A Salt of the Earth Christian
Illustration
Stories
You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything but is thrown out and trampled underfoot. (v. 13)
Ruth Anderson, a long-time leader of Willow Valley United Methodist Church in Ithaca, Wisconsin, was struck and killed by a car while crossing the road to the mailbox in front of their farm home. The driver was arrested on a tentative charge of homicide by negligent operation of a vehicle.
If you Google what it means to be a Christian, I imagine you might find a picture of Ruth Anderson next to those of Mother Teresa, Florence Nightingale, and a host of other servant saints in glory. Ruth of Willow Valley (my home church) was a force of nature, all love. Although those closest to her might report occasional lapses, most of us just remember her constant smile, genial personality and never-ending acts of kindness.
I have known women and men like Ruth in every congregation I have served: saints who embodied the gospel in a way that was transfiguring for all around them. They are the heart and soul of our churches, salt of the earth folks who are models for the rest of us, the first responders of Christendom. The Roman Catholic writer Alexander Schmemann put it this way; they are those who always “have their faces turned toward the other person…”
Ruth is the daughter of Philip and Margaret Winslow, from whom she inherited a full measure of kindness and wisdom. Philip got me started in a business venture when I was student in the early 70s. But, despite his patient mentoring, it was apparent after only a few months that I was an abject failure as an entrepreneur. Philip helped me pay off my debt and, with a hand on my shoulder, let me know that I was still a success as a human being. I have never forgotten his kindness.
Ruth was the apple who didn’t fall far from the proverbial tree. She had that Winslow quality of natural goodness, combined with boundless energy, one of those renaissance farm women who could do it all: milk a cow, wrangle a calf, drive the tractor that pulled the bailer, and cook dinner for the haying crew. In the evening there were committee meetings at the church or cheering at high school ball games and wrestling matches.
Ruth Anderson, RN was quintessentially a caregiver: a nurse by profession for 47 years, a steady healing presence on the rescue squad and in the maternity ward. She helped in the birthing of hundreds of babies at the Richland Hospital. Kind was the word people used most often in describing Ruth as they talked about her in the long line at the visitation at the funeral home.
Ruth’s nephew tells about her famous banana bread. Every visitor to Willow Valley Church received a warm loaf. Ruth’s nephew said, “This banana bread was the point of debate between our daughters when they would return as visitors, “I should qualify as a visitor and get banana bread from Aunt Ruth now, right?!” was a common question when they would be headed to church?” A neighbor said, “That bread was looked forward to by so many. It was kind of a joke that even members who hadn’t come to church for a while would get some!”
During the four long years when I was too sick to go to church, Ruth brought the church to me as she did for so many. There were letters, phone calls, and visits - and always a little gift: a newspaper clipping, a book, flowers from her garden or something to eat. When I was finally well enough to return to worship, Ruth was in her usual place at the greeting station and gave me one of her penetrating smiles and a big hug. After the service she slipped a warm loaf of banana bread into my hands. From now on I will think of Ruth and smile every time I smell the heavenly aroma of banana bread.
And I will pray for the driver of the car who hit Ruth. I think Ruth would be the first person to forgive. I can still hear her sweet, raspy voice saying, “Love, Love, Love!”
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StoryShare, February 5, 2023 issue.
Copyright 2023 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
Ruth Anderson, a long-time leader of Willow Valley United Methodist Church in Ithaca, Wisconsin, was struck and killed by a car while crossing the road to the mailbox in front of their farm home. The driver was arrested on a tentative charge of homicide by negligent operation of a vehicle.
If you Google what it means to be a Christian, I imagine you might find a picture of Ruth Anderson next to those of Mother Teresa, Florence Nightingale, and a host of other servant saints in glory. Ruth of Willow Valley (my home church) was a force of nature, all love. Although those closest to her might report occasional lapses, most of us just remember her constant smile, genial personality and never-ending acts of kindness.
I have known women and men like Ruth in every congregation I have served: saints who embodied the gospel in a way that was transfiguring for all around them. They are the heart and soul of our churches, salt of the earth folks who are models for the rest of us, the first responders of Christendom. The Roman Catholic writer Alexander Schmemann put it this way; they are those who always “have their faces turned toward the other person…”
Ruth is the daughter of Philip and Margaret Winslow, from whom she inherited a full measure of kindness and wisdom. Philip got me started in a business venture when I was student in the early 70s. But, despite his patient mentoring, it was apparent after only a few months that I was an abject failure as an entrepreneur. Philip helped me pay off my debt and, with a hand on my shoulder, let me know that I was still a success as a human being. I have never forgotten his kindness.
Ruth was the apple who didn’t fall far from the proverbial tree. She had that Winslow quality of natural goodness, combined with boundless energy, one of those renaissance farm women who could do it all: milk a cow, wrangle a calf, drive the tractor that pulled the bailer, and cook dinner for the haying crew. In the evening there were committee meetings at the church or cheering at high school ball games and wrestling matches.
Ruth Anderson, RN was quintessentially a caregiver: a nurse by profession for 47 years, a steady healing presence on the rescue squad and in the maternity ward. She helped in the birthing of hundreds of babies at the Richland Hospital. Kind was the word people used most often in describing Ruth as they talked about her in the long line at the visitation at the funeral home.
Ruth’s nephew tells about her famous banana bread. Every visitor to Willow Valley Church received a warm loaf. Ruth’s nephew said, “This banana bread was the point of debate between our daughters when they would return as visitors, “I should qualify as a visitor and get banana bread from Aunt Ruth now, right?!” was a common question when they would be headed to church?” A neighbor said, “That bread was looked forward to by so many. It was kind of a joke that even members who hadn’t come to church for a while would get some!”
During the four long years when I was too sick to go to church, Ruth brought the church to me as she did for so many. There were letters, phone calls, and visits - and always a little gift: a newspaper clipping, a book, flowers from her garden or something to eat. When I was finally well enough to return to worship, Ruth was in her usual place at the greeting station and gave me one of her penetrating smiles and a big hug. After the service she slipped a warm loaf of banana bread into my hands. From now on I will think of Ruth and smile every time I smell the heavenly aroma of banana bread.
And I will pray for the driver of the car who hit Ruth. I think Ruth would be the first person to forgive. I can still hear her sweet, raspy voice saying, “Love, Love, Love!”
*****************************************
StoryShare, February 5, 2023 issue.
Copyright 2023 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
