I preached Stella Hereford’s funeral earlier today. She was 87. Unless you already knew her, you wouldn’t have had any reason to get to know her. Several years ago she fell and broke her hip and spent her last few years on a walker.
If you saw her hobbling in and out of church on Sunday morning, all you would see was an old lady on a walker. Every church has at least one. You would see her and never think twice about it. You would certainly never guess what kind of life she lived.
It’s always amazing to me how many details of a person’s life go unknown until their funeral. The crowd that gathers to say goodbye to a friend hears revelations about someone they thought they knew. They’re usually the kind of things we would love to have known before the funeral, if only to be able to coax a few more details out of the storyteller.
It’s especially surprising to hear the stories of those whom we have only known in their old age. We can only remember them as we knew them–wrinkled, hunched over, and frail–rather than who they once were.
Today, we were surprised by the story of Stella Hereford’s life.
She was born in October of 1918, during the great influenza outbreak that killed millions of people worldwide. The day after she was born, both her mother and father died. She and her older sister were raised by her grandparents. Her grandmother died when Stella was twelve, leaving her and her older sister to care for their aging grandfather, in the middle of The Great Depression.
In 1943, Stella joined the Navy and served as a physician’s assistant in WW2.
In 1946 she married. Sixteen years and five kids later, her husband died. Stella worked day and night to raise her kids by herself. In 1973 she bought a house. She lived there for the remainder of her life. She was intensely proud of the fact that she paid for it with no outside help.
Though unwilling to accept help from others, she was always ready to help anyone in need. She made her home available to her family and their friends, never asking anyone for a cent of rent. She shared whatever food she had.
After a lengthy bout with a stomach infection, she told her oldest son on Saturday night, “I’ve had a bad day today. I’m going to sleep now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Now she sleeps and we wait for the great Tomorrow during which we will be able to get to know her a little better.
Stella Hereford was not just an old lady on a walker.
Telling Stories, Asking Questions, Learning Lessons
Wade, that was powerful. Thanks so much for sharing it.
Beautiful tribute. Thanks for sharing.
Awesome- please blog more- are you spending too much time at Chick-fil-a with the boys?
What an awesome tribute to one of Christ’s children!!! Thanks for sharing it.
I have always loved to sit at the feet of my “elders” and hear their stories. I learn from every one of them. My oldest living relative is 98, she is my grandmother’s oldest sister. I visit her whenever I can. She reminds me that I come from a long line of very strong and faithful women. Share Stella’s story with the church somehow. Thanks!
I don’t have an answer – but this story highlights the fact that church members, in their ever-increasing mobility and relocations, are not getting to know each other anymore to the degree they should. 50 years ago every church member would have known Stella and her life. Today is so much more complex than yesterday – and the Stella’s can become just another somebody if we’re not careful. Thanks Wade.
Stella’s story inspires. Overcoming hardship. Persevering, Being determined to not only make a way for herself but to help others and share what she has. It all seems to illustrate how God can turn pain and hardship to strength in those who love him. It inspires me to listen more closely to older folks. Thanks! Looking forward to ‘tomorrow’ that much more!
Stories like Stella’s always remind me of the journey that life is, and how the events in our life, even as children, prepare us for the road ahead and the lives of others that we will intersect.
It would have been easy to just read the standard obituary at the funeral. Thanks for taking the time to ask Stella’s family for her story and sharing it.
Thanks.
Even the smallest pebble leaves a wake when it hits the water. We should be paying attention to them all – young and old alike. All stories bleed into one.
Thanks for noticing, Wade.
Lance.
We are surrounded by heroes. If we would only take our eyes off the media stars and put them on real people who have done incredible things… thank you for helping us do that today, Wade.