The following post is not my attempt to jump on the bandwagon. It is only my written words flowing from the thoughts swirling through my head yesterday. It is simply remembering a lady who touched my life without us ever meeting.
Yesterday, Lufkin suddenly lost a precious lady- a mother, friend, church member, co-worker, community advocate. I say ‘precious’ not because I knew her to be, but because so many others did.
I’m really not sure I ever met Emily Watts, but Walker would be the first to say that I referred to her as ‘the lady I wanted to be my best friend.’ I thought my life would be more fun with her in it, and I know those that actually knew her would say theirs was.
She was a vibrant woman known for her voice, but the moment I remember most about Emily was when the singing stopped. We were at our church women’s retreat almost a year ago, and she was on the worship team. One particular song wasn’t quite living up to the quality of the previous songs. People were off beat, eyes were looking around the room, and I was wondering if we would actually make it to the end.
In that moment, Emily stopped singing and started laughing into the mic. A deep, hearty chuckle straight into the microphone. I think my instant infatuation with her actions has caused me to embellish it in my head, as I recall her bending over and slapping her knee before standing up to continue with the song. A knee slap or not, this is what I know for sure—she stopped what she was supposed to be doing to take a moment and laugh.
To many people, Emily was a whole person—somebody they knew intimately for years. To me, she was bits and pieces I witnessed here and there—but how important were those bits and pieces.
In that particular moment I saw her as someone who didn’t take life too seriously. A woman able to laugh at herself even with all eyes on her. Some women at the retreat might not have even noticed Emily’s few seconds of cackling, but for me it was a moment of growth, of inspiration, of gratefulness.
In most moments of our lives, eyes are watching, and how we choose to live in those few seconds will affect people we might never even meet. In a moment that could have brought on frustration or embarrassment, Emily chose laughter and joy. I pray in future moments I will go forth mimicking a lady I never met face to face. I pray we all do.
Soon enough there will come a moment, probably today, when I will have that choice. When someone will witness bits and pieces of me. In that moment I’ll remember Emily. In that moment—that fleeting moment called life—I will choose to look full in His wonderful face and let things of earth grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.