Life is fragile. I heard these words today at my sister, Sharon’s memorial service.

Saturday was to be a normal day if I can call any day normal. But then the phone call came. My sister, Sharon, who was recovering from surgery, had complications. Another surgery was scheduled and done. Then life was gone. And life began.

Sharon was the youngest of my twin sisters. She had grieved much 15 years earlier when her twin sister, Karen, died. Our family says that Karen was healed after 10 years of lupus. Nevertheless, the grief was great for all of us.

Sharon was a gifted musician. She could play anything on the organ and piano. It seemed unfair to us the gift she had. She used it well—played for funerals, weddings, and every Sunday morning for a 7:45 worship service at her church. Sharon loved to play games—competitively. The card game, Hand and foot was her latest thrill.

The loss of another sister so quickly has caused great grief in my life. I have found myself hearing a song and weeping. I have found myself laughing at the memory of Sharon’s love of life.

When my twin sisters were young, mom would make them go out to the weeping willow tree in the yard to cut their own switch. It was a time when parents would swat their young ones for misbehaving. To cut your own switch was an extension of the fear. Time passed and the twins did not return with their switch. Mom finally looked out to watch the girls. Karen, the eldest, was cutting different limbs of the willow and using them on Sharon’s legs. They were trying to figure out which one would hurt the least.

That was Sharon—a gifted servant to her family, friends, and even strangers. A few weeks prior to her surgery, she took time to plan and play for a friend of a friend’s funeral.

I will miss her. I will miss her music. I will grieve which is okay. But when the music plays, I will know that she and her twin, Karen, are celebrating in the kingdom of God. My sorrow will be transformed by the power of the living God to a song of joy!

I found Sharon’s Bible. As I skimmed through the pages noting the verses she had underlined, I found many keepsakes from her journey. One of them gave us all good advice: Face the worst. Believe the Best. Do the most you can. Leave the rest to God.

I think those are words of wisdom for me in my loss.

Pray for me as I pray for you.

In the Master’s Name,


Rev. M. Jack O’Dell