Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom
Psalm 90:12 niv
My favorite aunt, Wanda DeVol Ringhiser, died February 8th. She and I had a special connection from the day of my birth. In fact, she—a high school sophomore—was present when I was born on the kitchen table in my grandparent’s home. As I grew, she was my mentor. When I was three years old, she had married and moved to Columbus to live with her in-laws while my uncle served in WWII. She worked in an airplane-assembly plant and came to visit her parents and me every weekend. She always brought the latest vinyl recording of popular WWII songs and we would sing and dance to them. I still remember all the words to When It Rains, It Always Rains Pennies From Heaven. A few years after the war, I was old enough to visit my aunt and uncle for a week each summer. During that time, she introduced me to many things: caramel ice-cream sundaes, art museums, public busses, department stores, canasta, etc. When I was homesick and cried to go home during the night, she and my uncle would put me between them in bed. Of course, in the morning, I always wanted to stay in Columbus with them.
The good times just went on and on. She was present at my wedding, drove the best man from the airport to the ceremony, and loaned her silver flatware for our wedding reception. She visited us in New Jersey several times, and after my mother came to live with us, would come here to care for her so that my husband and I were able to take vacations. During the past eleven years, nearly each Sunday evening found us having our weekly telephone visits—at least an hour each call.
Last summer, breathing became very difficult for Aunt Wanda. She was diagnosed as having a heart-valve problem. Due to her age, 89, the cardiologist wanted to try to help her by using medications rather than surgery. By winter, it became evident that this would not work; her condition continued to worsen. The surgeon was very clear that to put in a new valve was risky at her age but that she had a chance for it to work. He left the decision to her. After much prayer and discussion with her son, grandchildren, great grandchildren and me, Aunt Wanda decided she would take the risk. She told me that she had lived a long, good life. She was willing to try for quality over quantity.
Her surgery was set for January 31st. She prepared for both outcomes. She paid all her bills, gassed up her car, cleaned her apartment, got rid of perishable food, and packed her suitcase with sufficient clothing to last for both the hospital and rehabilitation periods. She also gathered all her important papers, insurance policies, death directives, POA, her will, banking information, etc., and put them in a box for her son in case she died during the surgery. She also made sure all the people most important to her were aware of the date of the surgery, why she elected to have it, and told me she loved me.
Her son and adult grandchildren all took off work to go to the hospital with her. Upon arrival, she was informed her surgery had been postponed for a week due to emergency surgery for another patient. My cousin told me Aunt Wanda was “mad as a hornet.” She kept telling the receptionist that her family used their vacation days to be with her and she had poured the last of her carton of milk down the drain. Of course, being Aunt Wanda, by the time I spoke with her that evening she had calmed down and told me it was better that the surgeon took care of the other patient rather than letting him die just to operate on her.
I spoke with her again the night before her surgery. She was still sure what she was doing was the right thing. What had she done during the final seven days of her life? Why, just what she did all the other days of her life – enjoyed each day and took time for others. She attended church on Sunday, drove an invalid member to that service, visited my uncle’s grave, was in contact with her family, spent time watching ballgames on TV with her special male friend, attended events at the local senior center, and continued to live her “good life.” Aunt Wanda knew how to number her days aright.
Thank you Lord for giving me such a loving and wise aunt.
Teach me, like her, to number my days aright. Amen
Contributed by Nancy
Monday April 16, 2012
Liturgical Year B: Week 21
Liturgical Color: White
Sunday Gospel reading:
Second Sunday of Easter