Ann Powell, age 92, died last week and for the past several days, every time I think of her, it puts a smile on my face.
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On Tuesdays she would come to the church office to answer the phones while we had our staff meetings.  She would often bring in the crossword puzzle to work on and I would stop by her desk to help her with a couple of clues before the meeting.
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On Wednesday, I would see her again at the Quilters as she was working the old Singer sewing machine that my grandmother had, you know, the cast iron one that folded into itself on its own desk, complete with that foot pedal to make the needle move up and down.
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I greeted her almost every Sunday, as she refused to take the elevator and walked up that long staircase with a great sense of accomplishment when she reached the top.  Alongside her was often a family member, mostly her granddaughter, Erin, sitting with her on the second row, center aisle.
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I remember the stories that she told about the adventures with her late husband, Tommy, who died maybe eight years ago. As teachers, they had the summers off and would travel in their camper around the country, most notably two trips over the years to Alaska.
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And then, just a day or two after her shift on the phones one Tuesday morning, she wasn’t feeling well, her speech a bit garbled. Stubbornly, she refused to go to the hospital saying that it will pass. Her family finally dragged her to the ER where they determined there was a brain bleed. They had two options.  Do brain surgery on a 92-year-old with a high degree of impairment afterwards or. . .let nature take its course. Ann made it very clear that no surgery would happen.
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After a day of agitation, on Friday night, Ann went to sleep. I visited her in the hospital, and she was peaceful. No stirring or agitation, no moaning or wrinkled brow. Literally, just asleep for a couple of days until, four days later, she woke up in the arms of Jesus.
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Not bad, huh?
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If you could write the last chapter of your life, would it be much different? A lifelong love affair with your husband, surrounded by loving children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Volunteering at your church. Living independently. And then just falling asleep, waiting to be awakened by your Savior.
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It kind of makes you smile, doesn’t it?
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She was indeed one of my favorites!
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Pastor Scott

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