Wait, don’t click the “back” button! I’d like you to keep reading so I can tell you about Ronda—sweet Ronda who just went to be with Jesus. I am certain you will find yourself blessed and encouraged if you press on.
Ronda was born special. She was special in the sense of being unique and dearly loved, but she was also special in the sense that she was atypical. I’m not aware that she ever received a formal diagnosis—perhaps the appropriate label didn’t exist back in the early 50s. Suffice it to say, though, that even while she lived for 75 years, her mind remained like that of an eight or ten year-old’s. She was at the same time a senior citizen and a child.
Ronda came to our church’s attention about 10 years ago. By that time we got to know her, she had already outlived her parents and brother and even the trustees they had put in place. Her family had been assured that because of her physical and cognitive conditions, she could not possibly live to old age, but she proved the experts wrong. Though she now lived at a nursing home where her immediate needs were met, she had no family to love her, no friends to visit her, no carers to oversee her future. While her parents had done their utmost to provide for her, her finances were now quickly dwindling. She had no ability to know or understand such matters and no ability to do even the least thing about them.
So our church stepped in. Members of the church took turns driving her to the service each Sunday morning, hosting her in their home on Sunday afternoon, then bringing her back for the evening service. Others visited during the week to relieve the tedium of sitting alone in a room hour after hour and day after day. One member of our church even came to understand that he was one of Ronda’s nearest living relatives and was able to become her trustee. When Ronda’s financial state grew perilous, the church helped her move to a more affordable yet still comfortable nursing home, then made up the shortfall out of the benevolence fund.
Ronda had not been part of the church for long when she expressed a desire to become a member. Though she had come to Christ many years before, she had never been baptized. She was able to stand at the front of the room and provide the sweetest, simplest testimony to God’s grace in her life. She told how in 1966 she had heard the gospel at church. She told us that later that day, “Dad was down in the basement and mom was in the kitchen. I went downstairs to Dad’s workshop, and said, ‘Dad, I’d like to become a Christian.’” She knelt and prayed. “I started crying and Dad was with me. Mom came down and stopped in the middle of the stairs. And then she came down and hugged me.” Her parents had loved the Lord, led her to the Lord, then gone to be with the Lord. We had the joy of baptizing her and receiving her into membership. For ten years, she was loved and treasured as a member of our church.
Just a few months ago, we noticed that Ronda’s body was beginning to weaken and her breath beginning to fade. It was cancer, the doctors said. It had spread to her lungs and was so now extensive that there could be no effective treatment. She had weeks or a few months at most. When told the news in very simple terms that she could understand, she was sad for a few moments, then brightened a little and said “Well, I’ll get to see Mom and Dad.”
Before long it required three or even four people to care for her at church on a Sunday morning, and at least one of them had to have some medical expertise to help her through terrible coughing fits that sometimes caused her to faint. She insisted as strongly as she could that she wanted to keep coming to church, no matter what. Yet on Sundays when she was simply too weak or too ill, a couple of people would go to her room with an iPad so they could sit with her, sing with her, and watch the service together.
Last week she was taken to hospital and then to palliative care. She didn’t really understand that she was in her last days, but the church did. Different members kept vigil with her day and night, for it didn’t seem right that she should die alone. A couple of ladies from the church were at her side on Wednesday evening as she went to be with Jesus.
Shortly after that member of our church became Ronda’s trustee, he discovered a letter her father had written many years before. He expressed his special love for his special girl and asked several family friends to serve as her trustees. “You are aware that our chief concern is for our darling daughter Ronda. A lifetime of daily care for her has given us knowledge of what she needs and what we believe is best for her.” He asked only that she be well loved and allowed to remain in the one neighborhood that was familiar to her. And then he expressed firm faith in God’s provision and entrusted his girl to the Lord. “We take comfort in knowing whatever you do, you will seek the help of the Lord. As He promised us His help over the past years, we are assured that Ronda is still very much a ‘child of His care’ so we commit her again to God’s loving care and yours.”
What a blessing it was to learn that our church had been an answer to a father’s prayer—a prayer he had lifted decades prior, never imagining how it would be answered. I can’t even tell you the joy and pride I feel in the people of Grace Fellowship Church for so willingly and joyfully loving Ronda. And I am certain they would all agree it was a distinct honor to know, to love, and to care for one of God’s weakest and, therefore, one of God’s dearest daughters.
