Eulogies are always difficult to compose. How can a person’s entire life be shrunk into just a few paragraphs? You know what makes it even harder? When the person hasn’t lived a good life. They have been cruel and abusive, selfish and manipulative — all the time, to everyone they encounter.
That’s what I’m working on this weekend.
A woman I know well, Angela, is near death at age 41 from terminal breast cancer that has metastasized throughout her body. A horrible end to what by most accounts has been a horrible life. So what would I say to the friends and family who survive her?
I’d like to sugar coat it, but I can’t.
“She’s in a better place.” Probably not. “She’s no longer suffering.” That might not be true either. “The world is a better place because she was here.” Really? I’ve yet to find even one person who would agree.
Maybe, just maybe I need to have the courage to tell Angela’s survivors the truth.
Angela had severe mental health impairments. Her brain chemistry, genetics, and early childhood abuse made it nearly impossible for her to become a kind and loving member of her family, and society in general.
She put her own needs and desires above everyone else’s because she believed that’s what she deserved.
Everyone who ever knew Angela, cared for her, tried to help her, wanted to love her, or provided services to her joined the cadre of victims that she left behind. We each have countless stories of Angela’s extreme mental and emotional abuse, her barrages of profanity, and her cruel criticisms that always managed to hit the exact spots where we were most vulnerable.
Angela was smart — wicked smart. She knew exactly where to inflict the highest probability of damage.
Angela never ascribed to any form of faith journey. She didn’t attend a church or synagogue. Never read the words of Buddha, or Mohammed, or Albert Camus. She didn’t visit the elderly and never made a casserole for a sick friend. Once in a while Angela offered to babysit, but even children weren’t safe under her calculated eye.
It was always about what Angela wanted.
So, was her life a waste, or a tragic mistake? No. No it wasn’t. God never makes mistakes. Angela was born loved by the King of the Universe. She may have ignored Him, but He never turned His eyes away from her. He watched her tortured life with great concern. Her rejection of Him was consistent and complete; it was never mutual.
There are two things I want to say to anyone who actually shows up at Angela’s memorial.
First, she taught us valuable life lessons. Every time we reached out in love and experienced her hateful response, we grew stronger. We learned that no name she could ever call us was more powerful than what God calls us, and what we call ourselves. Our capacity for kindness wasn’t diminished; it was enhanced by our persistence.
Love requires muscles of patience and compassion. Angela was an entire exercise program.
Second, if we let her, Angela can teach us invaluable lessons about forgiveness. None of us need to carry our pain and anger into an undeserving world. We can choose to forgive her, and walk free. We can excuse Angela for being mentally ill, selfish, and hurtful. Nothing she ever did to us is beyond our ability to extend grace and pardon.
I still hope that in her final moments, Angela saw God’s love and repented. We’ll never know, but the very best way to honor Angela is to forgive the harm she caused us.
“Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered…” (Romans 4:7)
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Sylvia Peterson is former co-pastor for Bald Hill Community Church and the author of “The Red Door: Where Hurt and Holiness Collide,” which can be purchased at Amazon or Barnes & Noble. She and her husband are chaplains for the Bald Hills Fire Department. You can email her at sylviap7@comcast.net.
