tinker

Yesterday, I went to  the largest funeral I’ve ever had the privilege to attend.  Crowd estimates are just under 1000 people.  Yes, really, 1000 people. 

Who has a funeral with that many people in attendance?  Royalty, celebrity, heads of state?  I would say that judging by the people who loved her, Angie Tinker was all of those things to us.  Yet she was a humble grandmother in Middle Georgia who taught special needs children, directed a crisis pregnancy center and lived to play praise and worship music. 

When you picture Angie, it’s hard to separate her from her keyboard, the one that her diminuitive frame barely peeked out over.  Angie would be there behind the keyboard, playing for all she was worth, singing and lifting the name of Jesus literally any opportunity she had.  It was fitting that her funeral reflected this love.  The life of Praise left its mark on Angie.

When you picture Angie, it’s hard not to remember that elfin  twinkle in her eyes and that little smile she always had ready.  You couldn’t help but smile back, and if you didn’t, see would be quick to find out why.   Angie loved people and she easily conveyed her genuine concern for you if she sensed anything wrong.  If Angie knew you, she cared about you.  It was just that simple for her.  The life of Selflessness left its mark on Angie.

When you picture Angie, it’s especially hard not to see the family that she loved.  Where you saw Angie, you saw John, her husband of thirty-three years.  And, whenever possible, her children and grandchildren.  The quiet strength that she passed on to her family was evident in the way they handled their grief and in how they dealt with others during this tragedy.  The life lived in love of her family left its mark on Angie.  But, it especially left its mark on her children. 

When you picture Angie, it’s the most hard to picture her as gone.  I’m glad that those of us in attendance yesterday share the hope of seeing her again.  As much as it pains us now, none of us would wish her back from that experience of heavenly praise and worship.  Well, maybe if we’re truthful, just for a minute….

For all my friends who knew Angie, here’s an opportunity to share your favorite memory.  I will pass these on to John when he is out of ICU and share them with her children. 

Or maybe, like me, you also want to reflect on what has left its mark on your life and what mark you are leaving on others.