Burning
Bright
“What is
to give light must endure burning.”
Viktor
Frankl
Yesterday at church, we
celebrated the life of Ethel Owen. She will observe her 94th
birthday on Friday, June 30. More than anyone else, Ethel has
taught me how to live as a woman-on-her-own. Her husband died from cancer when their children were just nine and eleven years old. Ethel
was about forty when widowed, and worked as a Physical
Therapist doing home visits for the University of Alabama Medical
Center. At the time of her husband's death, Ethel was already no
stranger to loss. Her brother had been killed in a training accident at
the opening of World War II. Ethel became a Navy Wave, in part to
fill the shoes of her brother, but also because she had vital skills
that were needed for men returning from war. Instead of
caving-in over the losses in her life, she waded into it with all
that she had, and the impact of that has been super-sized.
Ethel is a woman who, in
typical military fashion, pulls no punches when she speaks her mind.
If you don't want to hear her strong and straight-forward opinion,
best not ask her the question. She's given up her car now, and not a
moment too soon. She put battlefield ambulance drivers to shame with her full-throttle approach to making her way through the streets
of Birmingham. Yesterday, her grand daughter told a story of Ethel backing out
of her driveway at fifty miles per hour without a single backward
glance. I've had my own experiences with her driving. At the top of
Red Mountain, the highest peak around here, Ethel pulled the car out of gear, took her foot off the
brake, and informed me, “This is how I save money on gas!” I
covered my head and ducked like they taught us to do during air raid
drills when I was six. I prayed, too, “Lord, just let me survive
this and I promise to never get in the car with this mad woman
again!”
Ethel is an avid birder
who, well into her eighties, back-packed through wilderness areas
counting bird species for the Audubon Society. She is an artist, a
member of Alabama Designer Craftsmen, who until recently was at every
art festival in the state with her gourd and pine straw baskets. Her
life still has a lot of tread on it. She has lived it, and not wasted
a moment. She did not let adversity and loss turn her bitter or make
her soft. She continues to shed her light—one tested, and because of that
testing, burning brighter than ever. If you have just one person like
Ethel in your life, count yourself among the blessed.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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