Richard Stride: Love the people around you and be kind more often than necessary

At the end of many of my sermons over the years, I would say something simple to the precious souls listening.

I would remind them that when life is over, people will not remember how big your house was. They will not remember what car you drove. Most of them will not even remember where you worked.

But they will remember how much you loved.

I learned that lesson many times as a pastor.

There was one woman in our church who always sat on the very front row. She was intellectually disabled, but she had one of the most beautiful souls you could ever meet. Every Sunday, she would sit there, leaning forward just a little, listening as if every word mattered.

Sometimes, while I was speaking, I would notice a tear quietly rolling down her cheek.

Not a dramatic cry. Just a single tear.

After the service I would stand near the door and greet people as they left. And every Sunday she was the first one in line.

Without fail.

She would walk up, wrap her arms around me in the biggest hug she could give, and whisper softly, “Thank you, Pastor Richard.”

It wasn’t a long conversation. It didn’t need to be.

But I never forgot those moments.

She probably never owned a big house. I doubt anyone remembers what kind of car she rode in to church. And I have no idea what kind of job she might have had.

But I do remember her heart.

I remember the sincerity in her eyes, the way she listened, and the quiet gratitude she carried with her.

In a world that often measures people by accomplishments and possessions, she reminded me of something much deeper.

The things that last are not the things we accumulate.

The things that last are the ways we love one another.

I have spoken at enough funerals in my life to know something about what remains when a life passes on.

No one stands up and says, “He had a very impressive garage.”

No one says, “She had excellent quarterly earnings.”

Instead someone says, “He loved his family.”

Or, “She was always there when you needed her.”

Or sometimes the simplest words of all: “She had a good heart.”

In the end, love is the only thing that leaves a lasting footprint on the human heart.

The houses get sold. The cars wear out. The jobs are filled by someone else.

But the love we give away stays with people.

It lives in their memories. It echoes in their stories. Sometimes it even changes the way they treat others.

So if you ever wonder what really matters in the long run, the answer is simpler than we often imagine.

Love the people around you.

Be kind more often than necessary.

Show up when it counts.

Because long after everything else is forgotten, love is all that remains. Maybe that is what heaven notices most — not the things we build, but the love we give away.

You know, when I think about it now, I’m not sure she realized how much those hugs meant to me.

But I do know this — long after many sermons are forgotten, her kindness and loving soul is something I still remember.

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Dr. Richard J. Stride is the CEO of Cascade Community Healthcare.