Hallelujah

by Art Pinzur

She tumbled off the bus one day in June of 1978 with two bleary-eyed, blonde-headed girls and a quasi-mesmerized two-year-old at the bus station in Worcester, Massachusetts. They'd made the long trek from Little Rock, Arkansas to participate in the happiest day of my life – the day of my wedding. Vivacious, gregarious, warm – in spite of that wearisome journey – I could tell from the start I was going to like my new "big sister". It was said of my father that "the room lit up when he walked in" – and so may it be said of Kathi.

We had differences, to be sure, but she was a big enough person not to let them hinder the beauty, the treasure of relationship. I felt that I could always talk to Kathi and always enjoyed doing so. The commandment to "love my neighbor as myself" took on new meaning for me as I grew to know and love her more over these past 22 years. Her faith – her life - were highlighted by a vitality, a spontaneity, like the faith and life of a child - the kind of faith without which, Jesus said, no one can enter the kingdom of heaven.

Kathi also challenged me to grow as a person. Not three weeks ago she breathed a ray of hope into this academically-dusty old mind of mine with the thought of going back to graduate school in the future even as she was preparing to do. But Kathi's hopes and dreams were not limited to this passing world and all-too-fleeting (and fragile) mortal life. On Saturday the 23rd of December as she was leaving Mom & Dad Hine's to return to Greensboro, she pulled out of the driveway blasting Handel's Hallelujah chorus on the audio, singing, conducting and (help!) driving all at the same time. (Fortunately I was on the sidewalk.) When I chuckled she promptly lowered her window and exclaimed, "Don't you think they'll be singing this in heaven?!" I rejoice to think that in the providence of God Kathi's last words to me on earth were words about heaven. And I look forward to singing "Hallelujah" there with her in the presence of the King!