Remembering a Wonderful Woman

Yesterday a couple hundred people in our community said farewell to a wonderful woman and I was among them. We honored Ruby, a strong, dedicated woman of God and pastor of a small Pentacostal congregation. I didn't quite realize the depth and breadth of her influence until the service.

I came to know Ruby when she was a housekeeper for me earlier six or more years ago (back in the good ol' days when I could afford help). She'd be at our house all day, cleaning and doing laundry, refusing to iron inside in air conditioning and always staying in the garage, even in sweltering heat and humidity. Many times she'd bring people with her - maybe a few children who needed tending, often Aunt P. who helped her iron and made me laugh, once in a while one of her flock (usually a young woman with hopeful eyes).

Ruby wasn't a full-time housekeeper - she just needed some extra income to support her family and flock. Several times a year she'd travel to visit family or preach at a revival in Alabama. She raised four biological children and five stepchildren, adopted two more and took in many others who needed help. Turns out, she was many things to many people, answering to many names: Momma, Grandma, Pastor, Ruby, Miss Ruby (as my children knew her), Mizz Johnson (that's how we pronounce Mrs. in the South).

Having never attended a service in a Pentacostal Church, much less a funeral service at an African-American church, I wasn't sure what to expect at her service. What I found was awesome! The front of the printed program had a photo of Ruby dressed in her finest preaching attire and was titled, "Home Going Celebration for Paster Ruby." Home Going Celebration. That's exactly what it was. The other funerals I've attended have been for white people, held in funeral homes or churches, with remembrances and always, always with tears.

At Ruby's service, it was all smiles and nods and right hands in the air as people swayed to music and shouted, "Yes!" Just like the program stated, it was a celebration. Tears had been shed before and will be shed again, but not yesterday. The music was fabulous and inspiring and made me stand and clap my hands or tap my feet and dance in my seat. It came as no surprise that the prayers were passionate pleas invoking God to give us strength in Ruby's absence and praising Ruby, who is right where she wanted to be, who went "Home" in time to celebrate Christmas with Jesus.

I want a funeral service like Ruby's. No tears, no sadness, just knowledge that I'm in a better place, with lots of funny stories (there are loads of them). With lots of great music that makes people stand and clap and dance in their seats.

Ruby, I'm blessed to have known you. You are missed.