She was home for Christmas.

My Christmas Eve was rather unorthodox this year.

As a pastor's kid, I've traveled to the hospital with my dad on many occasions. Sometimes, it was after routine procedures or minor scares that turned into nothing. On other days, I joined him as we said goodbye to a life. Christmas eve was one such day.

Spartanburg 1st Church of the Nazarene, my father's church, plays a large part in their marginalized community by inviting residents of local residence homes for adults who are unable to live completely on their own. These folks are unable to offer much in the way of financial support or leadership, but they offer something much greater - a chance to love without ever expecting anything in return. One such lady was named Brenda.

So many of us complain about the most trivial things. "My phone doesn't work fast enough." "I wish my 2,000 square foot house had 8,000 square feet." "I don't understand why I can't look like a model." Brenda had no traditional legacy to her name, no beach body to claim, no career to speak of; and yet, she loved unashamedly. She was always a sweet, kind soul, ready to offer a hug and a smile to anyone willing to receive.

The above photo is from a Christmas party held at my parents house in 2012. Brenda and the other residents came over to share in some desserts and fellowship. One of them said they'd never been invited to a party before - something that for most of us seems commonplace. 

In 2013, Brenda suffered a massive heart attack the Friday before Christmas. Her family could not be reached to be called in when she would be taken off the life support keeping her body alive - the only communication anyone had recently received was the week before her heart attack, when her son called to say he would be traveling to town to buy her the pair of boots she had wanted for so long. But no one could find him or any of her other children to tell them what had happened.

This brings us to Christmas Eve. The doctors had chosen to remove her life support that day, so she wouldn't have to suffer during Christmas. She had been pronounced brain-dead and would not regain consciousness again.

My family (father, mother, and brother) and I drove to the hospital before lunch. There, we met Travis and Melody, a married couple who have played a large part in the outreach to homes like Brenda's. A few other church members who cared very much for her were regrettably absent due to work schedules.

Right before we walked into the hospital room, my dad looked at me to ask if I would be able to sing something as she took her last breaths. Everyone else had already started to cry, so I was the only one left who would be able to start a song. The nurses turned off all the machines and displays and left us in the room to say goodbye. So we sang It Is Well With My Soul.

We joined together in song, tearfully, sniffling, and a little out of tune. Brenda coded as soon as support was removed, and went peacefully into eternity. My mother commented later that rather than tears, our response could consist of rejoicing - Brenda was the only one of us in that room who would spend Christmas with Jesus. While our song wouldn't earn us a grammy, and the 'performance' was anything but perfect, it was a flawless way to say our farewells to a woman who would remain forever in our hearts.

My life has always been far more blessed by those people who were willing to love without expectations. Brenda became our family, not because she wanted us to give her things, and not because we thought there was ever anything tangible she could provide for us, but because we are all children of God, seeking one purpose - to know Jesus more. She had a beautiful soul, and will be missed by those who knew her.

Merry Christmas, Brenda. You gave me a more amazing gift than all the ones wrapped beneath our tree, and I will never forget.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!