Bob and Becky are very faithful at Anchor, and truly nice people. Quiet, unassuming, gracious people, somewhere in their late 50s I’m guessing. I like them a lot. They always sit on the end of a row, and their faithfulness blesses me as I stand up front at the keyboard each Sunday. I don’t know how long they’ve been coming to Anchor–maybe a couple years. They live on the next street over. I greatly value them as part of Anchor, though I don’t know them well.

A couple weeks ago it was announced during the service that Becky’s brother had died that week. It evidently didn’t register with people, because a couple weeks later I learned that Becky received a sympathy card from just one person in the church. And it wasn’t us.

I felt terrible about that. So did others. People moved into action–belatedly, but out of real concern for Becky’s grief. The loss of a brother is a big deal. Somehow, Becky’s loss got lost in our midst, and that just shouldn’t happen. Certainly not in a church of our size. We pride ourselves on being a warm, friendly church. What happened with Becky isn’t typical of Anchor–at least, I hope it isn’t. But it happened, and it shouldn’t have.

I thought of my brothers, and what it would mean to lose one of them. We’re all close. It would devastate me.

With that in mind, this Sunday before church I sat down with Becky and asked questions about her brother–where he lived, were they close, younger or older, etc. She opened up, and I think she appreciated my interest, which was genuine. And I thoroughly enjoyed talking to her. This is a woman I want to get to know a lot better, because in her gentle quietness, I sensed a real strength and character.

I’ve got to pay closer attention to what’s happening in people’s lives. All of us do. It’s part of being a community.