Saints and Little Things

November 1 is All Saints Day. Soooo, raise your hand if you were aware of this.

Okay, thank you – now keep your hand up if this fact will be affecting your day in any noticeable way.

Mm-hmm.

Growing up Baptist, All Saints Day meant nothing to me. It was just an ancient historical something that gave us a reason for costumes and candy on October 31^st. But I have since learned that it’s a day when we (that is, we Christians) are supposed to remember and honor the saints that “went before us”. And that's a lovely idea.

So I felt an urge in church, when All Saints Day was mentioned, to schedule a pause in my day to remember believers who went before me . . . in particular, people at University Baptist Church in Wichita, the church I grew up in.

Like Dorothy Melugin. From the earliest age I can remember, Mrs. Melugin was the kitchen lady – I think her official role was Chair of the Hospitality Committee (because we were Baptists and had to committee everything to death). She was in the kitchen and in charge of every food event that happened at UBC, but I particularly remember her coordinating the Wednesday night fellowship dinners where she always had hot dogs for the kids like me who were too shamefully picky to eat whatever other food was offered. Amazing, delicious hot dogs. She fed me. And I felt God’s nurturance and acceptance from her.

Like Jere Settle. For a short time, Jere and his wife Linda led the Wednesday evening youth fellowship, and we loved them to death. But my most prominent memory of Jere was his speaking up at a business meeting to ask about the line item in the budget for lawn care, which he thought was way too high. “I mean, green grass is nice, but it don’t save souls!” he proclaimed with passion. In Jere, I witnessed boldness and attention to God’s priorities.

Like Lionel Alford. He was president of Boeing in Wichita – a very powerful man. But he chose to help with the Bed Babies during Sunday School every week. I mean, the man had his own personal spit-up apron hanging in the room, ruffles and all. I specifically remember his talking about retirement . . . and how he didn’t see the appeal. He said people assumed he was looking forward to retiring and doing the things he loved, but he responded, “What if the thing I most love doing is my job?” I learned from Mr. Alford that God has work for me, and he means for that work to bring me joy.

The term “saint” is always an uncomfortable one because we know how imperfect we all are (see my recent post on that here). I’m quite sure that others who knew these people better than I did could tell some ugly stories about them as well. But that doesn’t matter. They belonged to God. God used them. They were the saints who went before me.

And I wonder now whether – on some cool, crisp first day of November in the future – my name will ever come to someone’s mind as a saint who God sent before them. And if so, what will be their most prominent memory of me? This humbles me, because I have a sneaking suspicion that, if I am remembered at all, it will not be for the big tasks I have spent all my time and energy on. More likely, it would be for a small comment I made on the way out the door . . . for a regular duty I attended to that seemed insignificant at the time . . . for something I may not even be conscious of having done at all.

Which is a reminder to me that the big things are actually the little things. Do the little things, Gwen. They matter.