My beloved Aunt—Mary Cupp went home to be with the Lord today. By her dear example I want to exhort you with the truth that she made so real to anyone who knew her: That each one of us can touch the world in profound ways simply by being present and real with the love of the Spirit that flows through us. In a most singular way she showed me clearly what is meant in Matthew 6:5: “But when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.” Her good works seemed a secret especially to her because it was all from sheer joy and planning was not at all necessary to her to be a blessing. So many must be thanking her now for her care of them--those whom we never saw, and those to whom she won’t remember the act of kindness that was provided.

In the spirit of disclosure I will declare that: Yes, it is true that on my first night on the planet she calmed my excessive case of baby-hiccups with her nurse’s skills by making a luxurious cradle out of a dresser drawer to relieve her nervous sister who was a first-time mother. And she was my Girl Scout Leader making the understory of the forest for me an exotic wonder forevermore because of her joy in it. She also taught me how to survive the long and cold wait for a Pennsylvanian Spring by starting a minor Winter jungle in the attic with seeds planted in egg shells all ready to go into the garden as hearty seedlings when the temperatures accommodated.

I never gained her intrepid desire to spin gardens all over the hillside with absolutely no forethought for the Poison Oak that she would have to bear for many weeks into the first bloom. She was a paper mache’ artist, and so we got to wear big funny masks in local parades and wander around intentionally bumping into each other. True, we often didn’t eat dinner until 9:00pm because we were having so much fun that she forgot to put the pot roast into the oven, but the timing was just right if your didn’t like the concoction anyway and claimed sleepiness. There was never a bird, squirrel, or deer that she didn’t want to feed as they came by the massive picture windows in the kitchen to look into the warm Cupp household from their freezing mountain home just up the hill. I learned the joy of reading from her and also how to ignore the clock when a book needed finishing. When we made homemade wild berry ice cream it was commonly accepted that the horse would come onto the back porch to get his portion from a big mixing bowl.

So much more I could tell you—about how laughter was such a big part of the punctuation of our exchanges, about how we always wore the same hats all summer and were mystified when we had permanent hat-head, or about how I won a Zinnia contest because she decided it would be best if we made the arrangement in a gravy-ladle, but I want you to know more about why she reveled in enriching the lives of children and those around her.

My Aunt Mary showed me what it meant to have a dedicated and joy-filled heart as a wife to her amazing husband, Kenny, who was her constant partner in the pursuit of the very same joys of transforming little hearts into big-hearted adults. As a mother to her children--Bill & Missy--she brought the same stunning brand of love I have described on the wings of music. Her singing voice was self-admittedly pretty awful—but this was never a hindrance to her singing heart as her children got to really gain the musical gifts that she didn’t have. If there was a child who needed a ride for some special training she was the happy chauffeur. As a head nurse in a nursing home the patients adored her so much that even the naturally gruff ones followed her around as she dispensed meds. Her humor, in a place that could be somber, made the patients know that she had hope for them and her delivery of a strong but witty statement could bring peaceful rest to the most feverish soul. Her wink was not flippant, but a seal that you could rely upon the very same optimism and resiliency to be yours by her belief in you.

As I think of her now in heaven it must be such a joy for her--as there each one knows uniquely that we are each a child of God. It is an understanding that was so developed for her already, even here in the land of the living. She must be leaping about with the fragrance of heavenly gardens abounding, knowing that no child there can ever be sick, that each one will look upon the other with the meek but fervent love of a child, and that nurses aren’t needed there, but a grand-hearted Aunt Mary can shout “Hallelujah! Here!” when the roll from the Book of Life is read with her most precious name in it. Eternal life with no more tears will be such wonderment for and with her.

So, dear Aunt Mary--no more nervous hiccups from this one. And when I can’t call you to hear your voice that knows just how to remind me about where to look for courage--to the Heavenly Father--I’ll hear your lullaby from the forest floor, from the gardens dancing on Holy Spirit winds, and from the echo of the many prayers that you have said over my life with your rarefied love. I would share hat-head with you any day, especially now with the royal child of God crown that you have received. How ready you must be to cast that before His throne from which all love is borne!