference to every one you meet this day, first the children
you love to teach, but also the adults you will encounter.
Now, you are sitting with a
group of colleagues. I hear your quiet,
slow drawl. The conversation takes an
argumentative direction or, perhaps, one of gossip. You, Lamoine, sit quietly and your silence
speaks volumes to me. I learn that I do
not always have to defend my friends or my Lord with my mouth. My character matters more.
I observe you as you are
sitting at a table (so many evenings) taking money at a ballgame. I become
aware that you are there to meet and greet and perhaps be a positive influence
for the Lord. You once told me, “I told
Ed I would get them to church and he could preach the Word.”
I hear you talking about your
sons Doug and Phil, their families, your grandchild Paige, and the others that
followed. You love your family and
grandchildren with a sacrificial love.
I see you in a hotel room we
shared when attending a conference, meticulously checking your clothing in the
mirror. I smile broadly as I recall the
story you told me about once getting in the car to go to church. That’s when Ed asked you if you were going to
go in your slip. Yes, even my friend Lamoine
“got in a hurry” at times.
Still in the hotel room, I
remember the coffee you delivered to me in bed when you learned the night
before that my husband woke me that way every morning. Definitely not a morning person myself, I was
so amazed that you would do this for me.
I reflect upon the great lady
you are and I am again smiling at the stories you told me about your family
heritage, the doctor, the land, the farmer, and I chuckle again. You were your daddy’s “boy” on the farm. You adapted so well from being a “tomboy” to
a pastor’s wife.
Now, I see you in technology
workshops, always the learner and the teacher.
After persevering to learn everything you could about the computer, you
taught others. I distinctly remember you
teaching me about the digital camera . . . taking, cropping, and arranging
pictures into a slide show. You told me
how you made a family slide show with music.
I also remember our technology teacher saying, “If Lamoine can learn
this, the rest of you can,” since you were one of the oldest in the camp.
There’s my friend LaMoine
again, with a colleague, presenting a workshop to parents on the subject she
loved, READING. You are passing around a
box of chocolates saying something like this, “Good books are like
chocolate. They look different on the
outside, but they have great surprises on the inside.” That presentation should have been taken on
the road.
Aha! There you are wearing the teacher of the year
vest from Walmart. How proudly you
represent our school and teachers everywhere.
How proud we are of you!!
You are a lady in your dress,
demeanor, and your character. You represent your savior, your family, your
husband, your church, your friends, your home, and your community with dignity
and honor.
“I thank my God upon every
remembrance of you. Phil. 1:3”
You are my dear and beloved
friend.
Rose
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