Yesterday we paused to say, “Good-bye” to Susanne Willms Thielman. We had anticipated this day for some time, for Auntie Susanne was nearly ninety-seven years old and, although she was always cheerful and enthusiastic about life, her ability to live it had begun to wane noticeably in the last year.
The morning dawned blustery, grey and rainy. I remarked to my cousin Selma, “It’s not going to be very pleasant at the cemetery, is it?” and she responded pleasantly, “Well, I’ve prayed about it, and we may get a sunny break. We’ll see.” And indeed, about hal
f an hour before we were scheduled to gather the clouds parted, the sun shone down, and the air warmed up. By the time that about twenty of us met at the South Poplar Cemetery, the day looked wonderful. Auntie Susanne, who always looked on the bright side of things, would have been delighted.
My cousin, Walter Willms (Susanne’s oldest nephew), led the graveside service. He talked about the sunny, kindly person Auntie Susanne had been, and of our sure hope that she is in the Lord’s very presence right now, and that we will all be together again. Anne, Walter’s wife, led us in singing—
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father, 
There is no shadow of turning with Thee,
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not,
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!
Gerry Thielman (Auntie Susanne’s older son), with his son Joseph, had flown from Fredericksburg VA to bring his mother’s ashes to be buried in her parents’ grave here in Abbotsford. Gerry also spoke briefly of how special his mother had been— a kind and cheerful person who had blessed the lives of people whereve
r she’d been. Gerry brought out the beautiful casket that contained his mother’s ashes and, after showing it to all of us, he gently placed it into the ground over his grandfather’s grave. Then we quickly drove across town to the Garden Park Tower, where another thirty or so friends joined us for a tea that Selma and her sister MarieAnne had prepared. Several people, including Susanne’s youngest brother John, spoke about her. Anne led us in another song, and then we had a good time of eating and visiting.
As I considered the day, I thought to myself that Auntie Susanne really went out on a high note. Despite her age, infirmities and increasing hearing impairment, she refused to complain. Rather she was as she had always been— a person who consistently and cheerfully loved and encouraged the people around her. She had completed her course—and she’d completed her memoir, which she’d seen published as a beautiful book that has been embraced by many readers, who will be blessed by the story that she told. What a great legacy to leave behind.
Yesterday, I had to think also of the legacy that, sooner or later, I will leave behind. Will I have family and friends who will get up on that day and say that I loved and encouraged them? Will my sons say that I was a good dad to them and (I hope) a good grandfather to their children? Will I leave behind a significant piece of work—something that will, in my absence, bless people and cause them to consider their own lives? Will there be those who will say—“He caused me to consider my own need of Jesus”?
I think these are important questions that we need to ask ourselves, and more often than we do.
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