Saying goodbye

to a friend from church. She had a wonderfully interesting life, living and working for years in missionary primary healthcare in rural Pakistan. When I met her more than 10 years ago the slow consuming caterpillar of Alzheimer’s disease had already started to eat away on the memories which made her who she was to her friends and family. I am thankful for having had the privilege to experience at a least a bit of her kindness and interest on Sunday mornings before the service.

Walking from the village hall to the parish church in bright winter sunshine with the morning fog still stubbornly lingering in the low-lying pockets of land, with no audible signs of human habitation, I could not avoid being grateful and content.