The headlines we read on news channels and social media aren’t exactly encouraging or inspiring; in fact, they can be downright depressing.
But I am reminded of something Mr. Rogers is famous for saying: “When I was a boy, and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'”
And being reminded of Mr. Rogers’ quote reminded me of something I wrote in 2018. I want to re-post it for everyone who has ever been a helper or been helped by a helper.
The funeral was nearing the end when I noticed four women get up from their pews and disappear through the side door of the sanctuary.
To the uninitiated, it may have seemed like they had all heard the call of nature at precisely the same time; however, as a veteran church-goer, I knew the real scoop.
I knew that these four were The Funeral Ladies. These were the ladies who had inventoried the third shelf of the storage room to make sure there were enough plastic forks. They had brewed the sweet tea, bought the sheet cake from Wal-Mart, and organized the bounty so the deviled eggs wouldn’t be inexplicably hanging out with the chocolate meringue pie at the end of the 6-foot folding table.
When the funeral-goers entered the fellowship hall fifteen minutes later, they never gave a second thought as to how the generous spread of southern cooking had gotten there. But I knew exactly how many details and how much work had been attended to by those four Unsung women.
Because I have been one of The Unsung. Being in full-time ministry most of my adult life (and being raised in a ministry family) presents one with plenty of opportunities to do the unsung stuff.
The funny thing is that when you are the one who usually does those things, it can be disconcerting to find yourself on the receiving end of the process.
Last year, Meagan’s beloved grandpa died, and Steve and I drove across the state to attend the funeral. When the service was over, we all filed into the fellowship hall where we were greeted by long tables piled with food. And this was not just any ol’ food, mind you. This was Funeral Food, which in the South is a category unto itself. There was compassion in those collards, and there was love in that pecan pie. Every funeral cook worth her salt knows just how vital those extra ingredients are.
Steve and I sat with Meagan and her family during the meal, and as we chatted, I kept an eye on the church’s Unsung. They made sure that the serving utensils were out, the pitchers were full, the cups had been topped off with ice, and Aunt Mabel’s famous coconut pie had been cut. (Because a line was already forming in front of it.)
And when the meal was over, I noticed with a smile that Meagan and her whole family were getting just a little twitchy. And why is that?
It’s because they (as well as Steve and I) are all hardwired to leap into action at the end of every church event and start cleaning up.
Tote that trash! Wipe that table! Wash that pot!
But thankfully, all of us (heroically) managed to keep ourselves in our chairs. We sat still, and we basked in the privilege of being on the receiving end of the ministrations of The Unsung. We were privileged to receive their acts of service and love, and we were reminded just how much those acts mean to those recently bereaved, or to those recently blessed by a wedding, a new baby, or some other milestone in life.
I remember when Sarah graduated from High School in 2014. I had somehow managed to get way, way behind in preparation for her graduation party which was to follow the morning’s graduation ceremony. The ceremony had taken longer than anticipated, and Steve and I got to the church’s Activity Building almost an hour later than we’d planned. Although we had done a lot of the work the day before, there was still plenty to be taken care of.
We had been working frantically for about thirty minutes when, to my great consternation, three early-bird guests arrived.
My Level 6 panic was just in the process of shooting itself straight up to Level 10 when I noticed something that almost made me cry. I saw that my early birds (all faithful members of our church) just happened to be card-carrying members of The Unsung. Although they had arrived as guests, they didn’t stay in that role for long.
All it took was one glance at all the undone things in the kitchen and another glance at my frantic and frazzled face. Without a word, they moved into action. They needed no list and no instructions because they had done it a million times before:
The Unsung getting done the undone.
Because of their generous and heart-propelled efficiency, every last decoration was in place, and every last platter of food was on the table when the first guest walked in the door to help us celebrate our beloved girl.
The Unsung can be spotted everywhere.
Our church has a faith-based Boys’ Club that meets every Wednesday night. The leaders of the Club are a police officer, a Ford mechanic, and a repair department manager. These men work grueling house, and when their workday is done, their instinct would be to go home and prop their feet up. But instead, they turn their vehicles toward the church. They climb the steps to the room where they will become a part of helping turn small boys into grown men.
The Girls’ Club meets right down the hall from them. Their leader works a stressful job and is exhausted at day’s end. In fact, she mentioned that she never goes home after work on Wednesdays because she would sit down and fall asleep. Instead, she grabs something to eat and heads straight to her room at church, where young girls look to her and the other leaders for spiritual foundations and the tools they will need to get through life.
This woman has been teaching this class for over twenty years. Upstairs and unseen. One of The Unsung.
In our church, we have people who quietly show up to do the laundry for a mom who just had surgery. We have people who deliver meals to the sick.
We have a retired nurse who goes to the homes of the dying and stays there to ease the transition and to comfort those left behind. I have been in the room with her twice when someone passed from this life, and she has been such a compassionate, reassuring presence.
There is a man at our church who always stays late to make sure the lights are turned off, the air conditioning is adjusted, and the doors are locked. I especially appreciate him because if he didn’t do this, then Steve would be the one who had to stay late every single time.
There is another man who organizes our ministry to the homeless, and there are Sunday school teachers who study every week and show up every Sunday to pass on what they have learned. We have a group of women who staff the nursery on Sundays and love the babies and the toddlers who will grow up to attend the Boys and Girls’ Clubs and then graduate to youth group and then someday . . . who knows?
If all goes well, some of them will take their place in the lineup of The Unsung. When the people who are currently doing those things have passed on, these younger ones will walk into a church kitchen one day, see some stressed-out pastor’s wife, and without a word, lend their hearts and hands to getting the tasks done.
Some of those newly grown-up folks will work a long day, and then they will head to the Wednesday night classroom to teach and guide the young ones coming up. They will organize the food at funerals, they will clear the plates, and they will take out the trash.
Without even being aware of it, they will have become another link in the chain of people who live their lives for others.
The people who are so often only seen by heaven’s eyes–the Unsung.
What about you?
Are you one of those people who enjoys serving behind the scenes? What is your favorite part about it?
Have your life ever been touched by one of The Unsung?
When I first posted this eight years ago, there were so many inspiring stories in the comment section. I would love to hear more stories.
