Lord willing, our generation will never go through another pandemic. Lord willing, those living with Long Covid will be restored to full health. Lord willing, we will all heal from the emotional trauma of these past four years.
How I do pray that the Lord is willing!
Hearing “Lord willing” makes me think of Madge Huff, who helped raise our three children, and whom we called “Miss Madge.” She died in January of 2020 at age 90. Soon afterwards, the pandemic hit, with all of its misery. I remember often pausing, in those early months, to thank God that Miss Madge – though I missed her terribly – wasn’t having to go through the isolation and confusion.
Miss Madge said “Lord willing” more than any other person I’ve known. It peppered her conversation, which she’d say was because of the admonition in James 4:15: “Instead, you ought to say, ‘If the Lord is willing, we will live and do this or that’” (Berean Standard Bible).
Within the week after Miss Madge’s funeral, I wrote the following reflection, trying to capture all that she meant to me and to our family. Her influence lives on.
“If my 32-year-old self, with a baby and seeking to go back to work part-time as a family practitioner, had been able to articulate what I wanted in a babysitter, I would have chosen Miss Madge. But by no means had I that foresight. Instead, she was an acquaintance who was willing to add a few hours of childcare onto her job as a live-in sitter for an elderly man. His family allowed me to drop Martha Grace off for five hours, twice a week. But when he went to the hospital, and then to a nursing home, Miss Madge needed a place to live.
So she moved in with us. She was a widow who took an active role with her children and grandchildren, even as she worked part-time caring for Martha Grace. My work hours increased, and a year later we added 8-month-old Chandler to our family by adoption, and a year after that I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma while pregnant with John, who was born (healthy) in the middle of nine months of chemotherapy. Somewhere in there she met and married Sam and moved out, but she always worked for us. She had long since ceased being simply an employee; instead, she was a member of our family.
She was the glue that kept our family functional, especially during the year I battled cancer. She was a steady presence for two toddlers wondering why their mother couldn’t care for them. She then added caring for a newborn without complaint.
In fact, “without complaint” pretty much sums up Miss Madge’s approach to life. Remarkable, seeing that her life was pretty tough. She grew up in rural Louisiana and was married at 16—not too unusual for that time and place. She raised four children with minimal resources and little spousal support. Her faith wasn’t flashy, but God had taken hold of her heart as a young woman and she had never looked back. She trusted God implicitly and was grateful for the life God gave her.
At her funeral, I was chatting with a group of friends and family members and someone said, “I always thought I was the most special person in her life.” Everyone else, including me, chimed in and said the same thing. I guess we were all her favorites.
Galatians 5 lists the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. The fruit of the Spirit only develop with time and tending, and Miss Madge tended all of them, but two – gentleness and kindness – really characterized her. At her funeral, her grandson said she recently told him, “I could have been an old, angry, bitter person. But because of God, I am not.”
No, she most certainly was not. Neither my husband Don nor I ever remember her getting angry. And remember: she lived with us for years. She so obviously loved people, and her life inspired hundreds, across multiple generations. Angry and bitter people don’t inspire anyone.
She left a legacy, but legacy-leaving wasn’t her goal. She lived to serve God – in His way, and on His timetable. She never just said, “See you tomorrow.” She’d always add, “Lord willing.”
She never just said, “See you tomorrow.” She’d always add, “Lord willing.”
Every plan she made was “Lord willing.” Every situation she found herself in was “Lord willing.” I suspect she considered every breath she took was “Lord willing.” Her life preached a wordless sermon every day.
Lord willing, may my life do the same.”