Waverly Church was packed. Many people had come to honor a tragic heroine, even though they had never met Patrice. The people who actually had known Patrice as a close friend, or a casual acquaintance, or a work associate, were polarized. The polarity was epitomized in the presence of two men attending. These two accidentally and awkwardly met outside the church a few minutes before the memorial service began.
“Hello, Chemosh.”
Gene Chemosh looked up. “Lennox! What brings you…?” Chemosh stopped mid-sentence, a frown eclipsing the friendliness of his mien. He was recollecting the last time he’d talked with this man.
“Patrice Hamilton worked for me,” Hal Lennox stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yeah. You were there…”
“For the abortion.” Lennox finished the other man’s sentence. “What a tragedy.”
“The abortion?” Chemosh wasn’t quite himself.
“No! The accident.”
“Yes, for sure. Tragic and ironic.”
“Ironic?” Lennox asked.
Chemosh explained himself. “I was just thinking. Remember how she wanted to be the very first to donate her fully-developed baby to medical research?”
“Her fetus, you mean?” Lennox corrected him.
“Well, I prefer calling a baby a baby,” Chemosh responded flatly. “What’s ironic is that she ended up being recognized as giving up her own life for the sake of a small child. It’s quite a story.”
“I haven’t heard much. Tell me what you know.”
“It will probably get covered in the funeral service. Are you here by yourself?”
“No, some of my staff are here; they’re hanging out together.”
“Well, join me. You do know I quit, don’t you?”
“I do,” Lennox responded with raised eyebrows.
Chemosh smiled and held out his hand. “Friends?”
Lennox took it. “I think so.” The two men laughed in an effort to mask the awkwardness and walked inside.
……….
The music of “Amazing Grace” permeated the church. Jim and Rita, at Marc’s request, with the help of Mike and Nancy, had helped him plan the service. They knew the audience would be diverse, and they didn’t want to miss the opportunity to clearly present the loving provision of God.
Jim gave a brief sermon centered on the Gospel of John, chapter 14. Each attendant upon entering the building had been given a copy of Jesus’ words that were part of the pastor’s message.
Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.
In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you.
And if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be also.
I am the way, the truth, and the life: No man cometh unto the Father, but by me.
If ye love me, keep my commandments. And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, That he may abide with you forever; even the Spirit of truth; Whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.
I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.
Yet a little while, and the world seeth me no more; But ye see me: because I live, ye shall live also.
After Jim spoke, Rita walked up to the podium. She began by saying that Patrice had impacted her life profoundly—that although Patrice was young and single, she had made a profound impact on herself, an older woman and mother of five. Rita then recounted in detail what had happened just before the accident, including the conversation she and Patrice had had just before they had prayed together. She repeated the prayer as she remembered it, and shared how Patrice had repeated “Thank you, Jesus,” at the end. She also told the audience that Patrice had commented afterwards that being a Christian involved a totally different way of looking at things.
She smiled as she told how Patrice had thought Austin was the cutest little boy in the world. Finally, Rita shared how she herself, upon crying out for God’s help when Patrice was dying in her arms, had been led to sing “Jesus Loves Me.”
As Rita walked back to her seat, the sweet sound of a violin could be heard playing the familiar melody, accompanied by piano. The music wafted from the balcony through one verse and then a young man began singing the words, impromptu. One by one people began standing to their feet, joining in the simple song, until the entire audience was standing up. There were tears in the eyes of many.
When the music stopped, Nancy walked forward to give the eulogy. She read the history, as Marc and others knew it, of Patrice’s life. The audience stayed attentive as she gave a first-hand account of her own friendship with Patrice and how she had told “Pat” that she’d never had a sister and had always wanted one.
“‘So,’ I said to her, ‘I’ve adopted you,’” Nancy told the audience in her sweet voice. “She told me she didn’t really need a sister, and later, thinking about her words, I cried.” Tears were even now in the eyes of this very pregnant young woman. “But I felt such a sense of victory, because I’d been able to verbalize how much I liked her—loved her. She knew I was a Christian and very different from her in so many ways, but you know what? She let me be her friend—and we became very close.” She paused for a moment. “You’ve heard what our mutual friend Rita has shared, so now you know that Patrice is indeed my sister in the truest sense of the word.” Nancy’s voice broke as she nodded her head, “She and I will spend eternity together.”
