Bessie -- A Foundational Salt of the Earth by C. Burr

Bessie (photo taken about 2005 on Mother's Day)

“Maybe there is no such thing as time; there are only moments, each with its own story.”  Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass

Robin Kimmerer inspires me to sit and listen to nature. One morning in early June,  I reclined in my backyard, noting how each oxygen-filled inhalation is a gift from trees, grasses, shrubs, flowers, mushrooms, and mosses.   As I breathed in the whiffs of a neighbor’s lilacs, I thought of my mother-in-law, Bessie, and the gentle cessation of her breath a few weeks prior.   “Death lost its sting” for me during her sacred transition, and although I’ll always feel sad about her leaving us, I am comforted by HER words of comfort. She told us not to worry; she was ready to go.

              I offered to write Bessie’s obituary, meeting the challenge to collapse a life story into a couple of paragraphs—a story absent of awards, degrees, and distinguished honors on a list of who’s who, but a life that affected dozens of people over her 93 years.  

                A friend pulled me aside, after reading the obituary, and said “There are people who are the salt of the earth and then there are people who become a foundational salt of the earth.  Bessie is one of those people.”  He went on to explain that her goodness laid a foundation that will live on in her children, grandchildren, and other people who knew her.

I know what he means.  This tiny woman lived significant verses of the Christian Bible without asking individuals if they were “saved.”  She didn’t judge others, practiced kindness, remained humble, and cared for her ailing husband, Albert.  She respected her flesh and blood temple, taking excellent care of herself and she was a good neighbor, visiting the lonely and the sick.  As salt of the earth, she preserved loving-kindness as Jesus taught.   

Bessie’s kind essence will expand beyond the grave through numerous descendants over decades.   And yet, when I consider a 1.5 billion-year-old Sioux quartzite brought into Kansas from the Ice Age and when I scan the midnight sky for stars millions of light-years away, I realize that Bessie’s life – all of our lives - are but tiny specks.  

 Even in our smallness, says Kimmerer, “Isn’t it miraculous that each life, stone, and star has its own story?”     I pray my brief moment on this earth--my tiny spark of a life --can be as foundational and fruitful as my mother-in-law Bessie’s.

                                                            

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn,

   for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,

   for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

   for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful,

   for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart,

   for they will see God. . . .

You are the salt of the earth.        Matthew 5:3 – 8; 13.

  

                                                         ---- Elder C. Burr

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