The Red Flannel Rag

About two years ago, a Mennonite preacher had visited her in the hospital during

a crisis. He stayed in the room with her for about fifteen minutes. When he walked out,

he looked at Brenda and me and said, “That’s the hardest woman I have ever tried to

talk to.” Fortunately for him he was striding down the hospital hall as he made the

remark. We were both shocked and appalled.

When we went back in the room with Mom, I asked her what had happened.

She said, “He wanted me to renew my membership in the church and accept Jesus

Christ as my savior. I didn’t like his attitude. I am not ready to die yet . I told him to

leave and not come back.” I forgave the preacher a little after that remark, but still think

his comment was unnecessary.

Hilda stayed by Mom’s side and caressed her cheeks and forehead, telling her to

relax. Suddenly, Hilda looked at me and said, “Mary Kirkpatrick’s picture fell off the

wall in the dining room this morning at 4:00 a.m.” I had no doubt then that Mom was

leaving us on her birthday. My mind went back to a discussion she had with me within

the last year. She told me about the Vienna sausages that she and Beatrice Crawford

had stolen from Mary Kirkpatrick’s store many years before. Mom was concerned at the

time that stealing those sausages might keep her out of heaven.

I wondered if Mary was sending a message of forgiveness to Mom when her

picture fell off the wall. The picture had been hanging in the same place since 1961.

Why did it fall on this day? I walked into the dining room. Hilda had picked the picture

off the floor. It was lying on the table. I picked it up and looked at the back.

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