Rachel & Judith

Some people dread sitting in the group sections on trains. Heaven forbid you might be forced to face a complete stranger for six hours. But honestly, I prefer a wide-open space and a potentially friendly face to the back end of a semi-reclined chair supporting a rude, smelly, snoring beer gut with a beard.

As luck would have it, I got two friendly faces; Rachel, a student studying fashion, textiles, and interior design at UNC in her early twenties, and Judith, a sweet grandmotherly figure in her late sixties. Though complete strangers, the three of us fell easily into conversation.

Rachel, a child of early divorce, seems the type who always tries to make the best of bad situations. She lives as the lone neat-nik in a house full of irresponsible, messy girls. She maintains a long-distance relationship of three years, and she carries the responsibility of loving and caring for her horse, Bucket, a gift from her grandparents. 

I asked her if she planned to stay in the area, and was surprised by her answer. While she loved her smallish hometown in North Carolina, she did not want to remain in that environment, due to the small mindedness and racism still fairly prominent in her area. Apparently, it is commonplace to hear the term “Ni***r” used in everyday language in a derogatory way. I was taken aback, as it has literally been years since I have personally heard it used (not in films) in such a hateful way. Rachel experienced racism on a personal level, as she received a lot of grief over her Puerto Rican boyfriend. I suppose I was naïve to think that such blatant racism is only a problem of the past.

Further food for thought was served when Judith opened up about her journey back home to North Carolina. She was just in VA visiting her cousin, whose husband was living in the hell of stage four terminal cancer. What hit me the hardest about her tragic description was the severe lack of peace in the entire situation. Judith spoke of how Christmas cheer was nowhere to be found this year. He was not ready to die yet he knew he had to. All this produced was unmitigated misery.

I have known cancer patients, and I know how horrible a thing it is, but I have never met one who was without the hope of Christ. Every single one I have known believed that their salvation was to come, either in the form of their healing or in their ultimate homecoming. With this hope always came joy or peace amidst the suffering, like a candle in the darkness. But as I searched Judith’s face, there was none, just darkness and despair.

This caused me to think back to a memorial service I attended for a dear professor of mine who was taken well before her prime. Not a dry eye in the place, yet there was no room for gloom or darkness. We were all grieved, but our hearts were not heavy because we all rejoiced in the knowledge that she was in Paradise with her beloved Savior. It was such a beautiful service.

As I listened to Judith, I suddenly had a glimpse of what a secular funeral must be like. Empty. Hopeless. Pointless. A life was here on this earth, and then it wasn’t. At worst it was a waste of oxygen, and at best, an extraordinary person who might be remembered for great works, but ultimately, what was it all for? Even listening to Judith’s philosophy and views on living made me sad. Not that she was a natural Debbie Downer. In fact, she was a generally pleasant woman with a kind disposition. However, she described the world of the individual as a microcosm that only became smaller and smaller with age, until one was only aware of one’s immediate surroundings and the objects directly in front of them. All one can do is make do with what is in front of you.

I do not know what I would do if I lived in such a purposeless state. I do not know if I could sleep at night unless I was able to dream of worlds I’ve never seen. I do not know what I would do without the hope I have in Christ.