Note – if you missed part one, click on last week’s blog post first!

          Angie put down her textbook and glanced at her phone. “Hey Mom.”

          “Hi. Do you have a minute to talk?”

          Angie leaned back against the headboard. “Sure. Is everything ok? You sound a little upset.”

          “Mrs. Wilkens is in the hospital.”

          Angie sat up, her book sliding from her lap. “Oh no, what happened?”

          “Honey, she’s not young. Her heart doesn’t work quite as well as it used to, and they’re keeping her for observation. I know she means a lot to you.”

          “She does. Ever since I started college, she’s been sending letters to me every month. I must have a few dozen letters from the past few years. She always tells me she’s praying for me. And sometimes she’ll even send cookies.” Angie sighed. “Do the doctors think she’ll be ok?”

          “I’m not sure how much longer she has left.”

          “I want to visit her,” Angie said. “I’ll be home this weekend.”

          “You’re a sweet girl. I look forward to seeing you.”

          When the weekend arrived, Angie, true to her word, made the two-hour drive back to her hometown and straight to the hospital. When she entered Mrs. Wilkens room, her heart sunk. Her beloved teacher sat propped up by pillows, but her skin was pale, and countless wires snaked from her arms while a stream of beeps and blips on the monitors nearby kept track of each beat of her heart.

          “Oh, Angela. You came to see me.” Mrs. Wilkens pressed a hand to her chest. “You are a sweetheart.”

          “I brought you these,” Angela said, holding a bouquet of fresh daisies she’d picked up at a roadside stand on the way home. “I’m not sure there’s a place to put them, though,” she said, surveying the room. Bright bouquets lined the window sill and bedside table. “I think you’ve had a few visitors already.”

          The corners of Mrs. Wilkens’ mouth lifted. “A few. I’ve been blessed.”

          After chatting for a while, Mrs. Wilkens’ eyes drooped. “I think you need some rest,” Angie said. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

          Mrs. Wilkens blinked the sleep from her eyes and focused on Angie. “Would you be a dear and water my plants? I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here, and I’m sure they’re getting a little thirsty by now. The key is under the flowerpot on the side porch.”

          “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

          After dinner with her parents, Angie drove to Mrs. Wilkens’ house. She turned on the hose and gave the hydrangeas a good soaking, located the key, and entered the house to take care of the indoor plants. While there, she spotted Mrs. Wilken’s address book and an idea formed.

          Back at home, she told her mother of her plan.

          “Mom, Mrs. Wilkens wrote letters to all these people. It’s time for her to get some letters in return.”

          Angie wrote a letter and printed copies for everyone in the address book, telling them about Mrs. Wilkens’ condition and how she’d appreciate a letter or card letting her know what she’d meant to them. Together with her parents, Angie addressed and stamped hundreds of envelopes and dropped them in the mail. By the end of the weekend, after another visit to the hospital, Angie was spent.

          The next few weeks were quiet, but Mrs. Wilkens wasn’t far from Angie’s mind. Finally, the call she’d been dreading came.

          “Mrs. Wilkens is gone.”

                                                                                              ****

          After a hymn, the pastor stood, and his gaze traveled around the room, his eyes wide. “I’ve never officiated a larger funeral. People are here from all over the country to pay their respects to Mrs. Wilkens. She wasn’t a celebrity. She’s never been on TV, never posted on social media, never owned a computer, and never traveled more than 100 miles from her home. She didn’t attend college, and never had much money. But look around you.” The pastor gestured to the walls covered with letters, a testament to all the lives she’d touched. “From her classroom right here in this very church to the tiny living room in her home where she wrote, she changed the world. I’ve read these letters, and they’ve touched me more than I can say.”

          “These letters come from husbands, from wives, from mothers and fathers who are teaching the next generation what they’ve learned about God. In these letters we have a CEO, a judge, an author, a senator, a surgeon, missionaries, evangelists… all people who sat in that little classroom on the second floor learning how to collect souls for the kingdom.”

          “Mrs. Wilkens is a true model of Jesus, a man who also never owned a computer or traveled far from his home, and look how He changed the world. Never underestimate the power of what one person can do. Mrs. Wilkens was truly the most successful woman I’ve ever met. And what can we learn from her? Love Jesus and tell others about Him. If that simple example seems too high a bar, consider this. What if the one person you tell about Jesus turns out to be another Mrs. Wilkens?”

Matthew 4: 18-20  

As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen.  “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.”  At once they left their nets and followed him.

God, help us to fix our eyes on you. Success isn’t about how much we cross off our to-do list. It’s about loving people and pointing them toward you. At the end of our lives, it won’t matter how much money we make or how high we move up the corporate ladder. It won’t matter how nicely we’ve fixed up our house or our yard. All that matters is drawing people to You and loving them along the way. Please help us to remember that simple truth. In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.