Struggling to control her voice, she swallowed and continued. “I miss Pat, but I know Heaven’s full of praise. I bet she got a crash course in world history—from God’s perspective—from the saints all around, the minute she arrived. I can imagine one saint pointing out Abraham and another Moses. But Pat catches Trent’s hand, and together they run to…” she stopped momentarily in a vain effort to keep from crying. “…Jesus.”
Almost everyone was wiping away tears, but the mention of “Trent” caused a noticeable stir in the audience. Everyone had curiously followed every single word Nancy had uttered up to that point. Now a question hung in the air. Trent? Who was Trent?
Nancy sat down. It was Marc’s turn.
“I’m Marc Garman, and I knew Patrice perhaps better than anyone here today. We lived together until we separated about two years ago. You just heard Nancy mention the name ‘Trent.’” He took a deep breath, having difficulty speaking. “Trent was our son. None of you had the privilege of knowing him—neither did I. Neither did Patrice.”
In spite of the several hundred people occupying it, the sanctuary was absolutely quiet. Marc took another deep breath. “Patrice aborted Trent three weeks before the due date.” There was audible gasping from the audience. “I was really looking forward to being a dad. In fact, I’d already named the baby—Trent. But although I was very much against the abortion, I certainly share in the responsibility for it.”
Marc frowned as he continued. “There is a purpose in my sharing this difficult part of our relationship with you today.” A reassuring smile eased the frown before he continued. “I tell you all of this now only because the ending is happy, and because it is so very important to me.” He paused, looked up and took a deep breath as his eyes swept the audience. “You see, even though I certainly share the blame, I never understood how Patrice could even think of aborting our baby. It greatly disturbed me. Losing our son was extremely painful for me. And ever since that time, I’ve wanted more than anything else to hear—to know—that Patrice, too, regretted Trent’s death—not just me.
“Rita—Mrs. Helgessen—didn’t share everything with you about her last conversation with Patrice. At my request, she left out one detail that she has graciously allowed me to share this morning.” He looked over at Rita with a smile of gratitude, and, with calm assurance, took another deep breath, and went on. “I have learned in the last few days that Patrice first encountered Austin Mackey while he was a tiny patient for a few days at Cross Roads Hospital. Patrice saw him there and recognized that Austin was born the same month as our Trent would have been. She was curious enough to track down where he lived just so she could see this little boy grow and develop. Patrice chose a route for Rita’s and her Sunday afternoon walks that took them past Austin’s house, eventually enabling her to catch a weekly glimpse of this little boy, and to develop a friendship with him and his parents. She actually got to hold Austin several times.” He took a moment to once again sweepingly glance the entire audience. “I believe this child…” His voice broke, mid-sentence. “…is responsible for an amazing change of heart in Patrice towards our own baby, Trent.”
Marc looked at Bob and June Mackey, whom he had of course now met, seated in the front row. “I don’t think I could have been so courageous, so self-sacrificing or so quick-acting as Patrice was last Sunday. I join the Mackeys, Austin’s parents, in thanking her for saving their little boy’s life. I am also grateful to little Austin for totally changing Patrice’s heart.”
Marc had no idea how deeply these words of appreciation were received not only into Bob’s and June’s hearts, but into the hearts of certain other people in attendance—John and Lou Ferguson, Bonnie and Susie Chadwell, Nick’s parents the Brommers, and especially Nick himself. Of course, it was Midge who was most overwhelmed with thankfulness for God’s goodness in preserving the life of her child as well as using him in the life of Patrice Hamlin.
“Patrice’s life changed drastically last Sunday—right before the accident.” He smiled, more comfortable now, as he looked down at his notes and leaned on the podium, silent for a long moment before continuing. “My life has changed drastically as well. Rita and Nancy both spoke of Patrice as a new sister in the deepest sense of the word. Patrice was never my ‘legal’ wife—she didn’t want it that way, and, frankly, marriage God’s way didn’t mean much to me either, at the time. But, through the help of some very good friends, I myself have come into the family of God, just as Patrice did less than an hour before she died. That makes her my sister, too, as well as the mother of my child.” A confident smile was on his face.
“What I want to share with all of you here today is that it’s very gratifying to me to know that Patrice wanted to be around Austin as if he were a surrogate son, watching him grow and develop as her own little boy would have. Rita shared with me that just before she died, Patrice whispered…” Marc’s voice suddenly became almost inaudible, but the words were still carried through the microphone, “‘Jesus… Trent.’ It’s incredibly comforting to me.” He shook his head slowly, the tears in his eyes giving emphasis to the emotion he felt. “Incredibly.”
