Rounding out our month focused on hope: a profile about a seemingly average woman.

She was a faithful wife of many years, a loving mother of two sons, a conscientious worker in her common places of employment, and a devoted church member. She lived her whole life in or near small Kansas towns. And she led a fruitful but humble life that would never earn her wide fame.

Yet, I loved her. I looked forward to any gathering where I would see her, because to see her smile was to see sunshine kiss a face. And hearing her voice was like hearing honey slip over rose petals. It was sweet in its sound, melodic and lilting. But it was even sweeter in the words it carried, filled with hope of what was then good or what would one day be redeemed.

Even the very last time I saw her, before she flew away some years ago, her hope had not dimmed. Though she had lost most or all of her sight to macular degeneration, so that she had to see me with her hands while we talked, and she was leading a very restricted life physically, her mind and hearing were still sharp.

And her voice was still sweet. Still so full of hope. She was wasting away but still being renewed day by day. And the light that glowed from her face and echoed in her voice left me feeling completely at peace.

This was my mother’s aunt, Elizabeth Beeler Trimble.

And I know with joy that one day I will hear her sweet voice again.

I only hope that when my body eventually shuts down to finally run no more, I will still possess all of the hope and even a fraction of the grace that she did…to the very end.