Silent Witness

"Do you know who that woman was?" I asked. "No, we thought you did," was the reply. Someone suggested that I look at the bottom of the dish of food she had just left. But no name was there. How will I return her dish? I wondered. This was the least of my worries. Our sixteen-year-old son, Todd, had been killed in a car accident only a few days before. My neighbors had come over to help when this stranger had knocked on the door with food in hand. Who was she? What would make a stranger come and leave food, I thought. Since I didn't know who she was, I would have to wait for her to come back and claim it. But now I thought, what will I say to her? I must know her but from where? 

Weeks went by. And then she once again appeared at my door. This time, to pick up her dish. Through our conversation, I learned that her son, Benjy, had run cross-country with Todd. This was so kind of her, I thought. I certainly would not have done the same. Yes, I would have taken food to someone I knew personally, but not to someone I didn't know. When I thought about it, I'd been noticing many behaviors I didn't really understand. What makes these people tick? was a nagging question going around in my mind. I was not a Christian. I knew I was searching for something, but "religion" was not it. Every Sunday morning, I would see my neighbors driving down the road. Probably going to church, I thought. That's nice, but not for me. I don't need "religion" in my life. But now I could see it was these same neighbors who were helping me through my crisis. 

In my search for meaning in my life, I had gone to the public library looking for answers. There, I discovered Norman Vincent Peale. I thought he was a psychologist but soon learned he was a Christian minister. In The Power of Positive Thinking and his other books, Dr. Peale told stories about people who had found what I wanted. They were able to move beyond themselves. They had the power to overcome situations in life that were overwhelming. Up to that time, I hadn't come up against anything I couldn't handle. Being strong-willed, I always managed to muster up enough strength to move on. I couldn't even remember the last time I had cried. 

Now, everything had changed. My son, Todd, was dead. How could I ever live my life without him? I was doing my best to move on. I was trying to think positively, easy to do before Todd died, but not now. Even a simple trip to the grocery store almost destroyed me when, out of habit, I automatically reached for Todd's favorite cereal. As I touched the box, the reality of his death set in. Overwhelmed with grief, I ran from the store before anyone could see the tears. I wanted to die. I knew I could not go on like this. We had two other children: Shannon was twelve, and Brandon was almost three. In his books and tapes, Dr. Peale would say, "Do you want this overcoming life? It will cost you. All of you!" I hated those words. I didn't like the sound of "Cost you. All of you!" business. 

But today, I thought, what do I have to lose? I've tried everything else. I dropped to my knees and told the Lord I was giving up. I wanted this "overcoming life" Dr. Peale talked about, but I couldn't do it independently. I needed His help. If He could use me to make something positive out of Todd's death, I was available. A flood of love and peace seemed to fill me at that instant. I stood up, and somehow, I knew I was going to start living this "overcoming life." 

Many things began to happen. For one, we started going to church. One week, I noticed a woman who walked into our Sunday School class, where we were discussing the subject of witnessing. I thought I recognized her but couldn't remember from where. Then it dawned on me. This was Sandy, the woman who had brought food when Todd died. As each of us expressed views of what witnessing was, Sandy spoke up. "I don't do witnessing." She expressed an inability to talk openly to strangers about her faith. I could not keep quiet. Tears filled my eyes. You could have heard a pin drop when I said, "Oh, yes, you do! You witnessed to me." Sandy had been a silent witness, as were my neighbors, who quietly witnessed to me each week as I watched them drive off to church. 

I've learned many things through the years since Todd's death. One of which is that sometimes we are the only Bible some people will ever read. The way we live our lives can be the best witness of God's love for someone in need. There's something else. I was right in that I was not looking for "religion." What I was looking for was a personal relationship with God. And through this relationship, I've found the "overcoming life." Now I can witness God's love to others as others witnessed, through their actions, to me.

Kay Heitsch The following story was published in Positive Thinking Finding Joy & Fulfillment Every Day October 2002