Now Marc looked right at Rita, sitting on the front row. “But Rita, Patrice also said two more words, didn’t she—as hard as it was for her to speak at all?” Rita nodded her head decisively, biting her lips to keep from crying as she did so, and Marc explained. “She said, ‘Marc… Sorry.’” At this point, Marc dropped his head, stifling his sobs. His voice was hard to understand as he finished. “Before God and every person here, I say, ‘Patrice, I forgive you. I love you. Thank you, thank you for loving our son Trent.’”
Jim Helgessen stood up and came to the podium. He gave Marc a compassionate hug with no concern for time or audience, and then Marc sat down again. The pastor spoke. “I am sure you have all been moved, as have I, by what you heard today. Thank you for coming. You are invited to a reception in Patrice’s honor in the Fellowship Hall downstairs. Would you bow your heads with me now?”
“Our Father in Heaven,” he prayed, “You are always good, whether our day is enveloped in clouds or we bask in the sun. Heaven, which you have prepared for us, forever basks in the radiance of Your Son. Thank you for the indescribable gift that Patrice received from You last Sunday, just in time.
“Bless these people who have come to honor Patrice and have been touched by the selfless love she showed for a precious child. Everyone here knows that the sacrifice of her own life saved the life of little Austin Mackey.
“And Your Son’s death—the sacrifice ordained by You and willingly suffered by Him out of love for us, has saved Patrice’s life—eternally. We bless the name of Jesus Christ—perfect, holy, loving Lamb of God.”
……….
“No memorial?” Lennox asked Chemosh as they headed downstairs.
“I’m not sure. Let’s ask my friend Joe. Marc is surrounded.”
The two men worked their way through the crowd to Joe Denspot. Joe informed them that Marc had wanted to have the memorial gifts go to the Wall of Remembrance but didn’t want Patrice’s death to generate division.
“Marc told me that if anyone is sincere about giving a memorial, they can talk with him. He’s arranged for Patrice’s memorial stone to have Trent’s name on it. He said he knows she would have wanted that,” Denspot added.
“Hmm,” Lennox responded.
“I don’t think I’ve met you.” Joe addressed Lennox. “I’m Joe Denspot.”
“Hal Lennox. I’m—was—Patrice’s employer.”
“Ah, yes. I believe I did hear that she worked for you.” His smile was perfunctory but not unkind. “Well, I say if you want to honor Patrice, you’re in a hard spot, having to choose between a ‘before and after’ woman.” Joe spoke with complete graciousness, despite the enigmatic expression on his face. He added, “All I know is that in the end, she herself was very…selfless.” Smiling sincerely, he excused himself.
“Well, let’s get some food,” Gene said.
“It looks like quite a spread. Who paid for all this?”
Gene smiled. “I can’t answer that. It’s an anonymous gift from several people.”
“Pretty impressive.”
“Will you miss her?” Gene asked.
“Definitely,” Lennox responded.
“Did you recognize any change in her during the last few months?”
“I did, actually.”
“You did?”
“Yes, but it didn’t affect her work. She was always hardworking and rather reserved. Before she came back to work for me again, when I interviewed her, she never mentioned the—the abortion, but she told me of her break-up with Marc. It was a very difficult time for her. In fact, for a few weeks there, I actually wasn’t sure she would get through it. I guess her mother was an alcoholic, and she seemed headed that way. Then all of a sudden, she got back on her feet and seemed just fine again.” Lennox sighed. “Life can be pretty strange. I mean, you, for example. I can’t believe you’re a friend of Marc Garman when you were the one who…performed the abortion.”
Chemosh nodded, a compassionate sadness in his manner, as he said, “Yeah. Marc has forgiven me, and he’s forgiven Patrice. It’s amazing, isn’t it? You know, I told my wife one day…” He paused. “Well, let me first explain that I now believe in God, Lennox, and I know I’m forgiven through the blood of Jesus Christ.” Chemosh was not surprised at the askant reaction on the other man’s face.
He shook his head slowly, as if trying to understand the incredible. “That’s the only way it’s possible, Lennox. Anyway, I was saying that I told Sally one day that God’s chief qualities are hope and love. But I’m convinced there’s one more right there at the top. It’s forgiveness.” Chemosh bent close to Lennox as they sat there with their plates in their hands. “I guess they all blend together. I love God, Lennox.” He repeated the words very slowly again, deliberately nodding his head with each word, “I love God.”
Acknowledging Lennox’s amazed, uncomfortable expression, he half-smiled and shrugged. “You can think what you want, but it’s true, and that’s why I said it.” His smile broadened. “I’ll say it again. I love God.”